Page 54 of Paging Dr. Hart
Shelly’s hand comes out to clasp my wrist and tug me closer. She’s seen the threat.
“Hey, pretty girls. Why don’t you wait up?” a deep voice asks from behind.
We ignore the question, walking faster. I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security. Even though I work on the Strip, I’ve rarely been afraid. Most criminals avoid the crowded Strip because there are too many tourists as witnesses and the police are always out patrolling. Now that we’re in this isolated parking lot, I see how easy it is to become prey.
Louder, with a tinge of anger, the man says, “Hey, I’m talking to you. Why don’t you stop and we can have a little chat?” The rest of the men snicker as their footsteps quicken.
My heart begins to race. I refuse to look behind me, afraid that if the mensee my fear they’ll be like sharks scenting blood in the water. A primal voice in my mind is screaming,danger, danger.
Shelly’s hand grips my wrist so tight it’s painful, but I don’t shake free. When I glance over, I see her face pulled tight. Her lips barely move when she whispers out of the corner of her mouth, “Get ready to run to the Starlight. No matter what, don’t let go.”
Before I can fully comprehend the instructions, Shelly cries out a sharp, “Run!” She pulls me by the wrist toward the abandoned casino side entrance where a single door sits propped open by a rock.
The first couple of steps, I stumble, thrown off by her sudden change in direction. Then I regain my footing and we are off, our legs pumping and feet pounding. We head to the doorway.
Angry exclamations from behind make me glance over my shoulder at the men pursuing us. It’s a rough-looking bunch, with dirty clothing and thin limbs. Stubble covers unshaven jaws, and yellow teeth gleam as the men follow.
One man, in particular, is close behind us. In my terror, time slows down and I see with hyperintense clarity the skull and crossbones earring that dangles from his earlobe. The Skull Man pins his eyes on me with sharp focus and grins. “No point running, pretty little bird. We’re going to catch you.” He’s not breathing hard, even though he’s running.
We reach the door. For an agonizing minute, Shelly drops my wrist so we can enter single file. After we have burst into the dim hallway, we grab for each other, fumbling in the darkness until our hands find one another again. We hold on for dear life and take off.
The sound of the Skull Man slamming the door open happens seconds after Shelly drags me around a sharp corner and down a litter-strewn hallway.
“Little bird, where are you?” The man’s voice echoes, bouncing off the walls. The other men’s laughter follows.
Shelly leads us deeper into the first floor of the casino. We try to head up a stairwell but come to a halt because it’s blocked by debris. A homeless man at the base of the stairs is passed out, not stirring as we run past.
The smell of smoke fills my nose as we rush past a room where old burn marks crawl up one wall. Another room has an empty bed frame in its center.A different room is full of chairs, stacked on one another all the way to the ceiling. We run past room after room, all dead ends.
The farther we go, the more helpless I feel. I can still hear the men behind us, getting ever closer. Skull Man calls out in a singsong mocking voice, “Come out, little bird. Come out, wherever you are.”
Shelly opens a door, seemingly at random, and drags me into the room. As it closes behind us, I’m blinded, surrounded by complete darkness. I pull out my cell phone and turn on the light. We’re in some sort of utility closet. Dusty boxes and old cleaning supplies are piled haphazardly along the back wall. There’s no way out except for the door we just passed through.
“I’ll call 911,” I tell her.
“No!” she exclaims. “The police will never get here in time. Besides, how are we going to explain our clothing and the $1,000 dollars of cash in my pocket? They’re going to think we’re prostitutes. I don’t want to get arrested.” Her voice is shrill with panic.
Shelly’s right. I can’t go to jail. I whisper desperately, “What are we going to do, then? This door doesn’t lock.” I rotate the useless doorknob. The men’s voices are getting closer. “They’ll find us in here, eventually.”
Shelly is moving boxes in the back of the room, piling them on top of each other to construct a tower. “Shut up and help me,” she says curtly.
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Why? What good is that going to do?”
“We need to get up there.” She points to the ceiling.
Angling my phone light up, I can just make out the shadowed edges of a rectangular depression in the ceiling. Looking closer, I realize it’s a small door. The kind of hatch you use to access an attic or crawl space.
Understanding dawns on me. I quickly help Shelly place the boxes in a tall pile. We scramble up the boxes, which partially collapse under our weight, until we reach the hatch. She digs her fingers under the edge and pushes up, grunting with effort. After what seems like hours, the door pops open with a squeal. A fine rain of dust falls on our upturned faces, making us cough.
She pulls herself in, with me shoving from behind. I turn off my phone and lift my arms to be hauled up by Shelly, scraping my bare midriff as shedrags me over the wooden edge. The cut burns and stings. A warm trickle runs down my belly, telling me I’m bleeding.
Silently, we let our eyes adjust to the darkness. I kick over the boxes and gently ease the door closed. The springs that control the hatch give a loud twang as it swings shut, startling me. Hopefully, those men didn’t hear. We’ve been enclosed in a tomb, surrounded by nothing but blackness and dust. Our harsh panting fills the air. I strain to listen for clues to the men’s location.
It doesn’t take long before the door to the supply closet bangs open. “Oh, little bird, are you in here?” Skull Man sings into the small space.
Another man asks, “Anything?”
“Just a closet,” says the Skull Man in a more normal voice.
