Dr. Goodman leaps onto a table and calls for attention. When that doesn’t work, Nurse Dummel blows a whistle. Dr. Goodman frowns a little. “Thank you, Ms. Dummel. Ladies and gentlemen, as you have probably already surmised, the power has gone out.” Some of the patients cheer while others begin to cry. “I’d like for everyone to return to their rooms. Techs will be patrolling the hallways along with other staff. I know the storm can make some of you feel anxious. Please see a nurse or tech if you’d like something to help you sleep. That is all.”
Dr. Goodman jumps down from the table, and techs and nurses begin breaking patients into groups to be escorted back to their rooms.
Donny spots me. “Yo, Alice,” he says, jerking his head for me to come with him. As we make our way out of the cafeteria I look for Chase again, but he’s lost in the sea of patients. When I get back to my room, I huddle under the covers. Outside, the storm has quieted. The thunder and lightning have receded. Now a heavy rain falls. I count the drops, hoping for sleep and trying to forget about Chase.
A shrill, wicked laugh filters through my dreams. Cellie’s laugh. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it, but it’s not the kind of sound you forget. She laughs again, close to my ear, so close I can feel her breath and her cheek grazing mine. You’ve been a bad sister, Alice. I close my eyes tighter and fight against the dream. There’s the distinct sound of matches being struck, and the smell of sulfur permeates the air. I toss and turn, throw the covers off of me. I’m hot. I wish I had taken off my jeans before going to bed. I’m suffocating. I can’t breathe. Little tendrils of smoke are sucked into my windpipe, and it feels as if knobby fingers are crushing me from within. I come awake in an instant, faster than you can snap your fingers or say abracadabra. The room is filled with smoke. Like an apparition, Cellie slips out the door and slams it behind her.
My body spasms and I cough violently, trying to exorcise the black smoke. I try to breathe in, but all I get is more black air that tastes of hot ash and feels heavy in my lungs. The smoke thickens, and it’s hard to see. I scramble out of bed, arms outstretched, trying to feel my way out.
There’s light, a haunting orange glow that I recognize all too well. Flames. They’re suspended in the smoke on top of my dresser. My paper zoo, which I lovingly crafted, folded with my own two hands, is burning.
“No,” I choke out. For some reason this seems so much worse than Chase’s treachery. Cellie has always known how to cut the deepest. I can’t stand to watch them burn, to watch another thing I love turn to ash, wither away under Cellie’s wicked hands. I slap my open palms against a burning lion, against a smoldering monkey—trying to extinguish the flames. They bite into my hands and my skin starts to blister, but I can’t stop. I keep going, trying to save as many animals as I can. I cough and sputter and snuff out the flames. But they jump, reach out, and connect with one another. I’m not fast enough. I can’t save all the animals. Maybe just one then. Just one more.
The smoke thickens, turns a darker shade of gray, and billows up to the ceiling. The smoke alarm goes off. I don’t notice the door opening beside me or the flood of technicians. They grab me, but I clutch at the dresser, scraping my nails against the wood, bloodying my fingertips as I am pulled away. I kick. I scream. My voice is raw and hoarse from the smoke.
“One more,” I say. “I want to save one more.” Patients pour out of their rooms and stand there, stunned. At last the jellyfish are still.
Another door opens, and I am shoved into a dark room. I land on my knees, white padding softening the blow. A whimper escapes my lips and then a word that sounds like a jangled combination of no and please. I lie on my side and bring my knees up to my chest. Something crinkles in my hand. It’s dark in the Quiet Room, but I trace the shape with my fingers. An animal. I saved one. It’s the butterfly I made with Chase during group therapy. When I told him all about butterflies, how fragile they are, but how they survive with clever camouflage. When he said he liked listening to me talk. God, that hurts. I press the butterfly to my chest. I squished it while I was trying to save it. Now it’s all I have, a butterfly with two ripped wings.
