Incarceration

Chapter Thirteen

The next night, when the lights in the hospital turn off, my eyes flicker open. I strategically position myself so that I have a clear view of the door. I'll be ready when Wyatt comes. I've been thinking about plans endlessly and have come to the conclusion that, basically, I have absolutely no idea how to escape.

I've used the ducts before, an antiquated way of escaping that was never given a second thought. But now, after my last attempt, I imagine that security will be tighter. I rack my brains, but I can't come up with any way to escape. I used to pride myself in my ability to know the exit routes, but now I'm trapped. Completely trapped. I always assumed that if I wanted to escape I could, but now that I need to, my mind is a barren desert.

I continue to wait, but there is still no sign of Wyatt. It occurs to me that he may be so brutally injured from that day's testing, he might not be able to walk to my room. If he doesn't come in the next twenty minutes, I decide I'll sneak into the hallway—chances are, if he isn't showing, he needs my help.

It's only a couple more minutes until I hear a pounding at my door. It's not a soft, quiet knock like the night before, but rather fast and panicked. I throw the sheets off and stagger to the door, flinging it open. He plows through, almost knocking me over on the way in, out of breath and shaking.

"Hide me."

"What? Wyatt, what's happening?"

"Hide me!"

I look around at the practically empty room then back to Wyatt, shaking and scared. "Come here." I grab Wyatt's hand and pull him to the far side of the room and then draw the curtain out so it blocks him from the view of the door.

"This is it?"

Footsteps thunder down the hall, doors opening and slamming.

"That's all that's here," I hiss, darting back to my bed and pulling the sheets up just in time to see a flashlight scan through the room, the heads of two guards peering through the door. I shut my eyes and lie as still as I can, praying that they wouldn't be able to see Wyatt through the curtain.

Once the light disappears, I let out a sigh of relief and roll out of bed. Throwing back the curtain to stare at Wyatt.

"What the heck is happening?" I demand.

"I, uh . . ."

"Wyatt!"
"I couldn't take it anymore. I escaped."

My heart stops.

"No," I say. "No. No. No. Wyatt, no, you didn't!"

"I'm sorry. I know," Wyatt says, looking up at me worriedly.

"We didn't plan for this. Wyatt, you didn't escape anything! We don't have a way out yet."

"I know. I know. I know."

Grabbing his arm, I pull him to his feet. "Damn it, Wyatt. What are we going to do? We're not ready!"

"There has to be somewhere in this prison you can hide me. Somewhere they don't look."

"Wyatt, they look everywhere! This is a prison! And since you're missing, they're going to do a massive search."

"Then maybe there's somewhere I can blend in?"

I rack my brain. Somewhere he can blend in. Somewhere he can blend in.

"I have an idea," I say slowly, "but it's going to really suck for you."

"Anything."