Hello everyone. I just wanted to say thanks for reading my story, and for the positive reviews you've given so far. I try to update every day, but I haven't gotten around to saying hi yet, so here it is. And since the last chapter was a bit short, here's the next, in which the coiled serpent becomes evident. Hope you like! - nH
Chapter 5
Big Plans
Days passed, curiously without therapy. Jane learned to sleep early in the nights and awaken long before dawn; as they say, it is always darkest then. In the dark, she'd creep to the edges of her room, try to escape the feeling of electronic eyes on her skin. If she'd had a psychic sense, she'd honed it here, treading waters away from the burning sensation of being watched constantly. If her intuition was correct, the camera was set on an angle that excluded the very corner of the room, behind the door. It was focused on her bed, to watch her sleep. Maybe that was what gave her those mysterious tremors every night.
One such night, having fallen into sleep at about ten, she awoke to the absolute black that told her she'd again timed things correctly. She lay still for a moment, trying to make out the hands of the clock above the door. There was no seeing them; that meant it was around four. The asylum was silent. No one stirred, she'd bet even the night shift was resting. Good news for Jane; she crept out of her bed, along the floor like a shadow. Folding herself into her corner, she found true rest there, where the camera couldn't see her.
Here, she could think in privacy; catching herself in the middle of that thought, she wondered if she was becoming paranoid. No one could read her thoughts, could they? Not even Dr. Crane. Though if anyone could, it would be him. She'd seen him rarely the last week or so; he'd always seemed very busy, marching down the hallways or walking through the common room on a kind of patrol. He had things to do, perfectly sane people he had to have committed. On a few occasions, she even thought she'd caught him watching her; always out of the corner of his eye, of course, and he managed to turn away before she could meet his secret gaze. Maybe he has a crush! a girlishly insane part of her thought. It was a mad idea. A crush can be a prelude to love, and Crane loved no one. As far as Jane could tell.
The sudden slamming of a thick metal door down the hall jarred her, almost making her give her position away to the electronic villain in the ceiling. No one moved at this hour; what could that be?
Highly unnerved now, the feeling of an impending apocalypse shaking her, (irrationally, she knew), Jane gathered herself into a taught ball, not knowing what else to do. If the zombies bust in here, I'll just spring up and run past them!
God, she was going insane.
No zombies entered; the sound of one set of feet approached, with perfectly regulated steps clearly not indicative of the undead. This may not have been better news; perhaps her thoughts of Crane had summoned him from wherever he stayed. Although, she'd thought of little else these days and hadn't seen him near her room, so that was unlikely. To her horror, the sounds slowed and stopped far too close for comfort. Jane closed her eyes, and tried to disappear.
You know who it is. It's Dr. Crane, of course! Here to haunt you!
Or maybe it's worse…maybe it's something else…
A strange fear, somehow familiar, seized her. When had she felt this way before? Every fear had a different taste; fear of being late, fear of being hit by a bus. What danger past was this one from?
"Doctor?" a voice called outside, breaking the suspense. Another set of sounds came to join the doctor outside her door. She hoped they weren't on their way in.
"Ssh!" the doctor hissed. If ever Jane could identify a man with one syllable, it was Crane. He hissed like no other; how did she know that…? "Patients are trying to sleep. What is it?"
The two retreated a small distance down the hall, presumably to avoid waking those patients Crane was so concerned about. Jane moved just slightly, hoping to hear their private conversation. It was faint, but she could still make it out bits and pieces.
"Your patient. File number…235F." The voice of the other young man hushed accordingly. "When did you need her…medication switched?"
"Patient 235F…", Crane murmured, accompanied by what could have been the sound of rustling papers. "I'll need her…new prescription…tomorrow morning."
"That's what I thought", the young man said nervously. "Good thing…because look at this…"
Another rustling; Jane thought she detected Crane suck in a short breath. "Ah, I see", he said. "She'll be of age soon. It's enough time; not as much as I would have hoped, but enough…"
"So, you want to proceed as planned?"
A pause. "No", he answered finally. "I'll need these months to observe her progress. Skip stage two…move right to three."
"Is that safe?"
"Let me worry about that. Good of you to bring this to my attention…I'll handle the patient's safety."
"Yes, sir."
One set of footsteps disappeared down the hall. The other lingered for a moment, then moved softly back to Jane's door. Jane remembered that morning last week, when she'd lain awake in bed, listening to Dr. Crane scold Maggie out of her room. He'd known she was awake then; he probably knew it now, too. He was probably waiting for her to move, to give herself away. They both remained still as coiled serpents, each watching for the other to strike so they could either make their escape, or go in for their kill.
Jane, she imagined him whisper.
Finally, Crane walked away. Jane listened to him go, and prayed for her eighteenth year to come before her sanity left her.