Chapter 4 The Interview Our soul waits for the LORD; He is our help and our shield…
Warden Erik Holscomb stared at the images, his face growing red. "I thought I made it clear that I didn't want damaged merchandise."
"I had to make an exception in this case," Dale insisted, coming up to his side. "I have a hunch about this one—the bounty hunters sliced him up pretty good, but they'd tracked him for months. After three hours of interrogation he still didn't talk."
Holscomb half turned, eyeing his assistant skeptically. "And how do you propose we get any work out of him, with both arms bandaged to the elbows?"
Dale threw both arms up. "He's a geologist—he can advise us on the situation in the mines! All you need is his brain!"
Holscomb shook his head, pulling up the medical records. "Maybe…what makes you think he has anything to hide other than his smarts?"
"The way the university didn't chip him. Please, just order genetic testing on him?"
"It's too expensive," Holscomb sighed, leaning closer to the monitor to study the patient. Narrowing his gaze, he considered Dale's hunch. "He is younger than I first thought…reportedly off grid for a while, reason unknown... alright, call Medical and order the testing."
"Great!" Dale exclaimed, heading toward the door. "Trust me—hunters don't waste their time unless they see something of value."
"Wait a minute…" he said, lifting a hand as new files opened on the computer. "What do we have here: suspected Semitic heritage? Get Stevens to take him to Interrogation—I want to talk to him myself."
"We're gonna have a problem releasing him if Doc's around," Dale sighed. "Plus we got nothing—he's not going to talk, sir."
"Ah but I have ways…too bad the university was wiped out in the tsunami—find out if they had a data storage contract anywhere else."
"Whatever you say, Warden."
"And get him released for questioning, Doc or no Doc."
Daniel bit back a gasp of pain, clenching his jaw as the grip on his injured arm tightened. The goon working him over had huge hands, both of which were tightening their grip on his right arm. He felt the pain burn up his arm and into his shoulder. Glancing down at the damage, he was shocked at how swollen and bruised it was, with black stitching crisscrossing the barely healed skin. Then his torturer twisted it between his hands, sending waves of pain and nausea crashing over him. He groaned, hanging his head as he shivered in the cold.
God, help me bear it, he prayed inwardly, despair rising within him at the prolonged session. He'd lost track of time since the warden had had him delivered here. Just help me to keep quiet.
"Remember, I said I'd let you go once you tell me your story, Professor."
He lifted his head to meet the warden's gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He thought of Amy and Samuel, swearing he'd protect them at all costs. Any information about his background or the university could connect his sister's visit to him and expose her.
Hollscomb leaned closer, the musky scent of his cologne making him even more nauseous. "I don't really want to hurt you—Doc will be upset with me, after all the work he did on you," he stated calmly. "You've certainly suffered enough from the hands of the bounty hunters—why suffer more?"
Daniel gritted his teeth as the goon named Stevens started working on his other arm, swallowing a cry of protest just before it was released.
"I'm just curious about you," Holscomb soothed, "and whatever you tell me will help us decide how to best put you to use here. Resign yourself, Professor—you're here to stay."
His breath touched Daniel's ear, he was that close; it was a different tactic than all the shouting he'd done, though Daniel preferred that to the current tactic. He held his peace, watching the warden draw back to resume his pacing before him.
"Let's see, according to the bounty hunters you dropped out of sight as a teenager—what happened with that? Have a little problem with the folks?" he mocked.
Daniel looked away, eyeing the goon, who watched the proceedings with satisfaction.
"Ah, family disagreements—tell me about yours," Holscomb stated, crossing his arms. "I'm interested in ancestry—it's one of my favorite hobbies."
Daniel bit back the snide remark that leapt into his head, holding his tongue as he averted his gaze.
"What did you do—run away from home? Stay with friends? Maybe even live off the streets?" he commiserated. "It seems that you've done remarkably well despite that, getting yourself a university position."
