Seventy-six

The wires kept slipping out of her fingers. It was the blood. It was everywhere, welling and dripping from where her wrists had been cut and rubbed raw by the wire that bound them together. Ellie kept trying, even though she’d given up hope.

She fit the top scrap of wire into the keyhole, working it under the tumblers while the bottom scrap worked its way past them. It was an arduous process, one she had neither the time nor the dexterity for. It’d taken her a few minutes to find the paper clip and then bend and work it into two separate pieces. Her fingers were starting to cramp, having been pinched together for so long.

Her head felt like it had been split open. It throbbed with every bump and lift she made against the lock. She worked the top wire up and down a bit, slipping it past another tumbler.

Up and down. Not jiggling. Slow and easy. That was how Nulo taught her to do it, using paper clips to pick old padlocks he’d found in the bed of his uncle’s truck, but that was a long time ago. They’d been kids then …

Mark. He wanted her to call him Mark now.

The top wire slipped under the last tumbler and she lifted, allowing the bottom wire to push forward. Holding her breath, Ellie turned the lock inside the handle.

The door swung free, opening onto a dimly lit hallway. She wasn’t blind after all. She could see shapes and shadows but her vision was blurry, wavering, like she’d opened her eyes under water.

Stepping forward, Ellie looked to her right. Stretched in front of her was a long corridor, dotted haphazardly with doors. All of them were shut.

Despite the warning ringing in her head, Ellie lurched across the hall. This door was locked too. Pressing her ear against it, she listened. Nothing but silence.

She shuffled forward, shoulder dragging against the wall as she went to keep herself upright. The floor pitched and rolled under her feet, like the deck of a ship. Her head throbbed, the pulse of it slamming in her ears, keeping time with her heart. Ahead of her was another door. This one was cracked open, brighter light spilling into the hallway.

The way out.

Reaching the door, she nudged it open. Widening the crack with a bump of her shoulder, she peered inside. The room was long and narrow. Windowless, its only source of light was one of those portable shop lights hanging from a hook set in the ceiling. An extension cord fed it power, a bright orange snake that wound up the wall to disappear through a hole drilled near the ceiling. At the far end of the room was an IV pole standing sentry over an empty hospital bed. Directly in front of her was a privacy screen.

She lurched forward and reached for the screen, but it clattered over, folding in on itself before hitting the floor. She cringed at the noise. Squeezed her eyes closed, awaiting discovery, but she heard no one.

She opened her eyes. Blood. Cast-off patterns crisscrossing along the walls. Gravitational splatters surrounding the …

“What is that?” She breathed it out loud, shaking her head, trying to find her bearings.

It took her a few seconds to understand what was in front of her. She stepped forward, drawn closer by the horror of what she was seeing. It was a breeding stand, stained with blood and … other things.

“They shit and piss themselves sometimes while I’m doing it. Rachel did.”

She froze, bound hands clasped together in what felt like prayer. The voice behind her came from the open doorway.

“She screamed and cried. Begged me to stop …” He stepped into the room, his shadow swaying in the light that spilled across the floor in front of her. “She didn’t get it—what I was trying to do for her. None of them did.”

Stay calm, draw him closer, she counseled herself. Find an opportunity. “And what’s that?” she said softly. “What were you trying to do?”

“What was I …” He let out an impatient huff. “I gave them a chance to deserve what they’d been given. I gave them a chance to become,” he said, moving closer. “The same chance I’m giving you now.”

Wait …

Her fingers laced around themselves, clenched tight. “Become what?”

“A saint. Like my mother,” he said, his tone hushed in reverence. “She sacrificed her life for mine. She was a miracle and she gave that miracle to me.”

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the shadow that swayed around her feet. “You’re sick.”

“I’m sick?” He laughed at her. “You have no idea what I am, Elena.”

“Then tell me,” she said softly, pulling him closer. “Explain it to me. Make me understand.”

Wait …

“I’m a miracle—just like you.” He was standing over her now, close enough to touch. “It was supposed to be you that night. Rachel was going to get it too, but it was you he wanted,” he said quietly, his breath brushing against her nape. “He had such plans for you, Elena, but God intervened. He saved you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her hands twisted, fingers clenched together. “What did he save me for?”

“He saved you for me.”

Now!

She spun, exploding back, giving her arms room to swing up and out. Her fisted hands caught him under his chin, the force of them crashing his teeth together, snapping his head back even as he fell.

He went down hard, skull bouncing off the concrete floor he’d been standing on just seconds before. He was stunned but still conscious, face painted bright red with blood. “Oh, Elena,” he said, laughter bubbling up behind bloody teeth. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”