Chapter 43
“No.” Martina is looking around as if to find someone, anyone but me, who can make it make sense.
“Martina,” I say, but she doesn’t respond.
“Doctor!” I shout, and that makes her look in my direction.
“This makes no sense.” Her features are washed out by the glow from the flashlight, rendering her a picture of fear in black-and-white.
“Listen to me. I understand that you’re scared. But there is no harmless explanation for this. We have to get out of here. Because right now, we’re sitting ducks.” I enunciate every word, hoping she’ll be able to take in half of them.
“We can’t.” The light from her phone is vibrating. Her hand is shaking.
“Yes, we can,” I insist. “I know there’s a flood warning, but I think that might be a risk we all have to take.”
She stares at me. Her eyes are gigantic in her pale face.
“No.” Martina shakes her head. “I mean we can’t. The gates.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “What about the gates?”
“They’re electric.” She wets her lips.
“The gates … are electric,” I repeat dumbly, my mind flashing to those cast-iron gates.
So pretty and ornate. Not high enough that you couldn’t climb over them if you tried, but …
“You can’t open them manually?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.
“No,” she says. “They can only be opened with the button.”
I run my hands through my hair, then down my face, trying to think.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“No,” Martina moans. “No, no, no.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, hoping it’s not a lie. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she says, her voice a low whine. “It doesn’t … because who would…”
“That doesn’t matter right now,” I say, my voice harsh and tight. “We can figure all that out later.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” she repeats. “I help people. We help people. No one would want to do this. No one would want to hurt us.”
“Jesus Christ, of course people would want to hurt you,” I shout. “You’ve hurt them! How many people have you broken here? How many people have you bankrupted? It could be any one of them!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Martina says weakly, but I keep going.
“Look at the way you treat your patients!” I spit out. “You drug them, you steal from them—”
“I have never stolen from anyone!” Martina protests hotly.
“What about Pernilla’s wedding ring?” I throw it in her face.
“I didn’t take her goddamned ring!” Martina responds. “I encouraged her to take it off! I’m holding it for her, because there are no safes in the cabins, and she was scared one of the rest of you would take it!”
I’m momentarily thrown off, but then I snap back into focus.
“Okay, fine, but it doesn’t matter. Someone is here, and there are countless people it could be.
It could be a former partner of one of your patients, out for revenge.
It could be an employee you fucked over, like Dr. Nina.
It could be a random person who just realized there was a whole group of women isolated in the woods and decided to pounce on the opportunity.
It doesn’t matter who it is, we just need to get everyone together and leave! ”
“What do you mean, Dr. Nina?” Martina stares at me.
The rain is smattering against the thin wall. The hollows under her eyes have grown cavernous.
“What do you know about her?”
“I know you fired her, and then threatened her. Those little notes you have been sending to her drove her to closing her new practice and moving. That sounds like plenty good enough motivation to want to get back at you.”
“I never—what?” Martina asks.
Lightning flashes outside the window, temporarily illuminating the small room in harsh black-and-white.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “That scared me. Whatever. Can you please take your phone and call the police? Tell them to send someone. Anyone. Even if the regular cars can’t get through the flooding, they must have something. A fire truck. A tank. Anything.”
Martina shakes her head slowly, as though it’s on a hinge.
“If the electricity is out, that means the landline is down.” Her voice sounds strangled. “And the signal booster, too. We won’t have any reception.”
“So…” I don’t finish my sentence.
We’re stuck.
No one is coming.
“Shit,” I whisper.
The wind is making the walls shake. For a second, I feel like the room is beginning to spin.
But then I hear it.
All the way on the other side of the corridor.
The front door, opening slowly.