Bottled Abyss (29 page)

“I’ll just go to that one we passed a bit ago.”

“You sure? It’s closer—”

“No worries.” Janet took off briskly, shoes clapping the tile.

“Oooookay, I’ll be here,” said Stacy, sounding bothered.

Janet’s heart thrummed in her throat and her skin became itchy with emerging sweat. She crossed the hallway and turned immediately into the stairwell. Stepping over the spilled soda, she heard echoes of a conversation on the floor directly below, accompanied with footsteps. Janet climbed the stairs toward a wall with a painted 3 on its face. She hurried up a flight and then took another. The bottle sloshed again with her swaying purse.

The door read FLOOR 4 – Ward B.

Close enough
, she thought, and pulled the handle.

2

The bottled glugged and bubbled as she stepped down the corridor of patient rooms. Janet had passed the same nurse’s station twice and the two young nurses, both with their hair tied up in the back, took quiet notice of her each time. A door opposite the staff entrance, on the other side of the circular ward, had the inscription LOBBY and beneath it, TO WARD A and C. Janet was holding out for an adjoining hall that would avoid the lobby; she was on the inside now, with the patients, and she didn’t want to sacrifice her good fortune. There didn’t seem to be any alternate routes though, unless there was something behind the nurse’s station.

If it hadn’t happened already, she was bound to attract attention just hanging around with no real place to go. She had to get in motion and focus on the best direction, without any possible distraction or interruption. Thinking ahead, she texted Stacy,
Stupid me, got lost. Just head to the
Learning
Center
w/o me. I’ll find my way there. Sorry.

Janet went back to the employee entrance, eager to discover some secret path between wards. She pulled the handle and the door thudded in place. It must have locked behind her when it closed and could only be opened with one of those ID cards.

“Shit…,” she whispered.

“Are you lost?”

A tired looking doctor of Middle Eastern descent stood behind her with a bag of Fritos in one hand and a can of Papaya juice in the other.

Janet took a breath. “Yes, I… am. I’m…”

“It’s no problem. What room is it?” he asked with a good natured smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I think,” she laughed, “I might be in the wrong ward. I’m supposed to go to C.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “They let you in? These girls.” He shook his head and pressed his lips together in disapproval. “They should have let you know. Too busy with their jobs.”

“Well it’s my fault for not reading signs,” Janet explained.

He took her gently under the arm. “This way, please. I just want to have a word with them. They are the reason you’re lost. Too often this happens.”

“No, that’s really okay. I don’t want to get them in trouble.”

“Brenna,” the doctor called as they approached the nursing station.

A woman with bulging eyes and strong receding hairline popped her head out the side of the nurse’s station. “Yes, Dr. Malik?”

“You buzzed her in and this isn’t even the correct ward she’s visiting.”

“I haven’t buzzed anybody in,” Brenna replied. Her head disappeared and she asked the other nurses.

Janet stiffened and a spike of dread went through her chest.

Brenna appeared again. “We haven’t buzzed anybody in for over an hour.”

The doctor looked at Janet and smirked. She opened her mouth to say something but came up short.

“No, no.” He led Janet passed the station. “They won’t take responsibility, and they never do.”

“Is there a quick way to Ward C?”

“Through the lobby, cross the hall to the Ward C lobby. Not far at all.” Dr. Malik took her to the lobby door and opened it. An electronic catching sound registered. “Sorry for the confusion.”

“Thanks for your help,” Janet replied.

Malik nodded graciously and closed the door behind her.

Janet stood there a moment, processing her defeat. An older man and woman sat together in a corner together, the woman thumbing an iPad, the man with a Time magazine less than a foot from his eyes. The thought was fleeting, but it caught at Janet.
That could have been Herman and I. If our lives hadn’t become a nightmare within a nightmare…

She slowly headed down the hall and stopped at the boundary of the identical lobby for Ward C.

Square one…

This lobby’s similarities almost made her dizzy, as though she’d walked in a circle. In the far corner there was even another old couple here, except the man was exceptionally fat, fast asleep and snoring, and the woman cross-stitched what looked like an image of a Coors Light beer mug.

Janet leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Who was she fooling? She hadn’t expected to get into Ramirez today anyhow. This was reconnaissance. There was no telling what she’d be able to accomplish, even if she managed to get into the other ward. Her thoughts dissolved into retreating. She could go downstairs to the
Learning
Center
, thank Stacy for the tour and come back another day.

She edged off the wall. Froze.

But really, what did it matter if it was today, tomorrow or next week? She was here. She could do this today. If she returned to her hotel and sat there with Lester, only to wonder how this day could have been, it would drive her more insane than she already was.

The Ward C lobby became more crowded the farther she ventured inside. Just to the left of a windowed garden area, a short hall littered in health flyers led to the interior ward. Janet approached the door warily. Josue Ramirez was somewhere on the other side. Guarded too, she reminded herself.
Can’t climb a wall until you see how high it is
. Herman used to tell her that. He’d been relating it to weightlifting but it applied here as well.

