I could see the hazy glow of orange in the night sky as I waited in the rideshare parking lot for Addison. The hospital, or at least part of it, was burning. The fire would eat eight patients, including one I would soon find out was named Janet Oberman. Out of the patients in the woman’s ward of the hospital, Janet was the one that most closely met Addison’s criteria.
First, she was similar in build and age to Addison herself. Second, she had no one that came to visit her. Third, her “intake bag” contained not only her purse, cellphone and car keys, but credit cards that were not set to expire for another few months. I knew all of this because Addison knew all of this. Because among the people she had befriended during her two month stay at the asylum, both a custodian and an orderly had been shown a new path for their life. And as I could attest to from personal experience, once Addison showed you that path, there was very little you wouldn’t do to walk it by her side.
The package I had chucked over the fence earlier had looked from the outside like little more than a duct-taped beach towel wadded up into something approaching the size and shape of a basketball. But it was what was inside the ball that mattered. A burner phone, a book of matches and a plastic glue bottle partially filled with lighter fluid, as well as a small bag of Addison’s blood. I had not even made it back to the car before I saw the shadowy figure of the custodian coming out to collect the package.
The plan was simple. All patients had to be in their rooms by 9pm. Doors were locked at 9:30, and the lights went out at 10pm. That was the routine of the hospital, and routine is very important in such a place as that.
Except tonight, the routine would be disrupted. Janet Oberman would be taken to Addison’s room instead of her own. Once there, she would be struck in the head with a bookend that had been taken from Janet’s own room. Then she would be set on fire. The bookend itself would be cleaned before being smeared with Addison’s blood (which had been in my refrigerator next to the tofu for the last two months) and discarded back in Janet’s room which, as luck would have it, was on a different hall that would likely be untouched by the fire.
The rooms near Addison’s wouldn’t be so lucky. The plan was to burn all eight of the rooms on that hall so Addison’s didn’t call special attention. There would be a knife from the kitchen used to wound or kill the other patients, and that, like the bookend, the matches, and the glue bottle filled with lighter fluid, would be left in Janet’s room when it was all done. Eight people would die that night, and another five would escape. I worried what might happen if one of them was caught—they wouldn’t know all the details, but they would know that Addison was still alive; that it was Janet Oberman’s body that lay twisted and smoldering in her room.
But I forced my doubts aside. They wouldn’t betray Addison any more than I would, and even if they did, what did it matter? The ravings of lunatics in the face of the physical evidence, Addison’s family demanding the remains immediately, and the ongoing proof that Janet Oberman was alive and out in the world.
Because Addison was bringing Janet’s purse with her. The orderly would have gotten it from the patient intake storage room and given it to her before opening the back gate. After I dropped Addison off, I would take the purse and drive south for three days, making sure to use the cards in out of the way places once every few hours. So long as I kept my face and damaged hand out of any cameras, it shouldn’t be hard to give the impression that Janet, after killing Addison and several of her fellow patients, had escaped and was slowly traveling south toward the border.
When Addison had told me about the plan two months earlier, I was worried. What if I got caught? What if they checked Janet’s body for DNA or dental records? What if someone made a mistake?
She had listened to my questions patiently before replying. If I got caught, I was to say that I had been paid by a woman matching Janet’s description to use the cards for a few days while she traveled in a different direction. They might charge me with theft, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. As for the rest, Addison said that everything that could be taken care of had been—there would be no autopsy or detailed examination of the body before it was turned over to her grandfather. No security footage and no investigation into why the accelerants seemed to match gasoline much more closely than the small amount of lighter fluid found in Janet’s room. As for the rest? Addison had just laughed.
“Danger and uncertainty are always going to be there, Terri. I know you’re not there yet, but once you reach the point on the Path that you can fully embrace it as the gift that it is, the fear and worry fall away. All that is left is your Will.”
We had been sitting on my sofa at the time, moments away from some of the worst pain I’ve ever had in my life. I had smiled and nodded. “I know, it’s just hard some times. I worry that I’ll mess something up.”
Addison watched me silently for a moment before standing up. “Did I ever tell you my father was an archer?”
I shook my head.
“Yeah, he was. Not professional, of course. I think the only thing he did professionally was spend my mother’s money. But he would practice a lot and do the occasional tournament. I don’t remember a lot about him, but I remember one time, just a few months before he died, he tried to show me how to shoot a bow.”
