“Will do,” I promise him and ringing in the car speakers makes my muscles freeze into place. Fallout’s number pops up on the car’s display and I hold my breath, praying the call doesn’t end after one lonely ring.
“One.” I say out loud, too nervous to remain silent. I dig my fingernails into the seat under me, trying to figure out how to remain calm. I can’t. It’s not possible. I am freaking out.
“Two!” I yell, when the second ring comes through and then practically scream three after the third. “Fucking three, South! Burn rubber!”
South runs the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping away beads of sweat, and then across his jeans. Looks like I’m not the only one eaten up by anxiety right now. “You got it, brother!” he calls out, the excitement he is feeling is undeniable in his almost chipper tone. His thumb pushes back the button on the gearshift, and he rips into back into reverse, backing out of the bushes we are between to keep unwanted eyes off us. When we are on the blacktop, he slams it into drive and stops the gas pedal flat against the floorboard.
CHAPTER 12
Leila
It is ten till eleven and nothing remotely interesting is going on. The rookie C.O. gave report to another guy with probably the same amount of inexperience as DJ gave hers to Jessica, and then the two nightshift employees left the unit. I tried to get some sleep, but DJ’s mysterious message has not left my head. Every time my eyelids close the only thing I can think of is oversleeping and missing eleven o’clock, even though I’m not even certain that missing it would be that big of a deal. I get that she couldn’t say much and probably would lose her job for relaying the message from whoever it came from, if anyone of importance ever finds out. I’m not ungrateful, I understand what she’s risking by doing so. I just wish she could have told me more, so I can better prepare myself for whatever is coming. Ok. So I can prepare at all. Currently there aren’t many physical options to get really for whatever it is, because you don’t get to bring many personal belongs with you for an overnight stay in medical. Being in prison isn’t like staying at a hotel for a night. A person gets the bare minimum, maybe just a step above what we have in lock up. The “lights out” rule is a little more laxed up here, but there is not much difference where you are in the prison. At the end of the day, the workers get to walk out the door and go home, while us inmates call the place they left behind home.
As far as I can tell everything is going business as usual. Jessica is in her med room pulling different pill cards from the cart, popping pills out into a cup, and then she slides the card back into place. The rookie, whose name I learned was Fish, gets up from his desk every little bit, walking the infirmary floor to its entirety, briefly stopping every now and again when someone asks him a question. Maybe I misjudged him. In the little time he has been here, he’s already done more than the officer did last night.
C.O. Fish notices me standing at the door, his head turns in my direction and then his feet do the same. My attention flies to the hands of the clock in a panic. Five minutes until eleven. I have to get rid of him, my cell can’t be where he stands when the hour strikes…or at least I don’t think he can. Hell! I have no idea who or what can be where at that time. I could be freaking out over nothing, and I have considered that fact numerous times since DJ told me. But there’s a small sinking feeling in my stomach telling me to trust her. DJ has never steered me wrong, so I don’t think she would start now. That is the part I cling to. I don’t trust very many people in this world, and I never have, but I do trust DJ. If the situation were different and we met out on the street, not in prison with me being the inmate and her the nurse, I think we could actually be friends. No, I know we could.
Jessica slams the drawer of her pill cart closed and closes herself inside the med room. The slamming of the cart is a little unusual, but I’ve seen nurses close the med room door with them inside a few times. Eventually, I asked one of the lifers what they thought the nurses did when they closed the door. The response I got was something to the effect of, “Anything they don’t want us to see.” The answer was short, straight to the point, and made sense, so I didn’t doubt it.
The officer whips his body in the direction of the med room and rushes to the door. The guy has so speed to his step. I must need sleep more than I realize, because the closer he got to the door the more he looked like a blur. The door opens and he joins Jessica inside the med room, closing the door behind him. That’s definitely different. Is this what I am waiting for, a C.O> and nurse doing who knows what inside the med room? Unless one of them murders the other—if that happens, I am rooting for Jessica—which I doubt is going down, if this is the grand finale, it’s a huge letdown.
The little hand is on the eleven and the big hand is on the twelve. My hands shake with anticipation, and I feel stupid for getting this worked up. All of the sudden, my door unlocks, but not a soul is near the control panel where the knobs are that unlock each cell. I hold my hands up, palms facing outward, not sure what I should do. This would not be the first time I get in trouble for something I haven’t done, not by a long shot. My feet step backwards on step at a time, until I’m backed against the back wall of the cell. I’m making sure everyone knows I did not do something to the lock. If Tayvors busy-body eyes catches my hands anywhere remotely close to the door, she will blame me regardless of if I touched it or not. Back here she cannot see me, so maybe I’m safe.
The door swings open by itself, and a draft of wind blows through the tiny cell. At first, I do not think anything of it. Wind blows doors open all the time, but there aren’t any open windows or a huge fan in sight that could be responsible for a gust strong enough to easily move a door of that size. Not to mention, the last time I checked, it didn’t have apposable thumbs that are usually required to turn the knob that had to be rotated to open my door—but that part could a system malfunction. The door is explainable. The random gust of wind on the other hand…not so much.