Daniel bowed his head, praying silently.
"How then does a young unaffiliated teenager end up educated and a professor, no less?" the warden mused. "Even stranger, why would a state university let someone like you get away with remaining off-grid? Did you pay them off? And where would you get the money for that?"
Daniel shivered and fought another wave of nausea.
"Maybe you have some secret mentor, or benefactor—but what kind of person would break the law to protect you? And why?"
Daniel tensed as his torturer stepped closer, tapping a thick club into one palm.
"Answer me!" Holscomb shouted before he was hit on the side of the head. Seeing stars, he slumped forward. The leather straps restraining him cut into his bare shoulders before two hands clamped down onto them to pull him back up.
"You are a stubborn one," Holscomb laughed happily, resuming his pacing. "You know, too many blows to the head are bad for one's memory, but you will talk."
Suddenly his pager went off, which he pulled out with a sigh. "Well it seems we must cut short today's meeting—I really need to attend to some important business, but we'll resume the day after tomorrow. Use the time wisely and reconsider your silence," he ordered, turning abruptly.
A hand clamped down onto the top of Daniel's head as the restraints were unfastened. Listening to the retreating footsteps echo throughout the chamber, he hugged his injured arms close as he was dragged to his feet.
Thank you, God… he prayed silently, swaying on his feet as the henchman grabbed his arm, steadying him.
"Get moving," he growled, tightening his collar in a choke hold as he guided him toward the exit. Struggling to loosen its grip, he gasped for breath and followed closely behind.
They traversed a long corridor, the air growing colder and damper and felt like the bowels of the prison.
"Time for a little Solitary," the guard growled, halting before a cell and punching in a security code. When the door opened he was released, the guard shoving him inside. He fell forward from a blow to the back of his head, feeling himself begin to black out.
"That's what you get for being uncooperative..." Daniel he heard him chuckle as the iron lock slammed down.
Mara glanced furtively around as the elevator doors opened, pushing the gurney forward. Her old home felt even colder than before, making her shiver. Pushing the deceased prisoner toward the Morgue, she passed her former cell with a murmur of thanks, noting that the other cells were empty—most prisoners chose to comply rather than risk being sent to Solitary, partly because it was the gateway to the Morgue. It was also the darkest rat-infested section of the prison, as far as she knew.
She glanced down at the black plastic sheeting covering the deceased, an old woman Mike had tried to save in the ICU but lost anyway. He'd somehow seemed affected by this one, which explained why he assigned her mortuary duty instead of doing it himself.
"All the newbies get a stint, nothing personal," he'd stated blandly, handing her the keys. "Just pretend it's a load of laundry you're delivering to the chute."
Now positioned at the double doors, she inserted the key and waited, thankful that so far no one had discovered her stealing. She'd adopted a willing enough attitude in order to hide the fact that she was formulating a plan to leave. With the grapevine rumoring troubled times ahead for the few Jews here, she knew she didn't have long before they discovered both her stealing and her identity, and wasn't about to become a casualty of Holscomb's antisemitism.
As the pneumatic locks hissed and the doors opened she shot up a prayer for the professor, about whom she'd heard nothing since Dale transferred him out of Medical three days ago. Spence had been furious, stating he wasn't recovered enough for questioning. All attempts to locate him had been unsuccessful, but Doc was still working on it. She somehow knew that Holscomb had him, thanks to the Semitic flag on his files, and feared for him. She was also worried that somehow they'd find out she hadn't given him a full dose of leuprolide as ordered. Then they'd come after her too.
Pushing the gurney through the huge vault-like room, she studied the unoccupied drawers and found an open one. Positioning the foot at its hatch, she grabbed the i.d. card and inserted it into the slot. It lit up, so she disconnected the mattress from the frame and slid the old woman in. Retracting the frame, she closed and sealed the door. Signing the form on the clipboard, she noted the date the medical examiner was due back in with a sigh of relief. She had time.