Addison had stepped back from the sofa and gone into an archer’s stance, left arm out straight as she drew back an invisible bowstring. She looked at some unknown, distant target as she went on. “He told me that the trick to making the hard shots was to not think about it. Not worry about it. The bow was just a platform for your desire. The arrow was the important part, because it carried your Will. Not your thoughts or your doubts, but something purer, something higher. You didn’t release the arrow wondering if it would hit. You had already decided it would hit. You released it simply to force reality to conform itself to what you already knew to be true.”
Addison had broken her stance to look back down at me, wiping her left eye with the back of her hand. “He was a bit drunk at the time, and I don’t know that he expected me to get it at such a young age, but I understood it very well.” Crouching down next to me, she grabbed my hand tightly. “This Path that we are traveling is something purer and higher, too. And we survive it by living without fear, without doubt, without hesitation.”
She yanked my hand forward as she opened her mouth. Pain exploded up my arm as she began biting through my thumb, yanking her head back and forth so violently that as she backed up I fell off the sofa. I could distantly hear myself screaming, but my mind was focused on getting it over with. I turned my body so I could brace against Addison as she grinded down between the bones and yanked again. I saw my vision go red and then white. One last forceful tug and the pain changed. The feeling of pressure was gone, replaced with the hot shock of damaged nerves screaming in the open air as blood pulsed out onto the rug.
Then Addison was beside me. I think she must have swallowed my thumb, as I didn’t see it anywhere and she was talking to me clearly, telling me it would be all right as she put one of the towels we had prepared against the wound. She said I needed to stay with her, at least long enough to call 911. I had numbly agreed, though I don’t remember what I told the operator or the police when they arrived.
The next memory I had was two days later in the hospital. I had woken up in a panic, worried that something had gone wrong, that they had hurt Addison somehow instead of just taking her to the institution like she had wanted. It was a foolish worry, and not at all bec…
I let out a small scream as Addison opened the back door and climbed into the seat behind me. I met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “You scared me.”
She let out a laugh. “I could tell. Give me a second to change clothes before we get going.” She opened up the duffel bag I had brought and changed out of the smoky-smelling green scrubs she had been wearing. Those went into a large sealable garment bag that we’d dispose of after we left the area. As she was pulling on her shirt, she glanced back up at me. “Did you get the burner phone?”
I nodded. “Yes, it’s in the glove compartment.”
Addison squeezed my shoulder. “Good job. Now let’s head to the drop off point. After that, start out on Janet’s last wild ride.”
I laughed. “I’ll feel like a spy in a movie.”
She grinned as she laid down in the back seat. “Super Agent Terri. Just make sure you’re back in five days, okay? Remember, you’re my movie director too.”
My smile fell away. I remembered. I was dreading this part, though I knew it was just me being weak. Trying to hide my dismay, I raised my fist as we pulled out of the parking lot.
“That’s right! Lights! Camera!...”
“Action!”
“Oh God, why are you doing this?”
The old gymnasium smelled of stagnant water and disuse, and at the edge of our light I saw several small, furtive shifts in the shadows I suspected were rats. Shuddering, I looked down at the bound naked man sitting on the floor before me. He had been crying and whining for the last half hour, ever since Mr. Paul and Mr. Soto, his former patient and employee respectively, had roughly stripped him down and bound him. Every time he complained, one of them struck him, but it only cured the noise for a short while. It was like he had a geyser of fear in him that had to erupt every few minutes, no matter the price. I felt around in my heart for any pity for him, but thankfully, I found none.
“Dr. Talpin, you’re only making this harder on yourself. You should be savoring these last few moments of peace before filming begins.”
The woman, Dr. Bridges, looked up at me with dejected anger before glancing at the man. “You might as well save your breath, Richard. They are under her control. We have no chance of persuading them. We either fight or…”
Her head rocked back as I slapped her across the face. “You need to be quiet too. There is no fighting this. And I’ve seen your notes. You should be grateful to be part of something like this at all, particularly after how you treated Addison.”
Eyes watering, Bridges looked back up at me. “Why don’t you get Addison out here so I can talk to her directly. Try to make amends.”
Talpin looked at Bridges incredulously. “Addison? Addison is dead, you stupid bitch! If anyone is behind this, it’s Janet.”
