They pushed her into the Room. The gurney's wheels squeaked as they slipped across the black padded floor. She could see the black ceiling, could feel the emptiness, the weight of the air. The walls swallowed sound. People spoke through layers of cotton. There were many of them around her now. Wasserman's voice cut through the rest, directing everyone to their various duties.
She felt herself trembling, sickness welling up inside as her pulse thumped in her throat.
Wires were placed about her face and temples, monitors attached to her fingertips. Faces loomed over her, filling her sight, quickly replaced by others.
The prickling fire had spread through her limbs, her neck, her tongue. She felt something building deep within her body and began to feel the familiar itch of pending release. With it came another wave of terror.
They left her alone. The door closed. She was plunged into utter blackness.
She could not hold it back now. She screamed.
The Room swallowed the sounds with ease, and everything else that came after.
--18--
"We've had a problem," Dr. Wasserman said.
Shelley had called that morning as Jess was sipping her tea at the window, watching the trains. She borrowed Charlie's car and rushed there as fast as she could, arriving in under twenty minutes. She knew it was serious enough, calling this early.
Now he was walking quickly and she had to trot to keep up. "It was in the playroom--Sarah was accidentally brought in when the other children were present. You're the only one she seems to respond to now, not that any of us had great luck before...."
Jess had never seen him in this state. His tie was pulled down and his shirt looked damp in back. He looked like a man on the edge of a very dark and very deep drop, who was looking for something to grab hold of before it was too late.
She could hear the sound of raised voices through the thick concrete walls as they moved quickly down the hall. By the time they reached the playroom, she could tell that the current disruption, at least, did not involve Sarah. Still, she had to pause for a moment to stare openmouthed at the scene that greeted her through the half-open doors.
Toys were scattered everywhere. The slide was overturned; a tattered, one-limbed doll lay against its base. Books had flown like fluttering birds across the room. The little plastic table had been upended and the legs popped off.
The bear she had given Sarah lay just inside the door, a mute eyewitness to the tragedy.
Light flashed in her eyes. She glanced across the room at the right-hand window. Behind the wire mesh ran a long, splintering crack, winking in the sun.
The commotion came from the corner farthest from the door. Two white-shirted counselors were slowly closing in on a disheveled, hysterical figure.
"She touched him," Wasserman said. "Dennis does not like physical contact of any kind, as I think I told you."
Dennis was backed against the wall. His baseball cap was tilted to the right and upward, his shirt untucked. His hands were up and pawing the air and his head whipped back and forth like that of a dog trying to free itself from a choke collar. His voice was a constant, piercing scream. "Nonononononono ..."
"Where's Sarah?"
"We managed to get her back downstairs. It took three men and almost fifteen minutes. She scratched one of them badly. I believe he's gone for the first-aid kit."
"I want to see her."
"She needs to calm down. I'll go with you in just a moment." Wasserman stepped into the room and raised his voice to a commanding pitch. "You there! That's not the way to treat him. Step away, give him air."
"Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. Twoandtwoisfour. Threeandthreeissix. Fourfivesix. Seveneightnine."
The two counselors slowly moved off. Dennis continued to scream numbers in a wild, high-pitched stream. Jess remembered her brother's similar episodes. Sometimes they wouldn't even know for sure what had set him off, only that he had felt threatened by something. Her mother would have been drinking, most likely, though she hadn't been doing that as much when he was still alive. Somehow he had always seemed to know when she did. He tried to draw it out of her by force.
What did we used to do? Talk softly to him, talk him down. ..
Wasserman spoke in a calming, quiet voice. "There, there, Dennis, no one's going to hurt you. We're all friends here. Friends, Dennis." He moved slowly closer, hands at his sides. "There, now, that's better. . . ."
***
She took the bear and slipped down the hall to the elevator. Downstairs, she told Jeffrey behind the desk that she was here to examine Sarah. She let him examine the temporary pass Wasserman had given her after her first visit, even though he had seen it many times. Finally he led her through the dreary corridor to Sarah's door.
Now that she was away from the scene upstairs, she allowed her anger to boil to the surface. How could they have made such a stupid mistake? To leave the girl with a group of other children when she hadn't seen another child in God knew how long . . .
When Jess caught a glimpse of the poor girl, crouched against the wall, she was glad Wasserman had not followed her down here.
Sarah's eyes were already beginning to glaze over. A long, thin scratch divided one cheek. They had slipped her back into her restraints and the drugs were at work on her already. But Maria was gone. So who was giving her these heavy sedatives?
"Sarah, fight it," Jess said, over by her side. "Fight it. Do you hear me?" She unbuckled the jacket and slipped Sarah's arms out, then lifted the girl to her feet. Sarah muttered something incomprehensible.
Jess made a sudden decision. "Hold on, we're getting you out of this place," she said. She piloted them to the door, hit the buzzer with her palm. Come on, you son of a bitch. A moment later the door swung open and she pushed by the startled Jeffrey--"I'm taking her back upstairs"--and through the hall, half carrying, half dragging Sarah to the elevator.
Upstairs she poked her head into the hall, which was empty. "You stay with me," she said, holding Sarah's chin and looking her in the eye. "You focus. Do you want to see the sky? Do you want to feel the breeze outside?"
Sarah muttered. Her eyes rolled and focused and rolled again. What the hell am I doing Jess wondered, carrying the girl down the empty hall. But Sarah needed something to shock her from this trance. If it went too far she might never come back out again.
Noise still from the playroom; Dennis had calmed down a little, but not much. She went for the doors, and didn't see anyone until they were on the front steps, blinking in the bright sun.
She sat Sarah down on the top step. "Now you listen to me." She took the girl's chin in her hand again and tried to make contact with her eyes, tried to force her way through the soft glaze and hazy sun. "I know you're scared, and angry, and hurt. They treated you like an animal in there when you had a good reason for what happened. How were you supposed to feel, with all those people looking at you?"
Sarah moaned. She pulled her arms into her sides and rocked, head cocked, eyes squeezed tight.
"You didn't deserve to be treated like that. You didn't mean any of it. You only fought back to protect yourself. Am I right, Sarah?"
Sarah twisted her head away. "Leave me 'lone."
"I'll go if you want. Do you really want to go back to your room? Do you want them to lock you up again?"
"No! I don't!"
"I want you to fight that gray feeling that's trying to fill you up. I want you to push it away. We've come too far to go back and I don't want to lose you. Can you do that? Can you open your eyes?"
"I don't want to!"
"Then you'll miss it. Can you smell the air? It's cool out here. There's grass and some trees in the yard. There's a squirrel by the fence, he's standing up and holding something in his paws. He's chattering at us. Can you hear him, Sarah?"