Page 216 of On a Fault Line

Through the glass window, I see the lights from the hallway shut off, realizing that we’ve officially hit the lights-out target time. It’s either that or the power source got compromised with the storm and the backup generator is taking some time to kick on.

I try my nightstand lamp, but it doesn’t work.

I need to sleep. My mind is playing tricks on me, and maybe rest will fix this feeling of being in a limbo state.

Placing my hand under my pillow, I feel the rustle of a piece of paper underneath it. Lifting it up, I discover a note with what appears to be a handwritten word on it, but I can’t make it out in the darkness of the room.

The lights in the hallway flicker like a strobe light.

Getting up from the bed, I move toward the door and my only real light source at the moment. It’s locked as expected for this facility, but Dr. Radinsky should be here soon. She’ll know how to help me.

Placing the paper near the window, I allow the flickering light to illuminate the message.

No.

In black marker, as clear as can be, I see the one-word message.

ESCAPEE.

Why is this here?

Then I think back to all of the other cryptic notes that have been sent to me.

One.

Two.

Three.

I’m an…

And putting them all together, I have that epiphany and finally realize they spell out one big, premeditated message: One, two, three, I’m an escapee.

Fuck.

Mark Tanner is free. He is on the loose.

Dammit.

And I’m sure he is coming for me. Feeling the blood drain out of my face, I crumble up the piece of paper and throw it over to where the wastebasket is, missing the toss and watching the ball roll onto the cold tiled floor in the shadowy flicker of the lights.

Something is wrong…

Instinctively reaching for my phone, I realize that I dropped it off at the front desk, as per protocol. It’s in the little plastic bin stored away for safekeeping.

The battery is drained anyway so it wouldn’t be any use, even if I had it in my possession.

Moving back to the window leading to the outside, I spot the trench-coated man now on the sidewalk.

He’s real.

I can feel it.

He’s not a figment of my imagination.

And he’s coming for me.

I am no longer in a facility that can help me. I’m in a place where I’m going to die.

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