Rip Entry: Entering the water with zero to little splash producing the sound of ripping paper.
WE MAKE a beeline for the front door and I grab the shovel while running past GP’s office. I jump the concrete stoop and race to my truck, turning my head to see Iris lagging behind, struggling to hang on to everything she took from the house. I grab most of her stack and pull her along. There isn’t time for being gentle; we have to move.
“Chip.” I release my grip on Iris to toss him my keys. “Drive.”
“You sure?”
We duck for cover as the whoosh of an angry rip current bellows through the air. The fire has taken its first angry gulp, opening wide to devour everything in its path. Flames are already starting to lick the shake-shingles of the house, mesmerizing me. Fire. Always fire. I toss the shovel into the backseat beside Iris and hand her my dad’s evidence.
We hear a loud pop, almost like a firework, an explosion.
“Was that a gun?” Chip asks. His eyes are as wide as the circles on my instrument panel.
“Maybe. Yes. Fuck! I don’t know.” I hit the dashboard twice. “Go. Drive.” My heart is beating so hard it hurts. I think of my dad, his heart attack while driving. I don’t know if GP will get out but I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.
Chip throws an arm behind the passenger seat and nails the gas, burning rubber as he peels out of the driveway, then takes off going the wrong way.
“Holy fuck. Where to?” he asks.
“Bang a U-ey, then head for the rotary and take Route twelve.” I turn to Iris in the backseat. “You okay?”
She nods, trembling.
“What the hell’s on Route twelve?”
“Green Hill. We’re going after my mom.”
“Now? What the fuck, Theo? Maybe we should go to the police.”
“I’m not waiting around for Ellis Hollow’s finest if my mom is rotting in that place. Because if we don’t get my mom out of there—or worse if I’m fucking wrong—then that asshole becomes my legal guardian.”
Chip torques the wheel, careening my truck to the right as we squeal in a semicircle and speed in the opposite direction. The perfect Masshole driver for the job.
I rubberneck to look at the flames rising above the gabled roof of my grandfather’s house. Phil’s Escalade tears out of the long driveway after us. Speeding to within an inch of my truck’s bumper, flooding our interior with his brights.
Father of the fucking year.
Chip flips the tab on the rearview to deflect the glare and spots the Escalade in the mirror. “Holy shit! I can’t believe he’s chasing us.”
“Forget everything I’ve ever said about your shitty driving and punch it.”
He grips the steering wheel tighter and floors the gas pedal, pushing his full weight into the seat.
Iris gasps and grips the edge of the driver’s seat. “Oh God, Theo. I don’t want to die in a car.” Her panic is as palpable as her biggest fear, history repeating itself.
“My dad doesn’t even know where I am,” she says. “What if—”
“It’s okay, Iris. Breathe. I’m gonna call Curtis and have him meet us at Green Hill. Being the fire marshal also makes him a statie. He’ll know what to do.”
“You don’t understand,” she says. “Dr. Maddox came to see me at the carnival. He was the intense customer I had right before you. I didn’t know.” Her voice is shaking. “I don’t usually tell people this because … I’m not supposed to, but I have this thing where sometimes I can see people’s colors, like their auras. In the tent, he was putting off all ego, and angry red. I’ve learned to associate colors with different personalities. Chip is often happy yellow or blue unless he’s talking about girls. And, Theo, you’re almost always orange and blue, but lately you’ve been going a little gray and ultraviolet. But your grandfather—I’m so sorry.”
She’s nervous, speaking faster than usual, but so many things she’s said, an orange vibe, normal blue skies, muddy, make sense now.
“What about my grandfather?” I ask.
“His aura was almost black when he and Curtis came to my house. I’ve only seen that once before, around my mom a few days before she died.”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. I get it. Death was already coming for him.
I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and dig into my pocket for my phone. But trying to do anything other than panic while racing at breakneck speed around the world’s worst rotary is easier said than done. I arch against the restraint of the seat belt and dig until I pull it free. With it comes several dollar bills and the access badge for Green Hill. My eyes pop. We never gave it back to Derek.
“I still have the VIP access badge,” I tell Iris.
Chip cuts me a glace and I brief him on how we got it at Green Hill.
I slide the badge into my back pocket, then dial Curtis. I speed talk when I get his voicemail, watching Iris wring her hands and take glances out the rear window.
“Curtis, it’s Theo. Listen, Phil Maddox just set fire to GPs house while we were inside. I don’t know if GP got out, but Phil is chasing us to Green Hill. I’m with Iris and Chip. We grabbed whatever we could from the house and we’re going after my mom. Go to the house or meet us at Green Hill as soon as you get this.”