Nobody comes for what feels like hours. I don’t even think I’m being monitored. I’m not safe in here, in the Quiet Room. Cellie’s found me. She’s come. I need to get to her before she finds me again. It’s only a matter of time. I was the hunter. Now I’m the hunted. She must have escaped the D ward when the power went out. Probably tried the same thing I did, slipping out through an emergency exit. But she succeeded where I failed.
The door opens, and a tiny crack of light washes over the white room. The power must have come back on while I was stuck in the dark. I put my hand over my eyes and recoil. The person comes in and lets the door close behind her. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding like a rabbit. I back into the corner and press myself into it. It’s Cellie. I’m sure.
The person speaks, and it is the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard. “Alice.”
“Chase!” I hurl myself into his body. He doesn’t expect this. His breath hitches and he lets out a little oomph, but he catches me all the same, wrapping me up in his embrace. I dig my cheek into his shoulder. “Cellie’s here. She got out of the D ward. I don’t know how.”
“Shhh.” He rubs circles into my back.
“She set a fire.” I back away from him and open my palm, showing him the crumpled butterfly, but that’s stupid because he can’t see it in the dark. “She lit my zoo on fire. I saved a butterfly.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry.” He brings me in for another hug and holds me even tighter. “This is all my fault. I didn’t mean any of it, any of what I said. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He pushes me away from him and brings his hands to rest lightly on my shoulders.
“It’s not safe. I need to get out of here.” I step away from him. “I need to find her before she finds me again.” She wouldn’t have gone back to the D ward. There’s only one place on this godforsaken island where she would feel safe. The only place she thinks I wouldn’t dare go. I wrap my fingers around the card in Chase’s hand. “I think I know where she’s gone. But I’ll need your keycard.” It’s the last favor I’ll ask of him.
“I don’t think you should go alone.” His voice is pinched with worry. “I’ll go with you.”
What is he thinking? He’s offering to go with me? He knows now, since our fight, what I’m planning. If I let him help me, he’ll be an accomplice. Does he know? Does he understand the consequences? “Are you sure, Chase?” I ask. “You don’t have to help me. I can do this on my own.”
He finds me again in the dark, runs his hand over my head, catching some of my jagged locks in his fingertips, and for a moment his touch feels so much like the phantom hand of Jason. “I know what I’m doing, Alice. I know what this means. I said I would help you, and I will.” His voice is full of resignation. “I think it’s the only way.”
“It’s me or her,” I whisper.
“It’ll be you,” he says, so sure, so confident. “I promise I’ll make sure you come out okay. I won’t lose you.”
He takes my hand and using the keycard, he opens the door, just a crack. He takes a deep breath, determines that the coast is clear. Then we’re running. I take the lead. Through the hall, to the emergency exit, and down a zigzag of stairs. The door at the bottom of the stairs bangs open and we’re outside.
As we sprint across the grass toward the barbed-wire fence, I know finally what it is that I want. I want what Cellie has done to me to be done to her. I want her to feel the sting of lost love, the icy fear of being hunted. I’m going to cut her heart out.
…
FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALICE MONROE
Jason and I burst through the visitor room emergency exit. All at once alarms blared and lights flashed. We took the stairs two at a time. Twice I stumbled, but Jason caught me. When we got to the door leading to the outside, we paused.
“No going back,” he said.
“No going back,” I repeated.
Together we opened the door to the outside. Our eyes widened against the sudden darkness. All around us alarms continued to shriek, but the searchlights hadn’t been turned on yet. For a moment we were sheltered in the safety of the night. Earlier that day a heavy rain had fallen, and the grass we sprinted across was muddy and sodden. It felt like I was running through sand, my legs and lungs burning with the exertion, but Jason kept a tight hold on my hand, pulling me forward almost painfully. Shouts rang out in the distance, techs calling my name, begging me to stop. Earlier, Jason had cut a hole in the barbed-wire fence that surrounded the hospital. He ducked through it.
“C’mon, Allie,” Jason yelled. We approached the edge of the forest and kept running. Through the brush and trees we went. Jason did his best to shield me, but branches whipped at my face and cut up my arms.
