Chapter 8 - Scheduled to Disappear
The transport form had no doctor's name, no diagnosis, and a departure time of 2:15 a.m. In the corner, somebody had stamped it with the initials E.M.—Emergency Movement.
Hazel examined the ink. “They've already decided you won't be here tomorrow.”
I held the form against the light. One line had been scratched out so hard the pen tore the paper. I could still make out a destination: CEDAR HOUSE.
“Is that a hospital?”
“Used to be a recovery center,” she said. “Private place beyond the quarry. Closed to the public two years ago.”
My heart thumped. A closed clinic receiving living patients was not a mistake. It was a system.
When Nurse Amara came for morning medication, I held the paper where she could see it. She read it and briefly shut her eyes.
“You need a documented medical reason for a transfer,” she said. “If they claim you're suicidal, they can move you for observation before your lawyer gets here.”
“I'm not suicidal.”
“I know that. You must say it plainly if anybody asks.”
She wrote down my vital signs in front of another nurse, then asked me to repeat that I did not request medical transport. Two witnesses. A date. A record with my voice attached.
At lunch, Colson entered with a hard expression. “Calder, pack your belongings.”
“For what?”
“Administrative move.”
“No,” I said loudly enough for the tables to hear. “I am not requesting medical transport. My attorney knows I have been threatened.”
He moved closer. “You do not give orders here.”
Rhea stood. Then Hazel. Then three inmates I didn't recognize.
“We heard her,” Hazel said. “We heard the whole thing.”
Colson looked from face to face. He was deciding how many witnesses he could control.
Finally he smiled. “Very well. We'll let the doctor decide.”
May you like
The officers took me to the clinic rather than the transport gate. It felt like a victory until Amara placed a clipboard on the examining table.
The top sheet was a psychiatric hold order signed by a physician who had retired the previous year.
