Page 80 of Ward D
So according to Gabby, who spent a week working with him, Dr. Beck is an old man. And if the attending physician on this unit is an old man, thenwho the hell was just with me in this room?
And then the bar on my phone disappears.
53
Iam in even worse trouble than I thought.
When Cameron and I first arrived at Ward D, a man in his thirties wearing scrubs and a white coat introduced himself as Dr. Richard Beck, which was also embroidered on his coat. He wasn’t wearing an ID badge, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. There was no reason to think he was anyone other than Dr. Beck. And it was confirmed by the nurse, Ramona.
Dr. Beck is like eighty years old!
Gabby had no reason to lie. It’s very clear now that the man I have been addressing as the attending psychiatrist on the unit is not Dr. Beck. And then, of course, there’s the question of where the real Dr. Beck is. Because he was the assigned psychiatrist on the call schedule. So at some point, was he ever here?
My head is still spinning, but I force myself to my feet. I hold up the phone, saying a prayer that I’ll get a bar or two of reception. That’s all I need and I’ll be able to call 911. I step over to the window, pressing my phone against the glass the way I did earlier.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please… just one bar…”
My prayers are not answered.
I can’t spend the rest of the night here, praying for a bar of phone reception. I’ve got to figure out a way to escape. Because it’s beginning to be clear that I do not have any friends on Ward D. Not anymore.
Except how can I get out of here when the doors are all locked?
I think back to the events of the evening. I remember how things took a turn when Miguel peed on the light socket. It blew out all the lights on the unit. At the time, I thought it was done on purpose by whoever is pulling the strings, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe that was just Miguel being crazy and blowing out the lights. I don’t believe any of it is related to the landline phones going out, which I think was done purposefully, but the power outage was real.
If the power goes out again, will the door lock disengage?
It’s worth a shot.
There are a bunch of mugs lined up by the sink. I pick up one that says “If you’re happy and you know it, thank your meds.” I turn on the sink and fill it up with lukewarm water. Then I walk over to the light socket.
Here goes nothing.
I pour the water directly over the light socket, trying my best to get it right inside. Right away, sparks fly. I crane my neck, looking up at the lights overhead. They flicker for a moment.
And then they go out.
If I ever had a chance, this is it. I grab my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight function. I shine it around the room until I locate the door. And then I make a run for it.
The door to the unit is directly on my left. All I have to do is grab the handle and get the hell out of here. But before I can do it, I find myself hesitating. I find my eyes drawn in the direction of the seclusion rooms. Notably, to Seclusion One.
Don’t you want to see what’s inside?
I shine my flashlight in the direction of Seclusion One. The keypad that usually glows green has gone dark. Is this when Damon Sawyer escaped? Or is he still in the room, ready to pounce when I open the door?
And then a terrible thought hits me.
When anyone leaves the unit, the door alarm sounds off. It’s like a siren—you can hear it everywhere. And I haven’t heard that sound once since I first entered Ward D.
Cameron supposedly had a family emergency and left the unit. But if that were true, we would have heard that deafening siren noise emit from the door. Which means…
Cameron never left.
If he had gone through that door, I would have heard the siren. So that means he must still be here. Since I have searched everywhere else, that leaves one remaining place where he could be. And if he is in there—if Damon Sawyer somehow grabbed him and pulled him inside—I owe it to Cameron to try to rescue him before it’s too late.
I can’t leave here without seeing what’s behind this door. It will only take a second.
I reach for the handle, and it turns easily in my hand. The locks have disengaged like I hoped they would. I yank the door open, shining the light on my phone into the dark space.
