Nate reels off various theories he’s heard during the last few minutes as we head into the auditorium. I opt to sit at the end of an aisle, an easy position to make a quick getaway.
“Well, shit…” Nate mutters. “This can’t be good.”
I follow Nate’s gaze to see Sheriff Brady talking with Principal Wire on the stage in hushed tones. Principal Wire looks like he’s aged ten years overnight, his wrinkles more pronounced than usual. The excited chatter becomes more subdued as the chairs fill up. Four police officers guard each of the doors around the edge of the room. What’s happening?
Principal Wire takes the podium and taps the microphone twice, causing a silence to descend.
“Students, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” he says. “We’ve received some alarming news that myself, the governors, and the sheriff’s office consider necessary to share for your safety. Please listen closely.”
He passes the microphone to Sheriff Brady. Sheriff Brady has held his position in the county for as long as I remember. He’s as short as he is wide, with a gray handlebar mustache and red cheeks.
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the sheriff says in his thick Louisiana accent. “But there’s been an incident at Sunnycrest Asylum. A number of patients escaped last night.”
The crowd draws a sharp intake of breath. Some girls even gasp and clap their hands over their mouth in horror.
Sheriff Brady took the lead on my sister’s case. Although he had good intentions, his investigation was a mess, giving me zero faith he’ll be able to track down multiple criminals when he can’t find one teenage girl.
“Wait, doesn’t your dad run the asylum?” Nate whispers.
I slouch in my seat.
“Silence!” Principal Wire roars. “Pay attention!”
“These patients are extremely dangerous and pose a threat to our community,” the sheriff continues.
“How many of them?” someone shouts.
“What do you mean by ‘threat’?” another yells.
I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to escape. It’s built like a fortress and designed to be unescapable. That being said, the Titanic was an unsinkable ship and look what happened to that. Every design has its flaws, and the asylum is full of patients who aren’t afraid to exploit any weaknesses they find.
“That’s all the information I can provide at this time,” Sheriff Brady says. “However, let me reassure you that the sheriff’s office has the situation in hand. We are working closely with the asylum to ensure the patients are apprehended. Until all prisoners—I mean, err, patients—are located, we are imposing a nine p.m. curfew for the town, effective immediately. No one should travel alone, unless absolutely necessary, especially women. In the meantime, I ask you to remain vigilant. If you see anyone you don’t recognize or any individuals acting suspiciously, report it to the police immediately. But, most importantly, remember that there is no need to panic.”
Telling us not to panic has the opposite effect. Total chaos erupts. People complain about the unfairness of the curfew.What about hockey practice? What about my dinner plans? What about my birthday party?There are so many questions.Too many for him to answer. His eyebrow ticks nervously. He tries to hide it, but he’s worried. All of the officers are.
I grip my seat, struggling to take in the news. There are more than one hundred patients in Sunnycrest. The chances of the men I met in the shadows skulking around Pasturesville are low, right? My blood turns to ice as I remember they know my name.
“Quiet!” Principal Wire steps in to thwart the hysteria. “The academy will set up a buddy system to ensure no one walks to their cars alone. All students should travel in pairs. Until further notice, all extracurricular events, including the music concert, are canceled. Your parents have been informed, and we have officers stationed at the school for extra security until all patients are found to help you feel safe.”
But we’re not safe. None of us are.
“We will keep you updated with any news. Until then, you should all return to your classes,” Principal Wire says. “I want you to continue your day as normal.”
“Fat chance of that,” someone scoffs.
An asylum breakout is the biggest event to happen in Pasturesville in years.
“Are you okay?” Nate asks gently. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I say, pulling my blazer tighter around my body. “Just a little cold.”
When we get up to leave, Ms. Chi heads straight for me.
“Erin,” she says. Her brow crinkles with concern. “Can I have a word?”
“I’ll catch you later, Erin,” Nate says.
“Aren’t we going back to class?” I ask as Ms. Chi walks in the opposite direction.
