the belt too, cinched up the loose trousers.
Ruth stuck her head into the office. “What are you doing?”
Mortimer ignored her, went to the desk and searched the drawers, hoping to find anything useful. Stationery, pens, paper clips, a calculator. In the bottom drawer he found a set of keys on a big ring.
He held them up so Ruth could see, jingled them. “What do these go to?”
“I don’t know. Mother Lola never lets us-”
“Think, Ruth. There has to be a door out of this place.”
She wrung her hands, looked back over her shoulder, then back at Mortimer. “There is this one place-I don’t know if it’s anything. It might not be-”
“Show me.”
Her deep, pleading eyes met his. “You’ll take me with you?” she whispered.
“I’ll take you.”
She nodded, finally deciding, grabbed his hand tight and led him from the office. “There’s not much time.”
They continued down the hall past other offices with doctors’ names on the doors. The farther they went, the more obvious it became that the hall was unused, dusty, almost none of the fluorescent bulbs burning overhead. As far as Mortimer had observed, this was the only portion of the hospital that had fallen into such disrepair.
The hall terminated in almost total darkness. Ruth led Mortimer forward, her hand gripping his almost too tightly, her other hand held out in front of her as her steps slowed near a wall.
Mortimer’s eyes adjusted. Fake potted plants in the corners, covered by years of dust; a cheap oil painting of a sailing ship on choppy waters hung in the middle of the wall. A dead end.
“What is this, Ruth?”
She shrugged, her eyes unreadable in the darkness. “I was hiding in one of the offices. Mother Lola came from this direction.”
“Why were you hiding, Ruth?”
“I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was looking in the offices. I was curious. Nobody is ever supposed to come down here.” She latched suddenly on to Mortimer’s arm. “Please, we have to go. If she catches us here…”
Mortimer shook his arm loose, stepped up to the wall, ran his hand along its surface. Knocked. The material was thin, flimsy. “This is cardboard painted to look like the wall.”
Mortimer shoved, and the wall shook; the ship picture fell, frame glass shattering on the floor. Ruth started, yelped. He pushed the wall again, and the cardboard structure flopped over. Light streamed in, and Mortimer flinched. He pushed on, kicking the wall down until it was flat.
The hallway led to a glass door.
They went to it, pulled. Locked.
Mortimer looked for a place to try the keys he’d found in the doctor’s desk. No luck.
Ruth put her hands flat against the glass, looked through to the other side. “What is it?”
“Some kind of reception area. Or maybe a security checkpoint,” Mortimer said.
There was a counter, a phone and two cheap office chairs in a small waiting area. Half the lights still worked. Mortimer jerked on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
“I bet this is it,” Mortimer said.
“What?”
“The way out. Wait here.” He jogged back down the hall.
“Where are you going?” A hint of alarm in Ruth’s voice.
“I’ll be right back.”
Back in the dead man’s office, Mortimer picked up the fire extinguisher he’d used to bash open the padlock. He hefted it, feeling its weight. Probably he could smash through the glass door with it. He turned to run back down the hall. Paused. He set the extinguisher down, entered the office again.
He stared at the corpse, still clutching the panties, imagined a macabre smile of perverse satisfaction across the mummified face. Mortimer’s gaze shifted downward, came to rest on the plastic I.D. badge hanging from a frayed cord. Mortimer grabbed it quickly, yanked, and it came loose. He ran back down the hall and found Ruth squatting small and quiet against the wall.
It only took Mortimer a second to find the slot. He inserted the plastic I.D. Nothing happened.
“What’s that?” Ruth got to her feet, stood close to Mortimer. “What are you doing?”
Mortimer turned the I.D. card around so the magnetic strip faced the other way. He inserted it again. The slot buzzed sluggishly, a green light flickering and struggling.
“Come on!” He jammed the card in harder, slammed the slot with the heel of his other hand. “Work, you piece of shit!”
The green light buzzed. An audible click from the glass door.
“Get it. Quick!” ordered Mortimer.
Ruth pulled the door open and held it. Mortimer put the I.D. card in his pocket, raced through the door, pulling Ruth after him. “Come on!”