Janet casually picked up the phone. The other end rang two times. “Good afternoon,” a voice said. “Can I help you?”

Janet hesitated with a grimace, then slowly leaned into the speaker. “Hey, this is Stace! Can you please—let me in pretty please?” Janet’s imitation was as loud and wild as she could muster. A few people in the lobby looked her way.

The other end of the line crackled with static. The white noise rippled between her and them. It might have been only seconds, but it lasted forever.

“Stacy Roberts,” Janet said more softly. She could hear muffled voices discussing something on the other end. Then she added, “From the Learning—”

“Hi, Stacy.”

The door buzzed. Janet caught the handle and went inside.

As with the other ward, a nurse’s station was the central hub of the room. The people behind the glass sat too low and were surrounded by too many computers to see her. A number of visitors walked around too, not to mention more hospital staff. A fine buffer for now.

Under no delusions she’d be mistaken for Stacy, Janet hightailed it to a visitor’s restroom. The room was angular and cold with white tile and gray grout floors. A textured blue paint slid sideways on the walls. It was supposed to be serene, but came off as a murderous avalanche caught in freeze frame.

She decided to wait in a stall for maybe twenty minutes or so, just to be certain nobody took her for an imposter.

She put her purse on the ground. The bottle
guhlunked
. She wiped off the toilet seat and with reservations, settled down on it. A text message came in suddenly and Janet dropped her phone between her legs. Stacy must have been responded finally.

Officer Davis’s number…

Pls keep on the DL. Headed to question Ramirez @ Loma Linda. My detective friend said I could go for study. Let you know everything ASAP. Take care of yourself.

Janet’s heart clenched with panic. Her numb fingers texted back,
Thx
.

She grabbed her purse.

There was no time to wait things out now.

A middle aged woman with baggy eyes and a sour looking face walked into the bathroom. She held the door open for Janet, who nodded thanks without making eye contact.

Outside, a nurse helped a younger man walk down the hall as he perilously grasped his IV stand.
Was that
him
?
Janet thought. The man could be considered Hispanic looking, but there were probably numerous Hispanic patients here. She kept walking, all the while fidgeting with her blouse, hoping that would justify her random glances into patient rooms.

Halfway around the loop, Janet found Josue Ramirez’s room.

A chair was positioned to the side of the door and a tall, built contract guard in a gray uniform stood just feet away. Contract or not, there was a shiny black gun on his hip.
Rent-a-cops with a bite.
The guard chatted with a nurse behind the counter. Her eyes busied themselves on a computer screen, but she nodded as he spoke. His voice was lowered, but it carried well enough in the hall.

Leaning against the chair’s back, a radio with a long antenna had been left behind. It pulsed with sound and random pieces of conversations.

The guard spluttered. “So then he says my explanation for missing the paperwork is just an excuse…I mean, that paperwork doesn’t even
mean
anything! It sits in a file drawer. Nobody reads it. It’s not a big deal. Really. Jeez, I can’t take this guy.”

“New job?” she asked.

“New boss,” he laughed. She gave a weak smile. “And you know what? The guy has to always talk-up his grandparents and their work ethic. They have a restaurant franchise in Utah,” the guard’s voice dipped even lower, “
Mormons
I think, or those, what are those people who come to your door?”

“Jehovah Witnesses…” The nurse vigorously typed something and twitched her nose in mundane thought.

“One of those two, or maybe they were those hard core Amish type Jews, so anyways, he’s got me good and cornered. He even got on me about tucking my shirt in better. Can you believe that? Like he’s the greatest of dressers or something with that beer gut. But I guess he doesn’t drink.”

Janet steeled herself and walked past. The guard glanced at her with polite interest. She continued on without hesitation and he turned back to his anecdote that seemed to be nearing its punch line.
 

Holding her breath, Janet took the radio’s antenna between her fingers and lifted it silently off the chair. She let the heavy device rest against her leg as she went, not breaking stride.

She made it to the bathroom again. The sour puss woman from earlier looked up from the sink and Janet acknowledged her. Even the reflection in the bathroom mirror showed a woman in control and confident of her every move. It was an ironic image because internally Janet was in turmoil: her guts twisted, her heart bounced like one of those boxing speed-bags, her blood stung as it traveled through its vessels.

Can’t mess this up. Can’t mess this up. Can’t.

In the stall she felt only marginally better. She turned the volume dial on the guard’s radio until it clicked and the green light on top blinked off. She unscrewed the long antenna and stashed the radio in the narrow place between the toilet and wall. She waited until the other woman left and then tossed the antenna in the trash.

Every little advantage helped.

She left the bathroom and just about walked straight into the guard. He was in a panic; that much was obvious. His eyes darted here and there and he patted his pants as though something would magically appear there. Janet pretended to go through her purse, looking for something.