It felt like we’d been running forever by the time we made it to the edge of the lake, but time moves differently in a dark forest, and it had probably been only minutes. Jason crashed into the water, distorting the reflection of the moon that played across its mirrored surface. He let go of my hand and dived in. As I plunged into the icy water, I had to stifle the urge to cry out. Cold gripped my spine and something slithered against my legs. Jason called to me, treading water in the middle of the lake. I swam toward him, my body weighed down by terror. As soon as I closed the distance between us, he began to swim again, and I followed in his wake.
Jason gave me a frantic kiss as we stumbled from the water. We looked over our shoulders and across the lake, to the other side of the shore, where the techs had paused. Their bright flashlights were swallowed up by the black water, unable to search us out. We were lost to them and finally free. Jason and me.
We walked, our bodies unwilling to do anything but move sluggishly. The temperature dropped and my teeth chattered. Suddenly I was in my grandfather’s house again, struggling to stay warm and eating bits of cake. A wave of panic washed over me, and I fell to my knees, unable to go on. It felt as if I’d never be warm again.
Jason was beside me in an instant. “C’mon, baby.” He put his arm around my waist and hauled me up. “It’s not that much farther.”
Together we made it to an old abandoned barn, where Jason had stowed clean clothes and a gas lamp the day before. We would spend the night there.
Jason led me to a rickety ladder, and I climbed up into the hayloft. It smelled like horses and old machines. While I changed clothes, Jason made our bed out of hay and a wool blanket. We didn’t light the gas lamp. We were afraid its glow would act like a beacon. Instead we let a sliver of moonlight guide our movements, and soon we lay together. Jason’s body was slick with lake water and sweat. He took off his shirt and I traced the line of his tattoos. The unicorn. The set of trees. The letters reading God’s Will. When he pulled my shirt off and asked, “Do you want to?” I didn’t hesitate.
He blew into his hands, warming them, and crushed his mouth to mine. He was desperate that night. I loved him so much then that it exploded out of my skin and manifested as a physical need—a need to be close, as close to him as possible. When Jason moved in me, it felt as if the world was moving, too, perfectly in sync with his body above mine. When it was done, he wrapped me up in a dry T-shirt, kissing my stomach as he did. Then he kissed my eyelids, my collarbone, and the skin right above my pounding heart.
That night I spread all my dreams at his feet, wove them into the hay and the wool blanket and through the wooden slats of the old barn that would burn so easily.
CHAPTER
22
Escape
CHASE AND I RACE TOWARD THE SKYLINE, TOWARD THE HORIZON, where the stars melt into the orange of sunrise. We pass the D ward, the hole in the gate. The wind whips through my hair, makes it fly everywhere, so it’s hard to see. There’s the cry of an alarm in the distance. Huge spotlights break the dawn and slash across the lawn, seeking our bodies.
I allow myself one moment to look at the building, the worn façade and blacked-out windows. Chase stops behind me.
“Alice, you okay?” he asks, and places his hand in mine.
I nod and he gives my fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze as we start to run again. At first my legs are sluggish, unwilling to do what my brain orders them. Run. Fast. Run. Quick. And I know it’s not just the physical exertion that’s crippling me; it’s fear. Fear of what we’ll find. Fear for Chase. Fear of Cellie. It all jumbles up inside of me, spiking my adrenaline. We come to the barbed-wire fence. The hole Jason had cut has been patched. Our only choice is to climb and risk punctured skin. I put my foot through the chainlink and hoist myself over. In my haste I forget that the coiled wire is spiked, and I grab onto it. I let out a cry of pain as the barbs slice into my burned hands. I tumble to the other side. Chase is at my heels. He’s managed to dodge the barbed wire. I wipe my bloody palms on my jeans.
Chase gives me a once-over, his face etched with concern. “Your hands okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. I look at my hands. They’re still bleeding, but not too much. Not nearly enough to stop me. A spotlight crosses the ground inches from us. “Still with me?” I ask him. It’s too late for me to turn back, but it’s not too late for him. I want to give him an out, but he doesn’t take it.
“I’m with you, Alice.”
