The Crash

Chapter 47

47

TEGAN

I’m going out of my mind with boredom.

There isn’t much to do down here. I’ve been doing the puzzle books Polly gave me and flipping through the magazines, which are largely out of date. I tried reading a couple of books, but I couldn’t focus on anything. I’m actually starting to miss my job at the grocery store.

At around lunchtime, I was certain I heard someone come into the basement. I didn’t know who it was, but it didn’t sound like Polly. The footsteps sounded different from hers—softer and more hesitant. I could almost make out the sound of breathing, and then—I was almost certain—a tiny sniffle. But when I called out for help, there was no answer.

And then I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.

So when Polly comes downstairs midafternoon and offers me the opportunity to get out of bed, I decide to take it.

“Do you think you can manage to get me up on your own?” I ask her as she wheels the chair over to the bed and locks the wheels.

“Of course,” she laughs.

I don’t doubt her. Polly is several inches taller than I would be if I could stand, and she is thin but wiry. I have no doubt based on her knowledge and efficiency with the equipment in this room that she really is a nurse, and I’m sure during her career, she has transferred a fair number of patients into wheelchairs. But at the same time, I’m terrified of anyone even touching my leg at this point.

She sponges off the chair before attempting to get me into it. There’s a fine layer of dust over the seat, and when she’s done, the metal in the chair reflects the light overhead.

“You ready?” she asks.

No. But I need to do this. If I have any hope of getting out of this basement, I need to first get out of bed.

Polly is very gentle, and she has an air of confidence that makes me trust she won’t drop me. I can’t help but think that if I ever do get to live out my dream of going to nursing school, she is exactly the sort of capable nurse I’d like to be. We take it extremely slowly, and when she shifts my legs for me, the pain isn’t quite as excruciating as last night when I tried to do it myself. When she sits me up, I get that wave of lightheadedness that takes even longer to pass than last night.

“Are you okay?” Polly asks me.

“Uh-huh,” I manage.

She waits for close to a minute before I give her the go-ahead to proceed. Then she very, very slowly moves my legs off the bed. It’s going okay, but the second my left boot hits the floor, I scream in pain.

“Tegan.” She straightens up to look me in the eyes. “I’m really worried about that leg. Will you please let me take off the boot?”

She’s right. I’m sure she’s right that the boot needs to come off. Except at this point, it’s been long enough that I am overwhelmed with fear about what is under there. I’ve got this idea in my head that the boot is holding my entire leg together like a splint. And if she takes it off, my foot will just disintegrate.

“No,” I say. “Leave it.”

She gives me a look, but she doesn’t push me harder.

Polly brought a belt, presumably from her own closet. She ties it around my waist, just below the bulge of my belly, and she holds on to it as she shifts me from the bed to the chair in one controlled movement. Even though she’s being careful, the pain in my left leg from moving is enough to make my eyes water. But then we’ve done it. I’m in the chair.

“Look at you!” Polly says, her voice bright. “You got out of bed!”

Objectively, it’s not that stunning of an achievement, but right now, it feels like it is. Polly gets my legs positioned in the footrests, another agonizing adventure, but then I’m okay. I’m secure in the chair, and for the first time, I can move around the room.

“Thank you,” I say. “This is great.”

She smiles at me. “You’re very welcome!”

“So how do you use it?”

“Oh, it’s not rocket science.” She touches the push rim of the chair. “You just push them forward to move forward, back to move backward. If you want to turn right, turn the right wheel… You get the idea.”

I test it out, pushing myself the length of the room. It’s harder work than I thought, given my abdominal girth. But Polly is cheering me on.

“This is great exercise,” she tells me. “You should do a few laps across the basement.”

“Yes.” I run my fingers along the push rim. “I…I just wish I could leave this room.”

Instantly, the smile vanishes from her face. I shouldn’t have said that. We were bonding, and maybe this was an opportunity to talk to her about her husband’s abuse. But I can see those walls going up once again.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” she says. “I need to get started on dinner anyway.”

She disappears back up the stairs, but that’s not a bad thing. After all, I couldn’t really explore this room with her here with me. If she’s here, I have no chance of getting out of here.

Once the basement door slams overhead, I start exploring the room. Thankfully, Polly has kept the floor relatively clean. Aside from a small amount of furniture, I have a clear path to wheel myself around.

Some basements have doors inside that lead directly to the outdoors. Presumably, Polly wouldn’t leave me alone if I could get out through the basement, but maybe she doesn’t know about the door. It’s a bit of a long shot, but it could be my only hope.

I do a lap around the basement, but there’s no sign of a secret door. Figures. And as for the windows, they’re far too high for me to reach even if I could stand, which I can’t. But if I could get to my feet, I could stack some of the boxes in the corner and climb up there…

It’s stupid to contemplate that. I can’t stand. I could barely get from the bed to the chair with Polly doing all the work. And even if I could get up there, I doubt my belly would fit.

Yes, my number one priority is survival. I’ve got to get myself out of here, and I’ve got to save my baby. But I’m selfishly worried about the damage that’s happening to my ankle every day without medical care. If it’s broken, the bones are surely setting improperly. And I’m still not entirely sure if I can wiggle my toes, because I can’t see them.

What if my leg has permanent damage? What if I somehow manage to get free but it’s too late for the doctors to repair the damage? What if I need crutches for the rest of my life? What if the pain never gets better?

Okay, there are worse things. I can’t think about that right now anyway. I need to focus on getting out of this room. I need to do this for my daughter.

Please save us, Mama! I’m counting on you!

I can’t let her down.

I wheel over to the stairwell. The front wheels of the chair bounce uselessly against the first step. I’m not going up a flight of stairs in a wheelchair, that’s for sure. But now that I’m up, maybe there’s a way to climb the stairs. If I could lower myself out of the chair, I could use the strength of my arms to pull myself up the steps one by one. And maybe I could reach up and open the door at the top.

I grab the push rims, testing my weight. Can I do this?

No. No, I can’t. It’s just as hopeless as it was last night.

I can’t lower myself safely onto the stairs. Even if I could do it under the best circumstances, I can’t do it with this basketball on my belly. There’s too much weight. I’ll fall on the floor, which might hurt the baby, and then Polly will figure out what I was trying to do. She won’t let me out of bed ever again.

If I can’t get out of here on my own, there’s only one other thing I can do.

I’ve got to find myself a weapon.