The next day at work, while I led a new group session with four nonverbal women, Lucas tried to escape again.
We were doing deep-breathing exercises and humming out our breath, or at least I was and maybe one patient. The other three sat in their wheelchairs staring at the walls. Hard to blame them. Staring vacantly at the walls was pretty much what I’d done all night after getting home to a dark house and Dad’s closed bedroom door. He’d already left by the time I got up this morning, but there was a note on the counter next to a paper bag. The note said, ‘Going out for one last run at the Bannockburn. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.’ I opened the bag and found copper-plated drawer handles, polished on the edges and shimmering with deep mahogany and streaks of gold. She would love them, if she ever came back.
I stopped humming and looked around at the group.
‘It doesn’t get better, does it?’ I glanced from face to wrinkled face, searching for any hint of reaction. Their expressions sagged, unresponsive. Only one woman, the one who had been breathing with me, met my eyes. Tears leaked out of hers, but she didn’t look away. She kept breathing, the exaggerated deep inhale that lifted her shoulders, and then hummed the air out in a noise that turned to a lament, her tiny, soprano ode to sorrow. I crouched in front of her wheelchair and held her hands.
‘Maybe coming here was your only way out.’
The tears fell silently off her chin. Her fingers rustled underneath mine like little birds in a cage.
‘Let’s just breathe.’
And that’s how the attending day nurse found me, kneeling in front of a crying woman as we whistled our breath in and out together.
‘Maya! Your boyfriend’s trying to escape again.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
I shot up and out of the ward, shouting at the nurse to help the women back to their rooms. I ran down a flight of stairs and sprinted through a vacant corridor of offices. As I neared ward two a thought almost sent me stumbling.
Whose side was I on?
The badge slapping against my thigh was a Congdon badge. I was a Congdon employee, here to rehabilitate and protect patients, especially from themselves.
But everything in me wanted to find Lucas and keep running.
Just as the realization hit, two orderlies rushed out of another stairwell and the three of us barreled through the door into the high security men’s ward. A crowd of people had gathered at the far end of the ward near an emergency exit, crushing any impulse I had to do something crazy. As I slowed to a walk, I noticed nurses kneeling in the center of the huddle and a surge of fear shot through my chest.
‘What happened?’ I elbowed my way to the front. ‘Who’s hurt?’
‘I believe that would be me.’ Blood covered the side of Dr Mehta’s head, dripping from a place in her hair where one of the nurses applied a compress.
I scanned the bodies, searching for any sign of Lucas.
‘Get out of here, Maya.’
‘But . . .’ My attention snapped back to Dr Mehta.
‘You don’t have clearance for this ward. Go.’
The rest of them shifted uncomfortably, glancing at me then away. The two orderlies who’d arrived with me worked their way through the crowd to the emergency exit. Had Lucas gotten that far? Was he gone? I took a step toward the exit, but Dr Mehta’s look stopped me. Even with blood streaks smeared over her face, sprawled in the middle of the linoleum floor, she still managed to impart that shrinking, piercing stare. Like she knew exactly what I’d been thinking.
I swallowed and nodded, withdrawing from the group, and walked slowly back down the hall.
After my shift ended, I pretended my sprained ankle was hurting again and went to the medical ward where the gossipy nurses reigned. One of them set me up on a bed and examined the bone while the others filled us in, peppering the story with knowing glances in my direction. By now, everyone had heard about the incident on the boat and my demotion.
‘According to Stan, all he would say during his session was, I have to go find my father.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Nope. Totally silent after that, wouldn’t answer any questions about where his father is so other people could, like, actually go look for him. Only glared at Dr Mehta and stared out the window. He won’t even talk to Carol when she brings him meals now, and you know he used to ask her about . . . other people . . . a lot.’
Nurse Valerie, the information queen, pointedly ignored me as she parted with this tidbit. I kept my expression neutral, focusing on the narrow bone boxed in one of the other nurse’s hands.
‘So when Dr Mehta tries to give him a book, the kid bashes Stan over the head with it and takes Dr Mehta hostage.’
The other nurse wasn’t even pretending to examine me anymore. She gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.
‘He got a lot farther without this little firecracker’ – Nurse Valerie nodded toward me – ‘around to stop him. He handcuffed Stan to a table, took his badge, and forced Dr Mehta through the ward to that emergency exit that leads out to the parking lot, but the nurse’s station saw him right away and the guards met him at the door. He threw – literally threw – Dr Mehta at them and took off. Fell down a flight of stairs and kept going, until three of them tackled him at the main door.’
I closed my eyes. The guilt doubled and redoubled as I sat on the hospital bed, oblivious to the continued chatter of the nurses around me.
‘Where is he now?’ I asked, opening my eyes to look around. ‘Doesn’t he need medical treatment?’
‘Dr Mehta wouldn’t let him be treated here.’ The nurse who was wrapping my perfectly healthy ankle replied, glancing up with a smug look, like she thought it was obvious I’d come to the ward to see him.
Nurse Valerie piped back up. ‘I’ve been given clearance to visit him three times a day in his isolation room – where he is in full restraints, mind you – to administer pain medication and check for infection and swelling. That is, until I leave for my Cancun trip.’