On her way back to the door, she paused to go over to the wall, lift one of the certificate frames away and pluck out the loose sheetrock. With a furtive glance around, she pulled out the stolen meds from her waistband and tucked them inside the hiding place. Replacing the sheetrock and frame, she grasped the gurney and guided it out into the hall, securing the lock behind her. Wheeling it through the cell block, she jumped when her beeper went off. Heart pounding, she pulled it out and read the LED message with a sigh.
Need you in the ER in 20 mins. Mike.
Continuing on toward the elevator, she paused at her old cell to glance back at the morgue. The ME would examine the collected corpses and file his reports, after which an attendant would dispose the bodies via the elimination chute, destination unknown. She'd seen the procedure upon her arrival down here, and had decided they must flush them all down into some kind of chemical pool on the Outside. That had given her the inspiration for her plan.
It might be the unknown, but it was a way out…
As she waited at the elevator door she wrestled with the idea of an escape, knowing that even if it did work she would be vulnerable on the Outside. It would be a huge risk, traveling alone out there, not to mention the fact that she couldn't swim. Maybe if she could grab onto the sides of the chute before reaching the chemical pools she could make it. The idea brought her an exhilarating mixture of both fear and excitement and she was determined to try it anyway. All that was left to do was steal a few more supplies, a change of clothes and some of that black plastic to hide beneath.
Now, waiting for the elevator to arrive, she paced the block thinking about how to access Doc's schedules call sheets to find out how many bodies were currently stored in the morgue. Maybe then—
A sound invaded her thoughts, sending chills up her spine. She heard the distant sound of the elevator grinding to a halt far above, and in the ensuing silence she heard something else—a thump. It was coming from near her old cell. Approaching it slowly, she heard a soft moan, more like a whisper. Her heart raced as she stood before the door staring into the darkness.
"Who's there?" she whispered, listening intently. Then after a moment she heard a soft groan, as if someone were groaning in their sleep. Inspired, she fished a pack of crackers from her pocket and tossed them inside. "Here—tell me your name! I used to be a prisoner here too."
Rats scurried off in the distance but she knew they would be back for the food. Leaning closer she gripped the bars.
"Are you hurt? I work in Medical if you need help…tell me your name."
After a moment of silence she heard someone stir. Then a voice, very hoarse, called out.
"Daniel…" he croaked, making her heart lurch.
"The professor?" she whispered, glancing back at the elevator indicator panel; it was heading slowly down to their level. "Is it really you? I thought you were dead by now!"
A foot stretched toward her, but she heard nothing more.
"Look I have to go, but I'll be back—don't worry," she said quickly, deciding on her next course of action. "I'm getting out of here, and I can help you too."
She waited, surprised when a low voice answered. "Taylor?"
Her heart leapt for joy but she shook her head. "I can't stay but I'll be back," she promised.
"No time…" he sighed.
She rushed back to the gurney just as the elevator doors opened. Heart pounding, she shoved it inside and turned to glance back, seeing nothing. Entering the car, she punched the Up arrow, frantically praying that she hadn't made a gross mistake.
By 3 a.m. they'd lost another patient, an elderly man whom Doc wanted shipped out due to the infectious nature of his illness. Apologizing for the repeat trip and long shift, he offered her the night off when she finished the transfer.
"I can't risk any of the others getting the virus," he stated grimly. "I'd do it myself to spare you, but I've got to get a report out to the warden by morning. An extra guard is coming in case I need help, but you go ahead and get some rest—you deserve it."
This is it she thought, hiding her excitement. It's a clear window through which to escape…
"Alright, I'll take him down," she sighed tiredly, picking up the keys again.
"Great—and if you could come in by 9 I'd really appreciate it," Doc added distractedly, his eyes on his tablet. I'll page Mike instead, if anything comes up."
"Thanks, Doctor Spencer," she replied, offering a tired smile. "I don't mind, really."
