Page 19 of Sadistic Retribution

I peer closer, seeing the main screen with The Retreat logo on the front. “Yes!” I yell. Swiping the cover screen away, I pull up the massive list of numbered folders again. I open the first one, still not getting it. It's mostly numbers, with a few letters thrown in.

I glance over to see Thor clicking through the folders. He furrows his brow.

I wheel my chair closer to his. “What do you make of it?”

He holds up a finger, clicking through a few more. “Wait...” he mutters, placing a few on the screen. “I might know what this means. Here.” He points to the first row of numbers. “These looks like dates. See? 01-181-97-3 could mean January 18, 1973. And this one? 102-31-98-1? October 23, 1981.”

“Okay... How the hell did you come to that conclusion so quickly?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Practice, man. These letters could stand for initials, or location. KC could be someone’s name or stand for Kansas City.”

“Okay,” I say, seeing a pattern emerge. “See the 1, 2, 3? Patient numbers? I remember hearing a nurse refer to a patient as Patient 11. Then below it—Money, maybe? One-hundred thousand... for what?”

“Oh shit!” Thor yells, jumping around in excitement. “That’s it! I bet those are prices paid for the patient. Like trafficking, you know?”

My face pales. “Is that what they’re fucking doing? I've heard others refer to ‘The Morgue’, an area no one comes back from. Because they’ve been sold?” On the heels of that thought, an a-ha moment has me jumping to my feet. “That’s where Phoenyxx is—I’d bet everything on it!”

“Man, hopefully she hasn’t been—you know—sold.”

My voice rises with panic. “We have to get her out, dammit! I'm calling Jax!”

But before I can even grab my phone, Jax saunters in. “Another thought occurs to me,” he says, without preamble. “Your sister may have been sold. Thor—you and Bill scour every folder, notate anything with the letters CH, and possible dates between 2011—now. Got it?”

“Yes, boss,” Thor salutes, swiveling back around.

“Sure thing,” Bill calls.

“Harris and I are sharing screens, so we can work on it at the same time.”

“No problem, I need to share what we found with you, anyway.” I tell Jax. I relay all that we’ve found so far, and he nods.

“Now that I’m all caught up, stay on it, guys.” Jax responds.

I need a break desperately, but there’s no way I’m stopping now. Pretty Girl and Cynthia are on the line.

I decide to visit the range set up across the property later on. Some targeted practice might do me good. I might just be killing people before this is all said and done.

Phoenyxx

I’m trying to catch some sleep since the sounds and lights have finally cut off. I clutch my covers up to my neck, rolled onto my side. I sigh and my eyes flutter closed.

As I start to drift, I hear a muttered voice. High-pitched, likely female. I sit up with a frown and listen harder, hearing a squeaky laugh. Then more whispers.

I jump up, stalking towards the bars. “Hello? Is there someone there?” I call out.

The voice stops, then giggles again. “Hi, hello, hey there!” an enthusiastic response greets me.

“Oh my God! Are you a prisoner here too? Who are you?”

“I’m Patient 6. Who are you?”

6? “I’m Patient 11—my name is Phoenyxx.”

“No, no, no—no names! I’m 6, you are 11!” she starts keening; I can hear her anxiety rising from here.

“Okay, sorry... Do you remember your name?”

“No, no, been too long,” she mutters. “So long. I'm grown-up now!” She giggles like a little girl.