“We’re almost there,” Chip says.
Phil must make the same assessment because he races alongside us and jerks his wheel, ramming his Escalade into the driver’s side of my truck. Iris screams as Chip swerves to avoid getting hit a second time. But Phil comes up alongside us again, forcing us into the breakdown lane. Chip speeds ahead for several yards, then tries to pull onto the main road, but he’s forced back into the narrow lane. Phil’s Escalade keeps inching us to the right until Chip has no choice but to ride against the guardrail. Bumblebee’s passenger door squeals in protest, scraping in one continuous shriek of metal on metal that grinds my nerves raw. I press my feet into the floor and push against the seat, cringing away from the door.
“Fuck,” Chip says. “He’s got me pinned.”
I look out the windshield and realize the guardrail ends up ahead. “Jeezus. Do you think he’s trying to run us off the road at Cutter’s Cross?”
“No, no, no. Not the ravine,” Iris says. “My God. Not like my mom.”
“Fuck that.” Chip cuts hard to the left into Phil’s truck. But I’m iffy on whether Phil Maddox will give up if Chip keeps nailing him. And I’m right, because he comes at us again.
“Hit the brakes!” I yell.
Chip slams the pedal, fishtailing and screeching to a stop, burning long strips of rubber in his wake. We momentarily outwit Phil who speeds ahead, tail lights glowing fiery red in the darkness.
“Go back and cut around to Prospect before he spins on us.”
Chip whips us around and punches the gas.
I face a panic-stricken Iris in the backseat. “We’re gonna be fine. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, but right now, I need you to help me scour the papers we took from the house. Look for anything that says where my mom is at Green Hill: a room number, a ward, anything.” She nods, and I swallow hard. “Iris, we’re gonna be okay. I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you … I—” I don’t finish the sentiment, but the words linger in my mind. I freaking love you. “Don’t be afraid.”
Iris nods again and gets to work.
“Uh, Captain Quint,” Chip says. “I think he’s coming back around for his noon feeding.” His eyes are fixed on the rearview.
“All you can do is try to outrun him.”
“I have a better idea.”
Chip makes a hairpin turn onto a side street, tossing me against the door. “Amy lives around here,” he says. “There’s a defunct service road where we go to park. It cuts straight through to Monarch Drive and back to Route twelve.”
Chip to the rescue.
“Theo,” Iris says hesitantly. “I can’t find anything, but do you remember what Derek told us about where they do research?”
I don’t have a chance to answer because Chip hits a thick tree branch in the road. My truck bounces high, hitting down with a thud that slams my head against the window. I grab the gearshift knob and zigzag Bumblebee into 4-D, engaging instant traction for the next mile of mud and fallen debris.
I make sure Iris is okay before I nod and say, “I remember. I thought the same thing.”
We squeal into the parking lot at Green Hill Psychiatric Hospital five minutes later and file out of the truck. The damage to Bumblebee’s side panel is monstrous. I can’t believe we made it here alive. Chip’s driving usually scares the shit out of me, but we needed Speed Racer to come through strong in the finish.
There’s no good way to start looking. There’s also no time. Just because we haven’t seen Phil Maddox since the service road, doesn’t mean he isn’t coming, and that has every nerve in my body taut with tension.
“I’m going in,” I say.
“Alone? What about the graves?” Iris says. “What if your mom is…?” She doesn’t voice her suspicion, and neither do I.
“I think it’s better if we split up. I’ll be faster on my own. I don’t think he knows I have an access card.”
“No. I’m going with you,” she says, hands on her hips. The girl who jumped down from a tree after trying to save a single monarch.
“I’ll dig,” Chip says. “You two go.”
“Grab the shovel from the backseat,” I tell him. “There’s a flashlight in the hatch. Don’t get spotted. Just because we haven’t seen him, doesn’t make this a breather. “Ready?” I ask Iris.
“Point me in the right direction first,” Chip says. “This is a big-ass cemetery.”
“Maybe you should stay with Chip. You’re the only one who knows how to read the map and find the markers.”
Iris looks at her wrist where she wrote the plot numbers, then turns to Chip. “You’re going to the south side. That way.” She points Chip in the right direction. “The graves are in waves of hundreds. Here’s where you need to be.” She punches a small hole in the map with her finger. Walk halfway and find a stone in the ground and check the number. Keep going until you get to the eight hundreds. You’re looking for eight fifty-six and eight fifty-seven.”
“Go,” Chip says. “I got this.”
Ready or not.
