“I’m going to roll her over there now.” Benjamin smiles at me, then moves toward the refrigerators.
I can feel my heart in my throat. I never liked death and this is way beyond my comfort zone. He pushes the gurney toward the back of the room alongside a dozen, square rusty doors. Six line the top and six across the bottom. They’re numbered one through twelve.
“They’re all empty except for one, four, and five.” He unbuckles the straps holding Alyssa’s body in place. “Pick one.”
“Um, I don’t know.”
“I can do it if you’re not—”
“Let’s go with nine,” I say.
He turns the handle, opens the door, and pulls a large tray-looking thing out. He moves to the other side and rolls up his sleeves.
“Do you need a minute before I…?”
I don’t wait for him to finish. My hand glides over the black bag as I move toward her head. Taking the zipper between my fingers, I slide it down just enough to reveal her face. She looks peaceful, content. The coloring is off, but her features are relaxed. Grief overpowers me as I push a wisp of her hair away from her cheek.
I lean over and whisper in her ear. “I promise I’ll set you free. I don’t know when, but I’ll get you there. I hope I was the friend you needed me to be.”
I know she isn’t there and she can’t hear me. Maybe those words are to remind myself that I always keep my promises. Either way, she changed my life for the better.
I close the bag, pat the top of her head, and put my arms under her back. Ben and I lift her small, fragile body placing it onto the table. He repositions her and I step back as he slides her body into place, closes the door, and locks the handle.
“Damn it. She was just thirteen years old!” I pound my fist into door three. Anger, more explosive than the sun, surges through me. A sob racks my body as I beat my forehead against the door.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
I’ve haven’t endured this kind of pain since my father died. I forgot how intense the emotions are that flow through you when you lose a loved one.
Ben places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. He hops onto a table resting his head in his hands. I can’t take it anymore, plus we have to get back. Too much time has elapsed since we left. I stumble out of the room trying to hold myself together. Ben jumps from the table and slowly follows me to the rackety box.
Once I’m in the elevator, I push number eight. Nothing happens. I slam the button with my fist and still nothing. Ben pushes the red emergency button and presses his ear to the panel.
“It must be jammed again. The cables aren’t moving at all. Man, I hope it’s not the motor.” He shakes his head. “We just don’t have the money to keep fixing these damn elevators.”
My patience runs thin and I restrain myself from punching the buttons in frustration. I don’t have time for this. I need to get back before Sutton realizes I’m missing.
“Is there another way out of here?” I breathe hard like I just ran a race and am having a hard time catching my breath. I need to get out of this forsaken place. I step out, round the corner, and see “STAIRS basement/8 West.”
Ben follows on my heels, wiping sweat from his forehead and frowning with disapproval. “Please, just wait a few minutes. Let me see if I can get a hold of the repair guys.” He tugs at my wrist in desperation.
I shrug him off despite his attempt to dissuade me. “No, I need to go now!” Ben raises his hand in opposition, about to open his mouth, but I cut him off. “Please don’t make me kick you in the nuts.”
He drops his arm to his side, letting me by.
The door closes behind me with a click, followed by a beep, locking me out of the morgue.
It takes a minute for my aching eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The grated stairs make a light strumming noise as I begin my ascent and my palms stick to the tacky, crumbling paint of the railings. One floor, two floors pass before my slipper gets caught on an edge and I tumble forward onto the landing. Crap. Where is it? My fingers shake while feeling around for it. As I place the worn slipper back onto my foot, it starts.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud. Getting closer each time. A flashlight flicks on. I look upward and instantly adrenaline shoots through my veins.
Through the grated stairs a few flights above me, two silhouettes tap their batons against their hands. My heart beats so rapidly that I can’t hear their voices.
I inch backward until I’m up against the wall. I look for a door, a person, or anything that can help me. Nothing. Sickness washes over me, but there’s no time to be weak. For the moment, I swallow my fear and take off to the basement. I’m leaping down the stairs when they start calling out.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Their raucous laughter bounces off the walls and exhilarates my fear. Don’t panic, don’t panic… too late. I’m panicking.
“Sutton’s on his way!” My voice cracks. I’m not sure they heard me, but I had to try something.
“Oh, no!” More obnoxious laughter echoes down the staircase. “Isn’t the elevator working?” They ask with sarcasm.
As they inch closer, I look over my shoulder, and recognize one of them as the guard from the garage. Dread wraps its fingers around my heart. They’re getting closer and I feel like I’m running through quicksand. I want to go faster, but my legs won’t respond. I grab the railing with my right hand, swinging my legs over the bar, and down the next flight of stairs trying to gain some distance.
“Whore on the loose! Yes! I love this game,” the other guard says. They hop over the railing with ease.
“Help! Someone help me!” I scream even though I know nobody can hear me.
“Who the hell would help you?”
I look up and one flight is all that separates us. As I get closer to the bottom, I notice there’s only one door. You have to be open! Slamming into the door, I turn the handle and bolt through. The stairwell was well lit compared to this. Where to go? Where to hide? At the other end, I spot a window where the sun seeps in. If I can get there, someone might hear me. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, right? I sprint toward it.
Tables, beds, and chairs litter my path to safety. Boxes piled upon boxes jam-pack the walls and floors in every crevice. I glance around, trying to find a backup plan. The window is too far and too high for the amount of time I have left. Rushing, I smack into a folding chair and slam to the ground making a loud clanging noise.
“That was graceful,” he says from behind me.
I didn’t know they were that close. Out of options, I crawl under an empty cardboard box and await the inevitable. I’m trapped and they know it.
“Now it’s a game of hide-and-seek. You’re making this way too enjoyable.”
Banging and crashing noises tell me they’re digging for me. I’m shaking so hard I’m sure they can tell what box I’m hiding under. A guard kicks boxes and throws chairs out of his way. Please don’t kick me. In the midst of the noise, I lose track of the other guard but don’t dare look. It becomes silent. They are going to kill me. It’s over.