Her voice turned gloating and one of the other nurses groaned. ‘Do you have to rub it in?’
Nurse Valerie glanced at me and seemed to soften a fraction, answering the unspoken question.
‘No serious injuries this time. His right side is going to look like a burger patty, but luckily the shoulder didn’t get any more damage. I put it in another sling just as a precaution. Don’t worry,’ she patted my bandaged ankle. ‘Sounds like that kid’s got stamina. But you’d know better than us, right?’
The other nurses snorted, ducking their heads. I felt my face flush as I swung my legs around and put my weight gingerly on the ‘bad’ ankle, shrugging into my coat.
‘He’s only on pain meds?’
She nodded as she turned away. ‘Tylenol 3, three times a day.’
I thanked them for the wrap and pretended to favor the leg as I left the ward.
Everyone knew the definition of insanity. Lucas had tried to escape from Congdon three times now. Three episodes of the same behavior, expecting different results. How many more attempts would it take, how many crawling days and nights in isolation, how many times could he beat his head against the wall before his mind started to crack? Before he became what everyone thought he already was?
A string of storms raced across Superior and slammed into Duluth over the next few days, bringing blinding lake-effect snow squalls that buried the city, while only a few miles west the ground remained brown and bare. Dr Mehta hadn’t gotten any updates from the Forest Service rangers and I could tell she was getting tired of me asking. I hibernated in the house after work, spending half my nights on the Internet. The backlash against the protesters who’d chased us down at Twin Ponds had helped some new voices rise on social media, people calling for Lucas’s privacy, to let the system help him and focus public efforts on finding Josiah instead. I looked up Boundary Waters maps, sometimes scrolling the satellite images to the tiny break in the green that showed the roof of my mother’s cabin. Other nights I googled everything I could find on Heather Price: her life, the scant details of her death. A drug addict’s death, apparently, was even less noteworthy than a mental health patient’s. Society turned away, pretended the body had never been a person. No one demanded to know how she’d gotten the blow to her head. I found a small, archived post on the website of the dentist office where she’d worked, offering the usual thoughts and prayers to a family who didn’t seem to exist, and the only person who might know more had disappeared from the known world.
After half a week, the snow stopped and the gales began tossing it around the city, whipping drifts of white over the streets, tearing at anyone who braved the cold. I left work one day and the wind picked up the tails of my jacket, invaded my hood, and froze my earrings the second I muscled open the security door. I jogged toward the parking lot, intent only on getting to my car and starting the heater, before stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
Lucas, two orderlies, and Nurse Valerie were walking in the side yard near the therapy garden. Lucas was restrained in a full straitjacket with an orderly holding each arm. His head listed to one side and he stared dully at the flakes whipping along the ground. Even from twenty yards away it was obvious he was drugged. His movements were sluggish and awkward, reeking of a massive dose of some life-sucking, behavior-correcting prescription cocktail. It looked like Nurse Valerie was trying to hurry them back inside, but Lucas could barely put one foot in front of the other.
Until he saw me.
His eyes wandered over the sidewalk and roamed up my body like I was just another static feature in the landscape. A moment passed when it didn’t even seem like he recognized me until he blinked and jerked upright.
Maya. I saw his mouth form my name even though no sound came out. He lurched forward, throwing his handlers off balance, and tried to close the distance between us. Confused by his sudden mood change, Valerie put a hand out to steady him before she turned and saw who he was trying to reach. She snapped back around and said something to the orderlies, who abruptly stopped walking and grabbed Lucas, preventing him from moving. Lucas struggled, but he was no match for the combination of the straitjacket, two burly orderlies, and whatever chemicals they’d pumped into him. Thrashing in place, he mouthed my name until he finally managed to work the ragged sound out of his throat, and he reached me the only way he could.
‘Maya. Help, Maya. Maya, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Tears started to run down his face. ‘Don’t leave me here. Please, Maya. Please.’
Nurse Valerie stepped in front of Lucas, blocking him from my sight, and gestured to the parking lot.
‘Go on. Dr Mehta’s orders state that he can’t have any contact with you.’
I couldn’t move, even as the wind slapped my cheeks and stung needles into my fingers. I forgot where I’d been going. Lucas dragged one of the orderlies a step forward, bumping into Valerie.
‘Go!’ She pointed to the cars, trying to keep her hood from flying off with her other hand. ‘We’re going to freeze out here if we don’t blow away first.’
It took strength I didn’t even know I possessed to walk toward the parking lot. Lucas’s voice grew weaker and weaker before dying away in the wind, and I didn’t know if he stopped calling my name because the group had gone inside or because he’d lost all hope. I didn’t turn around to check.
By the time I climbed inside my car, I was shaking. Snowflakes clung to the ends of my hair and my hands were red and raw. I stared at Congdon’s brick walls and barred windows rising like a fortress out of the angry, white blur of the gales, and everything became suddenly clear. As clear as a sun-soaked sky over the lake. As clear as a bag of carefully chosen hardware. As clear as the layers of an agate, sliced and gleaming in my mother’s hand.
I knew what I had to do. I had to rescue Lucas Blackthorn.