Ch.24: The Phone Run

I pull myself into the chute.

It’s tight. A metal coffin standing on end. The smell of bleach and old fabric softener fills my nose, triggering a memory of doing laundry on Sunday mornings. A different life.

The rungs are built into the side of the shaft. Maintenance ladders. Cold, greasy iron.

I reach up.

My arm is a block of ice. I can't feel my fingers. I just hook my wrist over the rung and pull.

*Lift.*

My body drags upward. My bare feet scrape against the metal walls.

*One rung.*

The Rocuronium is fighting back. The window is closing. My muscles are starting to tremble, not from cold this time, but from chemical fatigue.

*Two rungs.*

I have to climb two floors. Past the kitchen. Up to the second floor hallway where the planter is.

*Three rungs.*

My head swims. The hypothermia is making me dizzy. Black spots dance in my vision.

*Don't pass out. If you pass out, you fall. If you fall, you break.*

I grit my teeth. I focus on the diamond in my stomach. A hard, sharp anchor.

*Four rungs.*

I pass a vent. I hear voices.

"Did you find her?"

It’s Aris. He’s in the kitchen.

"No sign of the car," a security guard replies. "But we found tire tracks heading toward the highway."

"Find her," Aris snarls. "And bring the boy back alive. I need him."

I hold my breath. I hang there in the darkness, suspended by frozen limbs.

He is right on the other side of the wall.

I climb. Silent. Slow.

*Ten rungs. Twenty.*

The air gets warmer as I ascend. The heat from the upper floors rises.

I reach the second floor opening.

The hatch is closed.

I reach up. I push against the metal door.

It’s stuck. Painted shut? Locked?

I shove harder. My shoulder burns.

*Click.*

The latch gives. The door swings open into the hallway.

I peek out.

The hallway is empty. The Persian runner rug stretches out before me. And there, five feet away, is the potted fern.

The burner phone is buried in the dirt.

I pull myself out of the chute. I tumble onto the carpet.

My legs fail me. I can't stand. The Rocuronium has reclaimed them. I am a mermaid on land, dragging a dead tail.

I crawl.

Five feet.

It feels like five miles.

I reach the planter. I dig my hands into the soil.

My fingers brush plastic.

I pull it out.

The phone.

I flip it open.

**Battery: 12%**

Enough.

I check the signal. One bar.

It’s enough.

I type the message. My fingers are clumsy, numb blocks of meat.

**911. VANE MANOR. BASEMENT LAB. PROJECT JANUS. SEND THORNE.**

I hit send.

**SENDING...**

The bar spins.

Come on. Come on.

**SENT.**

I collapse. The relief is a physical weight, crushing the air out of my lungs.

I did it.

Now I just have to get back.

I turn around.

The laundry chute is five feet away.

I start to drag myself back.

My arms are heavy. So heavy. The adrenaline is gone. The cold is gone. The drug is back.

I pull. My body moves an inch.

I pull again. Another inch.

I hear a sound.

A doorknob turning.

It’s the door to the master bedroom. Right next to the chute.

Aris is coming out. Or Isabella.

I freeze.

I am lying in the middle of the hallway, covered in dirt, holding a burner phone.

There is no time to reach the chute.

There is a curtain. A heavy velvet drape covering the hallway window.

I roll.

I throw myself behind the fabric just as the bedroom door opens.

I pull my legs in. I curl into a tight ball.

I hold my breath.

Aris walks out. I see his shoes under the hem of the curtain. Black leather loafers.

He stops.

He is standing right in front of me.

He sniffs the air.

"Dirt?" he mutters.

He looks down.

I see his shoes turn toward the planter. He sees the disturbed soil.

He walks over to it.

He looks at the fern.

Then he turns back.

He looks at the floor.

There is a trail of dirt. A drag mark.

Leading right to the curtain.

He walks toward me.

*Step. Step. Step.*

He stops.

His hand reaches out. I see the shadow of his fingers on the velvet.

The door handle turned. I froze behind the curtains.