"No problem—see you in the morning," he waved, "and don't forget his belongings—the bag hanging inside his locker."
"Ok," she agreed, turning toward the ICU. Going to the room with the sheet-draped body, she opened the locker and took out the bag of clothes, stuffing it beneath the gurney. Guiding it out of the room, she passed the break room and glanced toward the office. Making sure that Doc was preoccupied with his report, then checking the security cam, she rushed into the break room and stole some food, shoving it into a sack. Tucking it under the sheet, she wheeled the gurney back toward the elevator and waited.
Now is the time…trust Me…
Wondering if this really was happening, she told herself she was not dreaming. Somehow everything was falling into place, without having anticipated how easy it would be.
Am I crazy, thinking I can escape?
The doors opened and once again she positioned the gurney inside the elevator and directed it to the basement level morgue. She had time to switch the body with Daniel and get them both out—was it possible? Excited and afraid, she prayed for courage and that they might somehow get out together. If they didn't, they could both be eliminated at the whim of the warden or the Government. It had to be tonight.
Daniel was roused by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Gasping in shock, he threw up a hand to ward off the attack, surprised when a soft voice gentled the grip on him.
"It's me, Taylor," she whispered as he started up at her in dazed amazement. Bending to slide her arm beneath his shoulder, she helped him to a sitting position, motioning to the open cell door and gurney.
"What are—"
"I'm getting us out of here," she whispered, struggling to help him stand. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, curling his arm around his side.
"How?"
"Can you help me move him?"
Blinking in the semi-darkness, he shuffled toward the gurney. She lifted the sheet, glancing up at him as he grimaced.
"Change places," she ordered, folding the sheet back and grabbing the deceased's arm. "Help me!"
He obeyed as best he could, both arms burning with pain. Together they slid the body off, dragging it into the darkness as they panted with effort. Then she took his arm, directing him back toward the gurney.
"Get on, and don't make a sound."
"How did you unlock—"
"Quiet!" she whispered, though he had spoken close in a whisper. Gesturing, she helped him up, covering him with the sheeting.
"Don't move," she whispered close, though he couldn't see anything. "You're dead, ok?"
He didn't move as she guided the gurney down a length of the corridor. There was a pause, then a hissing sound following the tiny ping of keys, he guessed. A whoosh of doors opening and moving again made him wonder if he was dreaming. And for once it wasn't a nightmare.
Locks clanged into place and he was moving again. They paused while she whispered to him from a short distance away. "I just have to get some things first."
He lay there unmoving as directed, listening intently to every sound. There was a soft scrape of something, then the sounds of packages…something beneath him was opened and the stuffing sounds again…
"Almost there," she reassured him, a soft touch on his shoulder.
He heard another hydraulic lock, another swish and then the distant sound of water, all coming as if through an echoing chamber of some sort. What was she doing?
Then the sheet was unfurled off as he blinked in the low light. Struggling to sit up, he watched her bend over a plastic sack, stuffing something orange inside. Swinging his legs over, he slid off and grabbed the frame to steady himself. She turned and smiled radiantly, her teeth white in the darkness.
"This is it!" she whispered, "our escape!"
He grabbed the white material flung at him, watching in amazement as she stepped into a matching cocoon-like suit, zipping it up before tying her hair up. She waved for him to hurry as she fastened the plastic bag to her belt.
"Hurry!" she hissed as he stepped into a matching suit, then followed her into the cavelike entryway. The sound of running water echoed loudly as he fastened his zipper. She positioned a wooden pallet on the slide, then spread out a black plastic dropcloth over it.
"Push the gurney out," she ordered, working quickly. He shoved it gently, watching it slowly roll back out into the main vault of the morgue, which is what he guessed this to be. Then he turned to her, leaning close.
"What is this?" he whispered, swallowing thickly.
"A disposal chute—our only way out."
He studied the steep drop, not liking the rush of the water. His arm ached but he kept it pinned close to his side.