I almost left it alone, but all of this was going to have to be removed from the final movie anyway. I didn’t want talk of Addison or my voice on the disc we left behind. And if it was only going on the director’s cut, I might as well have my fun too. “I’m afraid you’re the stupid bitch, Dr. Talpin. Janet’s all burned up.” I enjoyed watching his eyes go wide as he started to understand. He began sniveling again, which earned him another hard slap from the orderly’s beefy hand.
Turning back to Bridges, “And as for you, you don’t get to talk to her again. She’s not even here. You’re not worth her time.” She lowered her gaze as the last of the hope left her eyes. Suddenly, she started stammering to Talpin.
“Richard, she’s the only one that can call this off. If we don’t escape, we…”
Her words cut off as I kicked her in the ribs. “Enough of that. Get up. It’s show time.”
Paul and Soto yanked them to their feet and began shoving the pair from our small circle of light under one of the rusting basketball hoops out to our main stage. I stopped the camera and then started back under a new file. It would make editing it easier, and I wanted to capture the scene before the pair changed it with their screams and blood. It wasn’t anything fancy—a thin mattress covered by clear tarps, all of it highlighted by a pair of powerful spotlights. But it was simple. Simple and beautiful. Full of potential.
I felt my breath quickening as Soto pulled the pair into the light. I had been afraid of being too squeamish for this job, but instead I was excited, anxious to get started. Talpin looked toward me and let out a low moan as Bridges began to cry softly. I stepped closer, making sure my phone’s camera stayed in focus. I didn’t want to miss capturing a single moment. Addison said it had to be clear enough that whoever watched it wouldn’t think it was just a low-budget horror…
“…movie? What if no one ever watches it? Especially sticking it in another movie’s Blu-Ray case?”
Addison smiled at me, her eyes dancing. It was now three weeks since she had been out of the hospital, and she had never looked more radiant. At least part of that was because she was so happy with the job I had done on the movie, and I felt so excited and proud I thought I might burst. She’d taken it a few days earlier to encode it with what she called “special magic” so she’d be alerted as soon as it was played on pretty much anything connected to the internet.
When she brought it back today, it was in the disc case of a sci-fi movie—Independence Day. I was already worried that the movie might go to waste, that the whole box might go to waste, if no one ever found it. But like always, Addison wasn’t worried. She had already decided what was going to happen. Now it was just a matter of making it so.
“It’ll be watched, Terri. Don’t worry about that.” Addison pulled out a sealed plastic bag. Inside I could see several small Halloween toys that looked like they had been smeared with blood. She handed me the bag. “These go in the box near the bottom. On top of this.”
My breath caught as she took the old skin-bound book from her bag. I felt an electric charge go through me as I touched it, and I found myself wanting to ask her if it was okay if I read more of it before putting it in the box. But I already knew the answer. The book wasn’t for me any longer, at least not for now. Still, I couldn’t help but voice one last worry.
“What if the book gets lost or destroyed?”
My blood froze as Addison’s gaze changed. “Your questions and doubts are starting to get tiresome, Terri. Do you doubt the plan? Do you doubt me?” I wanted to answer, but I felt as though my throat was constricting to a pinhole. Why wouldn’t she stop looking at me? I was so sorry I had made her angry, if she would just stop…
She looked away and I sucked in a breath. I used it the next second to say how sorry I was. That of course I didn’t doubt her or the plan. I just knew how valuable the book was. I was being foolish. Smiling, she turned back to me and stroked my cheek.
“It’s okay, Terri. Just let it be the last time.” Shifting her gaze to the back seat, she regarded the cardboard box. “Everything else already in there?”
I nodded. “I put everything else in before and…” Swallowing, I went on, “I put the box of shadows inside this morning.”
Addison frowned for a moment. “It’s almost right…but it’s still missing something.” She glanced at me. “Do you have a pen or something?”
Digging in my purse, I came up with a black marker I had been using to mark moving boxes. I glanced at the dash clock as I handed it to her. Four-thirty. I had to hurry. This was the last day of my lease’s early-termination period, and the rest of my stuff had already been moved. I needed to get the box into Addison’s old storage unit tonight or I’d call attention trying to get back into the building after I was supposed to be fully moved out.
But Addison didn’t have much left to do. Leaning over the seat, she scrawled two words on the side of the box.
Handing me the pen back, she leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead, making me giggle as she got out of the car. Leaning back in, she looked at me seriously.
“Be careful and then go to the gathering as we planned. Remember, this is just the beginning.” Tipping me a wink, she added, “We still have much work to do, yes?”
---
Credits
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