2 weeks. It had been 2 weeks since I had been brought to the hospital, and they had yet to release me. I was fine, I had no symptoms at all. My lab work had all come back fine, and there was no trace of anything. Yet, they were still very concerned about me. They refused to lift the quarantine, which I thought was illegal. How could they, I had repeatedly asked, keep a healthy woman under quarantine for so long without due cause?
They had responded that 4 unexplained deaths was indeed due cause, and until they found out why everyone who came in contact with me died I would have to stay. Apparently, the 2 people who were in critical condition had also died. Now I wasn’t saying that was good, nor was I happy about it. But 2 weeks and no other incidents, that’s too long. But Dr. Howell had been quick to explain that there had been no other incidents because I had not been in contact with anyone else.
“So put me in contact!“ I had protested.
“With whom?” he had responded. And to that, I had no answer.
Over the past few days, I had gotten very itchy. There was nothing for me to do, although they had allowed me my cell phone, thank god! And I had access to a computer, so I could go online and at least be a part of the world, albeit virtually. I filled my days with social media, games, and reading. I had always been a voracious reader, and loved the classics. I tried to view this time as a vacation, and begin to re-pour through some books that I hadn’t read in a while. Anna Karenina was first, and I immediately got lost in the language, the beautiful and painful world of Anna. Then I moved onto the Bronte sisters and Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey… again, lost in the pastoral settings and romantic prose, and in the hypnotic language, making me feel the wanting, the yearning. I did get lost. Then I would be jolted back to the cold, grim reality of my new world when a nurse dressed like a storm trooper came in to ignore me and check my vitals. I was locked in a clinical room, antiseptic, cold and most troubling of all, with no real human contact. I was eating, but I was starving.
One day, I was reading when I noticed a large ant climbing up my window sill. It was pretty big for an ant, and I was surprised that he had gotten into what appeared to be a hermetically sealed room. I suddenly got an idea. If I could touch this little creature and it didn’t die, maybe I would be able to prove to Dr. Howell that I had no further issues, that I was now just fine! I rose, and walked over to the window. Slowly, I reached out to the ant, and placed my index finger on him. He was still. Very still. He was dead, almost immediately. Maybe I crushed him, I reasoned. Shit, no. This was weird, and very bad. What the hell?
They were going to keep me here forever, I thought to myself. What are they even doing? What could they possibly be studying about me? They will never figure it out, because they have no clue. Even I have no clue. Wait – yes, I have a clue. That little boy, that day, “tag”. That was the start of all of this, that little, cold-eyed boy. Why hadn’t I connected him to this sooner? I should tell the doctor!
No, I reasoned. If I told anyone that a little boy rang my doorbell, said “tag” implying that I am now “it”, and then disappeared into thin air all that would be accomplished is that I would be placed on a 24-hour lockdown with a Thorazine drip. No, I would have to figure this out on my own. I could tell no one.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car pull up to what appeared to be a side entrance to this hospital. I had never been at this hospital before now, and did not know the layout. I saw a man jump out of the car with a bouquet of flowers, and leave the car running while he ran inside. Impulsively, I made a decision – and maybe a terrible mistake. I grabbed my shoes and my cell phone, and pushed up the window and looked out. 2 floors. Without thought or logic, I jumped. It was a much longer jump than I expected, and even though I was in solid physical condition, it really hurt to land. I rose slowly to assess if I had injured myself, but I thought I was ok. I mean as ok as I could be at this point. I looked around and saw no one. I bolted to the car, got behind the wheel and drove as fast as I could. I escaped!
But what would I do now? What could I do? If I went home, I would likely have a SWAT team there shortly to ensure I was recaptured and this time, put under a very secure lock down. I realized there was only one thing I could do, only one thing I had to do – I had to find him. I had to find the boy. But how?
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