Something warm circles my arms and a voice from somewhere in the room whispers to me, “Don’t speak. I’m here to help. Please trust me. Don’t be scared.”
My tongue jets out to wet my lips before I respond, but then I remember they what they asked. I clamp my lips together and nod, not knowing how else to let them know I agree. If this voice had come to any other person, they would have been terrified, and certainly screamed as they ran as far as they could in the opposite direction. Then again, I do not think many other inmates here would have stayed in the cell when the door opened as I had.
I don’t recognize the voice. It ‘doesn’t calm my racing heart immediately nor does it make it beat faster with excitement. The voice doesn’t belong to my wicked escape, but I’m not terrified of this voice either. I feel like I should recognize it, but I don’t. Maybe this is a newcomer here to takeover for the man I have sought comfort in for so many years. The thought makes my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. I am not even sure if the man with bottomless dark eyes is real, and yet here I stand mourning him as he has left me. The funny thing is, I don’t know if he has ever been with me at all. Today much be a lucid day, where my brain trusts what the Dr.’s has told me. The voice, now voices, are not really here. I’m hallucinating. I tell that on repeat, but it doesn’t sink into my mind. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so stinking hard to convince myself and to forget him, but I can’t.
Something pushes behind my knees and as I lose balance, one thought flies into my forefront—If this is the end, I hope I find him. It’s so incredibly sad, but I simply do not care. The same pressure as before is behind my knees, bracing them, and catching my body. There’s something else underneath my neck, supporting me head, “Hold on, Delayni. I’ll have you out of here soon. If you get motion sickness, please don’t puke on me,” the unknown voice instructs in a low tone. I nod again.
I go ahead and close my eyes for good measure. The truth is, I do not remember if I get motion sickness or now. Rather I’m not sure. Riding on a school bus never bothered me, but I have not been in a vehicle much the past several years, so I really don’t know if I’ll puke or not. A cool breeze flows around us and then it picks up. A blur of voices mix together, but I can’t make out what a single one of them is saying.
The temperature changes and suddenly, it’s warm. Is that the sun? It has to be, but how? How? How are we outside?
I want to open my eyes, but I am afraid I might puke on the person responsible for the new voice. I can’t take it any longer, I don’t know how long we will be outside or how long this vision will last if that is what it is going on, so I allow my eyelids to pop open. We are most definitely outside and I start to panic. I just escaped prison. Even though I didn’t take the first step out of the cell, I still think this still counts as a jailbreak regardless of whose shoes did the walking. We zip down the hill, and up the road, leading into the forest. Seconds later, a truck in the distance catches my attention. It must be where we’re going, because our speed slows.
I am placed on my own feet. and I turn to thank whoever for rescuing me, but I see him. His dark eyes hungerly watching me from the passenger side of the truck Without thinking, I lick my lips and approach the truck. He isn’t wearing his usual handkerchief, I can see his whole face and man, he is even more breathtaking than I thought. My feet still just short of the truck, wanting to greet him, but then I realized I do not know his name. Honestly, I didn’t figure if I asked, he would tell me, so I never asked. Maybe I’m wrong and he would have answered any question I had, but I guess it really does not matter right now anyway.
The truck door flings open, and he, reaches his fingers for me to take, “Hurry up! Get in! We don’t have much time. We have to get you out of here, little fox.” The name that I’m not sure where it came from calms me. It’s him. I don’t give a shit if this is real or not, but I’ll take it. I jump in the cab beside him, and as soon as the door is closed, the truck takes off.
“Wait! What about the other voice? Are you going to leave him behind? He brought me out of there. Where is he?” The words fall from my lips in a rapid firing pattern. I want to save him like he saved me but have no idea where to start.
“Relax, Delayni. He is in the back,” the driver reassures me, and I jump. Of course someone is driving. I should have noticed him before now, but I was too busy studying the man I have escaped with for as long as I can remember. Too overwhelmed to finally see his full face to notice anything else around us, I guess.
“Oh.” I don’t correct him by telling him my name is Leila, I’ve heard the name before, but I thought it was a mistake. What if the name is not the mistake, but it’s me instead? Could the man have thought I was someone else for all of these years? My heart physically hurts when I consider this to be true. If it’s what is going on, I wish they would have left me in the prison cell to rot. Rotting away to nothing would have been less cruel than finding out I have been rescued on accident.
“You’re not an accident, Delayni…Leila,” the man who brings me comfort says, taking my hand into his.
“Oh, ok.” I robotically answer him, unable to make out the trees as we zip past them well over the speed limit. “That’s good to know.” Just as I am about to thank him for clearing things up, a thought enters my head. I didn’t say those things out loud. Did I? “Wait. I didn’t. You couldn’t know…” My words are coming out in a jumbled mess, so I give up.
“You’re right, you didn’t say them out loud. But I do know, and my name is North.”
“As in the direction? Yeah ok. Sure. And I guess his name must be South.” The man beside me laughs and North’s sides vibrate with silent laughter.
“Actually, it is,” the driver chuckles, his eyes flicking over to me and then back to the road.
