The hallway doesn’t remind me of a hospital at all. It reminds me of a schoolhouse with classrooms on one side and a row of windows on the other side that point towards the bush. It even smells like a schoolhouse from of cheap cleaning material for the floors, chalk, stuffy books, and sweaty gym clothes.
It’s strange that they left me without somebody watching. That means they must believe whatever they injected was powerful enough to keep me sedated. The fact they haven’t given me another injection means that they want me to wake up. I might not have much time until they come looking for me. I have to act quickly.
My first task is to find Scottie. What I’m going to do with him if he is still unconscious, I don’t know. I know one thing. I can’t leave him here. It’s not safe for either of us. These people are as crazy as bat shit.
I pass one door after the other named preparation room number ONE all the way up to number SIX. I tried each door but they were all locked. Whatever preparation room means, I’m not going to find out now. Then there is an ECG room, a therapy room, and a gym. I try the therapy room. It’s locked.
Suddenly I hear voices are coming in my direction. My heart beats right up in my throat. Where can I hide? There is one room left and then it’s the end of the hallway. Further ahead is the door to the outside and that’s it.
The next door is open. I can’t believe my luck and slip in. It seems to be an office. Not a very large one, but it has a large desk with a modern Apple computer. Bookshelves cover the three-yard long sidewall, and along the opposite wall is a coffee table with two comfortable chairs and a large plant. Above them on the wall is a large-scale map of Gateways.
I stand behind the door listening to the people approaching. Short of panicking, I’m looking around for a place to hide but there is nothing here, except crawling under the office desk. Through the keyhole I see two middle-aged men and two women bringing in equipment that looks like it’s destined for the gym.
By the time the people reach the office, my anxiety peaks but goes down again the moment they walk past. Never have I felt more relieved as now. I leave my refuge behind the door and study the map on the wall. Where would be the logical place to find Scottie? I’ve identified the building I’m in, but the rest is confusing. So many buildings to remember.
Perhaps there’s a copy of the map is on the computer? I take a seat at the desk and fire up the MacBook. My enthusiasm gets a damping when the screen is asking for the password. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
I try ‘Gateway’ and ‘Sebastian’. Raymond Feldman is just the kind of guy who would be conceited enough to use such easy names. I don’t think he ever expects someone to come uninvited into his office.
After trying several combinations, I admit I’m wrong. I’m short of giving up when I see a sticker with a number and letter combination on the side of the computer screen. I punch the combination in and can’t believe it works. I don’t have the nerve to search through the files. I click on the document folder and back it up to my personal Google drive. One document called Gateway Stakeholders Report catches my interest.
I open it and my breath hitches. This would be all the police need to shut this whole organization down. I search for the email of the police station in Wellington and send the file through with a brief note from me addressed to Officer Burke, who’d been so helpful during my trial.
When I close the computer my head explodes in pain.
Everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ama: 24 March 2017, Gateway
Raymond has his hands around Lilly’s throat and his eyes look wild as if he’s going to explode at any moment. She’s gone, of course. The blow over the head has knocked her unconscious. I had to come back from the sanctuary and make sure everyone is safe. So did the kids. They are alarmed, to say the least, and I’ve ordered everyone back to the tree house. Nothing can come from willy-nilly-panicking.
He doesn’t realize we’ve switched. I doubt he would even if we had a number girl prancing in front of him with a sign We have switched. He would probably think it’s a cheap party trick.
He slams a contract onto the desk and shoves it in front of me to sign. He grabs my hair and pulls my head down to the papers.
“Sign.”
In no mood to hide my disgust, I stare at him. A quick lesson in manners would not go to waste, I guess. None of my children would get away with behavior like this.
“This is no way to treat a woman. I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from rough-handling me. Didn’t your mother teach you that a little courtesy goes a long way?”
Now, that was the wrong thing to say, obviously, because he pulls my hair again and it hurts like hell. His eyes turn steely and his voice takes on the menacing, evil tone.
“Now listen, and listen carefully. You will sign this. We are not playing games. If you don’t sign … well … you don’t want to find out. Get what I’m saying?”
He pulls my chin up so I have to look at him and to be honest, I don’t like what I’m seeing. Then he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes.
It’s amazing what you think when you are at
