No, rather than focus on escaping, Maria needed to prepare herself when they came back for her. And they had to come back, eventually. They needed the transfusion machine to survive.
The machine.
Without it, they’ll die.
Maria let go of JD and stood up, staring at the infernal device. She unplugged it from the extension cord snaking under the door, then squatted down and grabbed the bottom. With a quick lift, she upended the device, grinning as the casing split open.
But she wasn’t finished. She pulled off the case and tore into its innards, pulling out parts and wires. Picking up a piece of the housing, she used it as a club, smashing and smashing until every single part was broken. Then she turned her fury on the chair, the one they strapped her and countless others onto in order to bleed them. Maria broke that into bits as well, half-crying and half-laughing and entirely hysterical.
When she finished, and it lay in ruins around her, she collapsed, hugging her knees, grinning even as the tears streamed down her face.
JD came over, offered his paw.
She held him again, the act of petting an animal allowing her to calm down, to come back to reality.
Then she heard the door lock snick open.
JD pulled from her arms, launching himself at the man as the door opened. Maria crab-walked backwards, looking for the cattle prod, hoping that the person at the door wasn’t—
Millard.
He was the biggest, and meanest, of all Eleanor’s children. At least seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and thick wrists. His hair was white, shoulder length, scraggly. And like the others, his eyes were bloodshot all the time, a symptom of one of his many conditions.
Millard went far beyond the casual sadism of George, Dwight, and Teddy, or the simple-minded brutishness of Harry, Grover, and Calvin. Millard was a psychotic animal. He enjoyed hurting things. He lived for it. So much so, that his brothers were all afraid of him. Maria had heard that Millard hunted deer with a knife, and then cut off their legs, one at a time, to see how far they could run. He was the only son Eleanor wouldn’t sleep with.
Maria had scars from Millard. She’d only given him three transfusions, and each time he’d come up with new ways to inflict pain during the procedure. Thumbtacks and witch hazel. Matches. A cheese grater and a salt shaker. Nothing that would harm her seriously, but would hurt worse than anything in the world.
As Millard stomped into the room, JD threw himself at the gigantic man, aiming for the cattle prod clenched in Millard’s hand. But Millard seemed fatter than usual, and Maria quickly spotted why.
He’s wearing the Ronald suit.
The Ronald suit was made of thick bands of foam. It was used when Millard was dealing with Ronald—no one else had the guts to. There was no way JD would be able to bite through the padding. Even Millard’s head was protected, in a black football helmet with a metal grid faceplate, crude white skulls painted on each side.
Maria glanced at her cattle prod, knowing it would be ineffective.
I can’t fight him. I have to run.
Millard lifted up his arm, and a hundred and twenty pounds of dog hung from his padded wrist, refusing to let go. The giant punched the Shepherd in the ribs, once, and again. But JD hung on like a champion.
Maria ran at them, holding the cattle prod in front of her like a fencing sword. She thrust it up high, connecting with Millard’s faceplate.
Sparks flew. Millard yanked the prod from her but stumbled to the side, allowing an open path to the doorway.
“JD! Come!”
On command JD released the giant’s arm. He shot through the door just as she was slamming it on Millard. Incredibly, the key was on a key ring and still in the lock—Millard must not have had any pockets in the Ronald suit. Maria turned the key, locking him in, and then backed away from the door.
It shook, but didn’t open. Millard was trapped.
“Nice job, JD. JD?”
Maria looked around. The dog had taken off.
“JD!” she called. “Come!”
Frantic thoughts invaded her mind.
Did I leave him in there with Millard?
No. He got out. I know he got out.
So where is he?
“JD!”
Maria had never seen the hallways down here; they always put a hood on her when she was out of her cell. The corridor walls were stone and concrete, crumbling with age. The floors were dirt. Light came from bare bulbs, hanging from the ceiling by extension cords. The hallway itself was actually more like a tunnel, curving left and right with no logical direction.
“JD!” Maria yelled again. She knew she was due for a complete mental breakdown. A physical one as well—having that freak blood in her always made her woozy afterward. But she had to stay strong, had to keep going. Had to capitalize on the opportunity.
“JD!” she implored, begging the universe for the dog to respond.
“Who’s calling for my dog?”
It was a woman’s voice, coming from farther down the hall. Maria moved slowly, listening for noises and constantly checking behind her. When she rounded a bend, she saw JD, scratching away at a cell door.
“JD! Good boy!” She patted him on the head.
“Who’s there?”
“I’m Maria,” she told the woman in the cell. “Is JD your dog?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“I’m a prisoner here. Like you. Hold on, let me find the right key.”
Maria fussed with Millard’s key ring, finding the one for the cell on the third try. Upon opening the door, the dog rushed in, licking at the woman’s legs.
She was tall, muscular. A bit dirty, but not a long-time guest.
“I owe your dog several steaks. He saved my—”
“Are those keys?”
Maria nodded. The woman pulled them from Maria’s hands and rushed past.
“Hold on,” Maria said, hurrying after her. “We need to talk.”
“I need to find my daughter. She’s locked up in one of these rooms.”
“We’ll find her,” Maria said. “But you need to know what we’re dealing with here.”
“I know what we’re dealing with. Some real sicko freaks. Kelly! Can you hear me?”
“Mom!”
Kelly’s mother rushed to the next cell door, fussing with the lock.
“Which key is it? Which goddamn key?”
Maria put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Lady, you need to calm down a bit.”
“Calm down? Do you know what these people have done to us?”
Maria rested her hand on the keys. “Look at me. I’ve been here a year. I know what these people can do. And if you don’t listen to me, we aren’t going to get out of here alive.”
The woman looked like she was about ready to throw a punch, and Maria wondered if she just should get the hell out of there, leave them behind.
But the punch didn’t come. Instead, the woman managed to calm herself down. “I’m Letti. Thank you for opening my door. Can you help me with this one?”
Maria nodded, finding the right key. When she unlocked it, there was an intense mother/daughter/dog reunion. Maria was touched. She hadn’t seen a normal person since she’d been abducted, and certainly hadn’t felt love like she was currently witnessing. But they needed to get going. There were other prisoners. And Eleanor had guns, and more psycho children.
A lot more.
“We need to go,” she said.
Letti seemed reluctant to break the embrace with her daughter, but she did so. “Kelly, this is Maria. She just saved out asses.”