“She doesn’t need your help! You ruined it for the last time…”
Zoey screamed, flinging the door wide and running out into the dark hallway. Whoever was chasing her must have turned the main breaker off.
As her screams filled the hallway, she heard startled yells from others, calling out to ask what was wrong. Red lights over the doors started blinking as the other patients pressed their emergency buttons.
As she continued to run down the hallway, she chanced a look over her shoulder, seeing a large shadow running after her. If she kept running, he would catch her.
Gathering every ounce of courage she had, she stopped and turned to face her attacker, positioning herself the way she had been taught and practiced.
The red glow highlighted a face she had never seen before. His rank breath was so powerful that it took everything she had not to turn her face away.
He ran at her so fast she knew he intended to knock her to the ground again, so when he was within arm’s reach, she grabbed his shirt as she swung her leg forward, nailing him in the stomach, using all her strength. She then sent him flying over her shoulder and was running again before he hit the floor.
Pressing the metal door bar, she pushed the door to the stairs open and went down the steps as fast as she could. She was one step away from the bottom when the bottom floor’s door opened and a dark silhouette filled the doorway.
Screaming, she started to run back up the steps, but was caught before she could.
“Zoey, it’s me!”
Sobbing, Zoey turned, flinging herself into Stump’s arms. “He’s here!” she cried into his chest. “Mrs. Combs… I had to leave her to get help—”
“Ice and Max are going up the other side. Creed, get her out of here.”
“No, I have to make sure—”
She was handed over to hard arms as Stump ran up the steps, other booted feet following after him. She tried to break free so she could go check on Mrs. Combs.
“Zoey, you can’t help anyone in the dark! Help me find the breaker box! The police are on their way. Do you want them shooting Stump by mistake?”
“I think it’s in the back room in the basement.” She stopped fighting when a light flashed from Kent’s phone, showing the door.
Pointing at the flight of steps leading downward, Kent took her hand as they descended.
“Which way?” he asked when they came out the door.
“To the left.”
Hurrying, they passed the laundry room and the equipment room, coming to a small room that was standing wide open.
Kent lifted his phone higher so they could see better. It only took a second for him to begin switching levers, flooding the basement with light.
“I think I got them all.”
Kent then ushered her out of the basement and up the steps, into a sea of police officers who had them retreating to the side of the wall to keep from getting mowed down. They found themselves frisked, being asked who they were and why they were inside the building.
Zoey haltingly explained that she was a private sitter and what happened when she’d woken.
“I’m a friend of Ms. Mathers,” Kent told the officers. “I was the one who called in that someone had broken into her house three weeks ago. I was sitting in my car, waiting for her to get off, when I saw the lights go off. I called a police officer and then a client of mine who has a security team. He lives closer, and I knew they would get here quicker to aid Zoey.”
Satisfied with their explanations, the police escorted them outside, despite Zoey’s protests that she needed to check on Mrs. Combs.
Borrowing Kent’s phone, she called Patrick, who said he was already on his way. He had been trying to call her to ask if he could be a little late and had decided to come back because she hadn’t answered his text or calls.
Zoey’s heart thudded in her chest when she saw the paramedics waiting outside were finally allowed in.
She was waiting in the back of a police cruiser when she saw Patrick pulling in. Getting out of the car, she ran toward him.
“They won’t let me inside to check on your mother.”
“Stay here. I’ll see if they’ll let me.”
Creed got out of the police car to stand by her side as she watched Patrick talk to one of the officers by the door.
She swallowed hard when Patrick’s expression changed from concern to anguish.
“I let him down. She didn’t make it.”
“You don’t know that.” Kent wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she braced herself for Patrick’s walk back toward her.
“She’s not okay, is she?”
“She didn’t make it, Zoey.”
“It’s all my fault. I fell asleep. I let you down. You trusted me to look after your mother—”