Page 49

48

TEGAN

There’s got to be something in this basement that I can use as a weapon.

Unfortunately, the basement was used as a hospital room for Polly’s mother, and it’s correspondingly clean and sanitary. It’s not going to be easy to find something I could use as a weapon. But there must be something .

I wheel myself over to the hospital bed. I feel along the plastic sideboard, seeing if there’s anything that I could pry loose that has a sharp edge. But the bed is well made. Nothing dangerous about it.

Polly left me a glass of water on the nightstand. If I smash it, the shards of glass will be extremely sharp. But then I pick it up and instantly realize that it’s made of plastic. Not a weapon.

This is harder than I thought.

I sift through the drawers of the nightstand. There’s got to be something in there. Even a paper clip could be fashioned into a weapon. But the only thing in the entire nightstand that even comes close is a couple of pencils. And their points are frustratingly dull.

Damn it.

I can’t give up though. I have to do this for Tuna. I have to get her out of here. Because I have a bad feeling that if I don’t do something, neither of us is getting out of here alive.

My next stop is the bathroom, which thankfully has a wide enough door for the wheelchair to fit through. There’s got to be something in there that I can use as a weapon. Even a pair of tweezers might do the trick.

The medicine cabinet is out of my reach. Even when I hold on to the armrest of the chair and stretch as far as I can, I can’t reach it. It might be a good thing, because if I found pain medications in there, I would almost certainly be tempted to take way too many of them. Similarly, there are a couple of shelves mounted on the wall that are far out of my reach.

I lean back into the chair with a huff. The sink has a small drawer underneath it. I have searched everywhere in this basement, so this drawer is my last chance to find something I can use to potentially get out of here. I yank it open, craning my neck to see what’s inside.

The contents are utterly unexciting. A hairbrush with a few strands of gray hair laced between the bristles. A comb. A container of toothpaste advertising a whiter smile. Dental floss.

With growing frustration, I stick my hand into the drawer, feeling around, hoping my fingers will hit something sharp. But they don’t. It’s just extra toothbrushes, more dental floss, and then a plastic baggie that feels sort of sticky. I pull out the plastic baggie, and that’s when my heart stops.

It contains two syringes. And one needle.

Considering I had been planning to use a pencil as a weapon, the needle feels like a gift from God. This is going to get me out of here.

I open the plastic baggie. I pull out the syringe and peel off the packaging. It’s obviously been in this drawer for a while, but it still seems functional. Anyway, I don’t need it to dispense medication. I just need it to hold the needle.

I pick up the needle next and peel away the plastic covering. It looks like it screws into the syringe. I pick up the syringe, preparing to screw it on, and…

I drop the needle.

Oh no.

This wouldn’t be a big deal under ordinary circumstances. Even a week ago, I could have taken my time bending down to pick it up. But right now, that needle lying on the floor feels like it is miles away. Like I’d have to run an entire marathon to get to it. And I’m sure any minute now, Polly will come down to check on me. How can I possibly get to it in time?

You can do it, Mama!

I have to try. For my daughter.

I position my chair just to the side of the needle. I figure there’s no way I’m reaching over the basketball on my stomach, but maybe I can get to it from the side. I reach down as far as I can, and my back spasms, followed by a white-hot jolt of pain in my ankle. But I’m still several inches short.

Damn it.

I need to figure out a way to get closer. I look down at my right foot, positioned in the foot rest. If it weren’t in that foot rest, I could get closer to the needle.

I take a deep breath. I gently raise my right leg from the footrest, ignoring the way it sets off a jolt of excruciating pain in my other leg. I then reach down and flip the plate up. I’ve now given myself a couple more inches of reach. And when my fingers close around the needle, it’s worth all the pain.

When Polly comes back down here, I’m going to be ready for her.