I expel a big breath with a short “Whoo.” Then rally and throw my hood forward, jogging straight for the employee entrance with Iris by my side. I swipe the badge without hesitation. The little green Go light flashes and we forge ahead on pure adrenaline. Once we’re in the stairwell our only option is to go up. We take the stairs two at a time and stand at the next door. I start thinking of this whole search-and-rescue like the game Chip and I used to play as kids: Red Light, Green Light. Then I swipe the badge again.
Green light. Go.
I open the door and peek into an empty hallway.
Red light. Freeze.
The camera in the corner is blinking. Someone, somewhere, could be watching us and be on their way. But we have to find our way to the basement. My pulse quickens. Screw it. We’re out of options. I press myself flat against the wall on the camera side and tell Iris to do the same, and then we sidestep-run to the stairwell at the end.
Swipe.
Green light. Go.
I jump several sets of stairs that wind down to the basement. To my astonishment, Iris does the same. The gymnast’s daughter. I hold my breath and swipe the card again, but nothing happens. I repeat the swipe. Nothing.
“Didn’t Derek say this was a full-access badge?”
Iris nods. “He must have lied.”
“Fuck. Of course he did.” I kick the door. “We have to find another way.”
We make it up a half-flight when we hear the door to the basement open, and then a whistle that sounds like yoo-hoo. Followed by, “Eh, gypsy girl? You there?”
Iris’s eyes bug out before she walks down the stairs ultra slowly. “Valentina Gabor. Is that your name?”
The elderly woman nods. “I see you coming. You need inside?”
“Yes,” Iris says. “We do.”
“You see things?” she asks Iris with more scrutiny.
“Yes, I do.”
“Everybody here sees things.” Valentina steps aside, granting us access, then walks up the stairs to a different floor humming a song.
Iris draws a sharp breath. “That’s the lullaby my mom used to sing.”
The subterranean level is a far cry from the hospital upstairs. The lights are brighter, the walls and furniture newer, and the weighty vibe of whatever scientific work is happening here increases the antiseptic stench tenfold.
When we reach the halfway point, we find a circular room surrounded by glass. Walking around the perimeter is a single-file-only option, like a subway trench for rats. We survey the desks and workstations. The only things not following the room’s shape are the two examination tables in the center.
Two tables, two graves, each lying side by side.
I can’t help but think disposing of Mom and me like the forgotten patients in the unmarked graves outside has been Phil’s endgame all along.
We walk into the arena-like lab, surprised there isn’t some sleeping-on-the-job-night-shift asswipe nodding off at a desk. But aside from the hum of fluorescent lights, the ward is unnervingly quiet and empty.
I hold my breath and swipe the card.
Green light. Go.
If I can find my mom’s name in the system I can find her room. I pick a random desk and tap the Enter key on the computer keyboard, waking an internal network that groans from sleep and offers me a blinking cursor. I type Mom’s name into the blank field.
Name/ID: Mackey
SEARCH NOT FOUND
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Name/ID: Rogan
SEARCH NOT FOUND
Name/ID: Balanchuk
Blink. Blink. Blink
SEARCH NOT FOUND
Shit. Think.
Name/ID: Dudyk
Iris checks the door and windows as the timer wheel spins. I chew my thumbnail and bounce my knees. The circle goes around, searching the database. Then the screen blinks to life from top to bottom, filling in the data fields.
“Got it.”
Iris is back at my side in a flash. I scan for relevant information, skipping over things that beg to be read. But there isn’t time.
Name/ID: Dudyk, Sophia
Client #: BL-08
Doctor #: Maddox
DSM-IV Axis: 296.43, 296.44, 296.65
Ward: SecSub1
Room: 110
“Room one-ten. Let’s go.” I push the chair away from the desk, ready to find Mom and spring her from this hellhole, when my cell phone shatters the silence.
Shit.
I pull it from my pocket and swipe-to-answer fast, hoping I can stop the phone from ringing a second time.
“Looking for something?”
I know that voice. I lower my phone and turn slowly. Derek the orderly is standing behind us, arms crossed over his barrel chest. Band-Aids on his chin, cheek, and forehead make him seem like less of a threat, which isn’t true. The bandage on his cheek doesn’t fully cover the festering sore underneath. I remember the way Valentina cursed him with rotting flesh and can’t help wondering if it came true.
“What are you two doing down here?” he asks. “Don’t tell me; let me guess. You came back to save the animals?”
Curtis’s voice rips through my phone’s speaker. “Theo? Is that you? Where are you?”
“What about you?” I ask Derek. “You told us you didn’t have full access to the wards AT GREEN HILL.” I give our location in the loudest voice possible without shouting, hoping Curtis catches on.