Then we’re running again. The dense forest slows our motions, and it feels as if we’ve been going for hours, even though I know it’s been only minutes. The hospital alarms fade in the distance, and the only sounds we hear are the dry twigs snapping underfoot and the heaviness of our breaths, but this doesn’t mean we aren’t being followed. When we come to the lake I stop, cold and dead on my feet.
Chase bends and braces his hands on his knees. “Why’d you stop?”
I give a jerky nod to the other side of the lake, where a field stretches and a crumbled, charred ruin of a barn rises from the ground like a tombstone. “I think that’s where she went,” I tell him.
“Why there?” he asks in disbelief. “Is that where—”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “It’s where Jason died.”
“You don’t have to do this, Alice.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks at the ground. “I understand if you want to go back.”
My eyes flutter shut and I walk backwards into the past. It’s like I’m watching a movie on rewind. Go on, Alice. You have to do this. “No. She’s there. She knows this is the only place I wouldn’t go. She thinks she’s safe there. This is my only chance.”
Before Chase can reply, before I can even see his reaction, I dive into the lake. The icy water shoots a million tiny needles into my skin. The only thing to do is swim, swim to keep warm, swim to stay alive.
I hear the splash of Chase’s body hitting the water behind me. He catches up easily, and when he does, we don’t say anything. We’re too focused on keeping our breaths even, our strokes steady. Finally, mercifully, we come to a place where our feet can touch the rocky bottom. Then we walk, staggering like zombies to the shore. Chase takes my hand, and this time he laces his fingers through mine. We run together, side by side, until the barn gets closer and we can smell its charred carcass. Dew rises from the tall grass, a vapor I almost mistake for smoke, but the building isn’t burning. Not anymore. Even if Cellie tried to set it on fire again, I don’t think there’s enough of it left to burn.
When Jason and I ran here, there was a huge sliding door that he had to push open with all his might. Now the opening is just a big, gaping hole.
I step over the threshold, my heart hammering in my chest. The morning sun filters through the broken and uneven walls, giving the barn a light, ethereal glow. There’s a small, childlike laugh behind me. Cellie. I whirl around, but it’s only Chase, his shadow cast over me. Shit, baby. I’m burning up. It’s Jason’s voice behind me now. I spin around again.
“What is it, Alice?” Chase asks.
Cellie laughs. The noise ricochets off the walls, zooms in a circl
e. I put my hands over my ears, shake my head. Little droplets of icy lake water spill everywhere. I shiver but not from the outside. Somewhere deep inside me a cold memory is cracking open. “This can’t be right,” I say, mostly to myself. The barn is empty. Frantically I run farther into the barn until I’m at the ladder leading to the hayloft. I climb it. Chase is behind me. I look around the loft. Cellie’s not here. I turn to Chase. “But the fire in my room . . .”
I thought for sure she’d be here.
His eyes soften with sympathy. “There wasn’t a fire, Alice. You were screaming and crying, and they couldn’t get you to calm down, so they put you in the Quiet Room.”
I glance at my hands and examine my palms. They’re not blistered, not even pink. There are only the scrapes from the barbed wire and the healed burn—no fresh blisters or scars. “I don’t understand,” I say to myself, to the barn, to Chase.
“I think you do,” he says quietly.
“Cellie’s not here.”
“You’re wrong.” He takes a deep breath. “I think Cellie is here.”
CHAPTER
23
The Perfect Plan
SOMEWHERE IN THE DISTANCE, A VOICE CALLS ME. I can’t tell if this is a memory or if it’s happening right now.
Cellie stands above me, a slow, quizzical smile building on her lips. She seems sad, fragile.
“Cellie?” I reach out to touch her, but my fingers slice through the air. Her face is only smoke, white smoke that shimmers in the moonlight. I roll onto my knees, and there she is again, standing at the top of the ladder that connects the hayloft to the ground floor. She throws her head back and laughs like we did when we were children, when we’d play all day until we were sticky with sweat and our cheeks smelled of the summer sun. I crawl toward her.