"We can sit, like on a bobsled," she explained, tossing him the end of a long rope. "I'll sit behind you and help steady you."
"Whe—where does it go?" he muttered, moving to the position where she pointed. Gasping as he bent to sit down, he held onto the end of the rope as she attached it to a guide line above. Then she moved to sit behind him, bracing his hips with her knees as he stared down into the black chasm. Her arms came around him but he grunted in pain.
"Sorry—I'll hold onto the edge. Brace yourself."
"Wait—where does this go?"
"Outside!"
"Where outside?"
She fumbled with the rope, muttering to herself.
"Do you know?"
"A dissolving pond, I think."
He stared down the escape chute, feeling panic rising within him. "We'll be cooked…"
"I think it's like a waterfall with different levels," she stated, pointing down. "Hopefully the lowest level has the chemicals—can you swim?"
"Yes but—"
"Well I can't but we'll deal with that later."
"Are you craz—"
Before he could finish she hit the flush lever and a burst of water pommeled them down the chute and into the darkness. She held him in a death grip while he pressed back against her while they bumped erratically down, picking up speed. The plastic furled up and around them as water soaked their suits. With a jolt of fear he was aware of being hurled around a turn and leaned into the direction, barely managing to stay on the pallet. The water lifted them higher, its sound thundering around them as they descended. Suddenly they were airborne, screaming without a sound issuing forth.
"God—" he yelled in prayer as they shot out over a wide span of water, flying downward through the darkness. The sound of a torrent greeted them, deafening in its volume. They hit hard, immediately swallowed by swiftly moving waters, unable to see anything except the faint starlight high above. He struggled against the pull of the water, kicking and shoving his arms backward to head back up to the surface.
He can swim! she marveled as they came up gasping and choking, managing to tread water. She grabbed his belt and held on as he fought the current, eventually making progress away from the center of the huge pool. Trying not to panic, she managed a weak frog kick behind him, and after what seemed like an hour they were gripping the branches of a fallen tree at the edge of the river. Dragging themselves out, they staggered up the bank and fell onto the mossy earth, lying on their backs and catching their breath. After a while she managed to sit up, leaning over him as he flung an arm over his eyes.
"Are you alright?" she asked loud enough to be heard over the roar of the water. When he didn't answer she gripped his shoulder, waiting for him to respond.
Finally he dropped his arm and sighed mightily, then slowly began to sit up. She helped him, learning her head close to his. "Professor?"
He lifted a hand to his temple, making her wonder for the first time what torture he'd been through. But now was not the time—they would be looking for them soon.
"Come on," she encouraged, sliding her arm beneath his as they both slowly got up. The bank was steep, and it was a struggle to climb it. Supporting each other, they finally stood with eyes trying to focus upon the river below. It was too dark to see its course, but she was thankful there had been no chemical pool after all. The bodies must just get broken up on the rocks, or wash up on some distant shore. She didn't know the area at all, and could only guess.
Suddenly aware of his turning toward her, she half turned to face him, wishing she could see his eyes. He reached for her arm, found her hand and clasped it in his.
"You got us out," he said in a low voice, still catching his breath.
The wind lifted, making her teeth chatter as she nodded. Checking the plastic bag still hanging from her belt, she opened it and checked the contents. At her side she felt a shiver run through him.
"I've got dry clothing…we need to change."
Back to back they stripped off all but their underwear, pulling on the jumpsuits she'd stolen from Laundry. Feeling warmer already, she turned to help him pull the sleeves over his injured arms, sensing him shiver again. But she said nothing. As she'd helped him zip up, he touched her arm.
"We'd better move," he said quietly, glancing around. "Into the woods."
Gathering up all their things, they moved into the denser brush just as a pale light materialized against the dark canopy of the sky. The wind was blowing stronger, and she saw him glance up at the stars again.
35
"We head north," he pointed, taking the lead as they slipped soundlessly into the dense cover of the trees.35