“Dr. Maddox felt the need to beef up his security on this ward. Especially after I told him you were asking about Luanne.”
“On my way,” Curtis says faintly from my phone. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Too late. I’m facing Green Hill’s resident Mountain Troll.
Derek cocks an eyebrow when he catches sight of my phone. He lunges and Iris trips him, buying us a few seconds. We dash through the door and down a hallway, reading room numbers out loud to each other in search of 110.
“Get back here, you little shits,” Derek thunders behind us.
We race to a corner that hopefully turns in the right direction. The door at the end of this new hallway swings inward and we find ourselves face-to-face with Lianne Cole, wielding a black pistol.
We screech to a halt.
Derek rounds the corner behind us in hot pursuit, and I know we’re out of options. I knew Iris should have stayed outside with Chip. I vacillate left and right, trying to decide which of the two is the lesser threat.
“Gotcha in a game of pickle,” Derek says. “Don’t bother trying to escape this time, junior. Uncle-Daddy will be here any minute.”
I narrow my eyes, glaring, seething disgust.
“Theo,” Lianne says calmly, “take Iris and run past me.”
I don’t know what kind of twisted person tells their prey to keep running so they can shoot a moving target, but I’m not budging.
“Fuck you, Lianne.”
Her eyes go round.
“Yeah. I know who you are. Lianne Cole, paramedic, sister to Luanne Cole, the 1988 second place springboard diver who died when she was sixteen. You blame my mom for that, don’t you, because she never told anyone what she saw? Is that why you were okay drugging me? Her son for your sister. Go ahead and shoot then. Just know it might be the last thing you do as a free woman.”
Her eyes twitch and behind us Derek laughs. “Don’t look at me, doll,” he says. “I would have blasted the little fuckers by now.”
For a brief second, when my anger was telling me to call Lianne’s bluff, I thought challenging her was the way to go. Now that she’s taking aim, all I can do is squeeze Iris’s hand, close my eyes, and surrender to the inevitable. Knowing full well and good that standing at the wrong end of a point-blank range weapon is a ballistics no-brainer.
Game. Over.
There’s a loud pop, but the jolt and searing pain that should follow never comes. Instead, a heavy thud sounds behind us, making me spin. Derek is convulsing on the ground, pissing his scrubs. And Lianne Cole is on the right end of a long line, Tasering the shit out of him.
“Run,” Lianne says. “There’s no time for me to explain.”
“Make time. I’m not gonna let you Taser us from behind.”
“I won’t. Dr. Maddox doesn’t even know I’m here. Your mother told me what he has planned for me. She saw you coming here. You’re not the only ones he preyed upon. We’re all his pawns. But I’m your only hope for getting you two out of here.”
“Does he know you’re not Luanne? Was that part of the plan?”
She nods. “The colored contacts were my idea, though. I wanted your mother to see me every day and be reminded of what she’d done. Neglected to do. My sister Luanne had hazel eyes. Mine are brown.”
“For how long?”
“Years. Since the fire. But then I saw you again, all grown up, and I felt so much remorse for what I was helping him do. None of this will bring back my sister. I’m sorry about everything, but I’m not lying to you.”
Iris shakes my arm. “She’s not lying, Theo. Her aura is as blue as Chip’s. Come on. Let’s go.”
Iris pulls me past Lianne Cole, but my own distrust still makes me cringe as I wait to be hit from behind. When nothing happens, I take off like a bullet, reading room numbers: 101, 102, 103. The electricity in the lights crackles, then hums loudly and I’m jolted by the similarities. The deserted hallway, white walls, gray doors. Everything but the dirt being shoveled in beside me. The numbered doors run in reverse order and bend around another corner: 108, 109, 110. We found it. I’m so mind-blown and fixated on our goal that I don’t see Phil Maddox slither around the corner until Iris screams.
He walks toward us slowly, deliberately controlling every move like this is a game of chess. Too bad I’m no longer one of his rooks.
“This is the hallway I saw in my vision.”
“I’m impressed,” he says. “It took your father—a term I’m willing to use loosely for all intents and purposes—much longer to figure it out with his more pedestrian methods. Nature versus nurture at play once again.”
“What do you know about nurture?” I spit. “You lied to me. We had a funeral. We put a casket in the ground. You let me believe I might be to blame.”
“A casket. But not a body. In your defense, I worked very hard to mislead you. But I never lied. Not if you think about every word. It may surprise you to know your mother came with me willingly, at first, once I guaranteed your safety.”
“Because you were having an affair or because you had her addicted to her own mind, like Dad said?”
“That’s a matter of perspective.”
