Happy Hallowe'en! Belated Hallowe'en, I mean. This is a bit short, but sweet. If you find this sort of thing sweet, that is.

- nH

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Chapter 17

The Sounds of Disaster

In the seconds that passed between her door unlocking and someone stepping inside, Jane nearly forgot that there was something fairly large going on. Such was the extent of her brain damage, she sadly assumed. The heavy steel creaked open, and a small dark shape poked in. Jane stood aghast for a moment, unable to relate the foggy image to reality.

"Jane?" Angie said, tentatively.

There; it made a little more sense now. Angie had said she'd come for her, and here she was. The doorway around her still twitched and jumped, but happily, Angie's face remained clear.

"H-hey", Jane answered. She didn't move from her spot, despite her relief to see the girl. Angie entered the room cautiously, realizing now the extremity of the trauma Jane had suffered.

"Hi, there", she said soothingly. "Let's get you out of that thing." She gestured to the straightjacket.

Jane nodded her assent, hesitantly turning to allow Angie access to the straps at the back. She waited with a sort of patience while Angie fiddled around behind her; after a few minutes of tugging and unraveling, Jane felt her bonds loosen. Her rough canvas shell fell away, leaving the blood to flow back into her arms and fingers. Angie carefully placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hon, I think we should get out of here while we can. I don't know if we can get upstairs at all, but I don't think the bottom of the building is the safest place to be right now."

Jane pondered for a moment. "We can leave", she said, a tad breathless. Breathing had become more difficult of late, since she'd been dosed by Crane's white powder. She always felt like she was hyperventilating, the fight-or-flight response to such constant fear. "We can just leave here."

"Leave…the building?" Angie asked. She clearly hadn't thought of this. Jane watched her, wondering what the big question regarding escape could be. Wasn't this what they'd both wished for since they'd arrived? Perhaps Angie's infatuation with Crane was leading her astray. "I don't know if that's such a good idea…"

"Why not?" Jane fairly spat.

"Okay, relax. I just meant that it might not be safe outside, either. We're in the Narrows, you know. Bad things happen here all the time, and if things are as haywire as they seem, it's like the end of the world out there or something…"

Jane shook her head adamantly. "No, it's the end of the world in here. Outside is home, outside bad things happen, believe me I know but it's home and I don't belong here-"

"I know!" Angie assured her. "I know, you don't belong here, I don't belong here. Most the people around don't belong here. But if there's like a riot going on in this whole neighbourhood, it might be best to just lie low in a Max room or something, barricade ourselves in…"

Jane nodded slowly, not completely agreeing.

"Okay…maybe."

Angie nodded too, seeming a bit relieved. "Okay", she said. "We'll go and check it out together. Watch each other's backs, right?"

"Right…" it was a dubious answer at best. Some part of Jane did realize that it was likely that Angie would be doing most of the watching. Regardless, Angie seemed as pleased as one could get in such a situation.

"Alright, then. Let's go."

Together, the young girls ventured out past the thick door; there lay chaos. Well, quiet chaos. Many of the inmates on this lowest of the low level were docile, the zombie-esque creatures that shared group therapy with the girls. These milled about softly, wandering, touching the walls as if they may not be real. As well as these, there were a number of other patients now released from their cages. These were sharper in their movements, watchful and paranoid. Jane recognized their terrified reactions as her own, before her careful self control. Still, despite her new tightly restrained behavior, she did feel the difference. She was brittle, like thinly spun glass. She could easily become one of these frightened defensive children again; the fear lay just under the surface.

Fuel for their fear lay above them. At first Jane didn't hear it; Angie, having grown used to listening upward over her last many months here, suddenly ground to a halt. The arm around Jane's waist tightened, bringing them to a stop.

"Hear that?" she asked tensely.

Jane waited; she had heard things since that last fateful session, mainly vague sporadic voices she could luckily tell were in her head. In her new world, she'd tried to listen past these, with moderate success. They were like a particularly catchy song stuck on repeat. Pushing past them now, she listened, following Angie's gaze to the ceiling, where many of the others had fastened their attention. Soon, it became clear; overhead, the sounds of disaster.