“Not really. Mom tried to warn me, didn’t she? I overheard Dr. Aldridge say she seemed to be developing a variation in her ability. Remote messaging. That’s what I saw behind the house and while I was underwater. Christ, she was pointing at Iris. She knew I was going to smack and someone was going to save me. Not someone. The girl with the tattoos from the cliff. You bastard. You’ve known since then, haven’t you?” I look at Iris and almost laugh. “He’s the goddamn Snake from my card reading.”
She grips my arm tighter. “And the Mouse.”
“All those things are more or less true,” Phil says to me. “I was curious to see how you might react. I still am. Curious. You have so much potential, Theo. I can help you. All you have to do is decide which type of person you’d rather be, mundane or extraordinary.”
“I can be both,” I say, taking long purposeful strides toward him. “Step aside. I’m not leaving here without Mom.”
“You know I can’t let you get to that unreachable door. There’s more at stake here than the thing you want most.”
I spot the syringe he’s trying to hide behind his back and know he’ll jab me without giving it a second thought.
“Do it,” I hiss, hoping he gets the double-pointed barb.
Phil shifts his steely gaze to Iris. “What color am I now?” he asks.
And to my surprise she answers.
“Mostly black with shots of red and muddy brown when you should be nothing but shades of golden orange and blue, like your son. Someone who cares about people. Someone loyal and ambitious instead of egotistical and greedy.”
“Finally. An honest answer from the little fortune-teller,” he says.
Phil takes a step forward and we take a step back. Then we do it again, an excruciatingly slow waltz with Iris moving as my shadow.
“You can still do the right thing,” I say, stepping backward. “GP was right. Let Mom go with me and continue writing your research paper. I’m willing to help you. I’ll tell you everything about my dream states.”
“Precognition,” he says. “It’s time to call your gift by its proper name.”
“You don’t need her anymore,” I say, ignoring him. “Do you?”
He cocks a grin. “I needed Sophia Rogan from the moment I laid eyes on her. And you, if you care to believe it.”
He lunges at me with the syringe raised, aiming for my neck.
I jump out of the way and catch his arm, clamping my hand around his wrist. He grabs the back of my neck with his free hand and pushes my head forward, trying to fold me like a human accordion toward a needle that will make me lose everything all over again. Including Iris.
Phil Maddox is stronger than he looks. Matched to me in height and build. I’m tired from the horror of the swim meet, going to the hospital, the chase. The needle is inching closer. A bead of sweat runs down his temple, his teeth are clenched, veins bulging in his neck. But all of it pales against the determination in his eyes. If I want to win, normal rules don’t apply.
I opt for dirty fighting, nailing him in the groin with my knee. He releases an animalistic groan, but doesn’t cease his hold. I slam my forehead into the bridge of his nose and he flies backward, releasing his grip, stunned by pain I can only imagine. He recovers quickly, but I’m ready for him. “Come on,” I yell, wanting to hurt him the way he’s hurt me.
He lunges for Iris instead but freezes midstep and convulses, dropping to the floor at our feet with the whack of a plank of wood. Lianne Cole is standing behind him, holding the Taser.
“Run,” she says. “I can keep him down, but not for long.”
“Not without my mom.”
“Derek is going to show up any minute and remorse is not part of his vocabulary.” Lianne’s natural brown eyes are imploring. Without the contacts, I see the paramedic I remember more clearly.
“You don’t understand. I can’t leave this building without getting to the last door.”
Lianne takes a deep breath and picks up the syringe. “I’ll do what I can. I owe it to Sophia. Hurry.”
We take off at a run as Derek comes storming back toward Lianne.
“Fucking bitch,” he growls. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”
Lianne lifts her Taser and shoots Derek in the chest again. I watch her go after him while he’s still convulsing on the floor. The syringe she took from Phil Maddox primed in her hand.
I swipe the badge on room 110. Green light. Go.
Mom is sitting in a chair facing a window. The moonlight shining into the room gives it a bluish underwater quality. Just like I saw.
She turns with a smile like she was expecting me, and all the air leaves my lungs.
“You found me.”
She’s thinner than I’ve ever seen her. Heavy bags circle her eyes, but she’s here. Alive.
I start with, “Hi Mom,” because it’s the easiest thing to say before blinking hard to be sure what I’m seeing is real.
“I saw you at the house,” she says, in the same matter-of-fact way she’s always spoken. “And one time when you were underwater. I tried to help.”
I see Iris slip out of the room in my peripheral vision. I hear her release a strangled sob. I’m fighting back a few of my own.
“You did help,” I tell her. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out. But we have to go. We need to get you out of here fast because…”
“I know,” she says. “You’re running out of time.”