When she finally found her footing and her vision began to clear, she realized that two male attendants were holding her up, and they were inside what looked like a stone tunnel. Greenish-gray mildew striped the walls, and rusty pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping a brownish fluid onto the floor. Dusty lightbulbs in metal cages emitted a weak, jittery glow, and the cave-like odor of mold and wet rock filled the air. Except for the lights and the lack of graffiti, the tunnel looked like the crumbling passageways beneath the old tuberculosis hospital.
“No,” she cried, struggling to get away. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”
The attendants tightened their grip. “Take it easy,” one of them said. “We’re just taking you back to your ward.”
“Please,” she said. “You have to listen to me. There’s been a terrible mistake. I’m not Rosemary. I’m her twin sister, Sage. You have to believe me.” She tried to make eye contact with them, tried to let them see that she was perfectly normal and rational, but they kept their gaze straight ahead, intent on doing their job. The attendant on her left was taller and older, with a gray ponytail and a diamond stud in his ear. The one on the right had a youthful, innocent face, with pimple-pitted skin and a strong jawline. He looked like he belonged in high school.
Neither of them responded.
“Please,” she said again. “If you take me back to Dr. Baldwin’s office, he’ll explain everything. You can’t do this to me.”
“Shut up,” the gray-haired attendant said. “Dr. Baldwin’s the one who told us to put you back where you belong.”
“But I’m not Rosemary,” she cried.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “That’s what you always say. Let me guess, your name is Sage.”
Oh God. Had Rosemary told everyone her name was Sage? “Yes,” she said. “It is. Please, I’m begging you. I’m telling the truth. My sister Rosemary was sick. She didn’t know what she was talking about.”
The gray-haired attendant squeezed her upper arm and shook her hard. “I said shut up,” he snarled. Then he directed his attention to the younger attendant. “That right there is one of the most important things you need to remember if you want to make it past your first day.”
“What’s that?” the young attendant said.
“Don’t believe anything these retards say.”
Sage started to protest again, but stopped. Trying to reason with them was pointless. They were only doing their job. Instead, she focused on paying close attention to where they were going, searching for markers or numbers on the walls so she could find her way back to the administration building if she got the chance. But every tunnel they went down looked the same, and they took so many twists and turns, going this way and that, it felt like they were inside a giant maze.
Finally, they came to the end of a tunnel, where a corroded sign above a rusty door read: ENTRY KEY REQUIRED. The gray-haired attendant dug a ring of keys out of his pocket, then unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a narrow staircase of crumbling stone steps. The attendants took her up the steps and stopped at a landing with another steel door. While the older attendant unlocked the latch and deadbolt, she glanced back at the stairs, wondering if she could make a run for it. She could probably get away from the older attendant if she got back into the tunnels, but the younger one would surely catch her. And she had no idea where to go anyway.
As if reading her mind, the gray-haired attendant pushed open the door and yanked her through it. They came out into what looked like a supply room lined with shelves, mops, buckets, and industrial-size barrels of Pine-Sol. After relocking the door, the attendants led her out of the supply room and into a tile-floored space surrounded by an L-shaped counter, where the air smelled like sour mops, disinfectant, and something that reminded her of dirty diapers. Somewhere, someone shrieked. Someone else moaned. Another wept. Goose bumps rose on her arms. What kind of place was this?
At the counter, a red-haired woman with a bulbous nose turned in her chair to look at them, a cigarette in one hand. When she saw Sage, her penciled brows shot up and her mouth fell open, her red lipstick like a circle of blood. She looked like someone who feasted on orphaned children and puppies. She stamped out her cigarette in a metal ashtray and stood, smoothing her nurse’s uniform.
“Holy shit,” she said. “They found her.”
“Looks that way,” the gray-haired attendant said.
“Where was she?” the nurse said. Her dull hair color was clearly a dye job, and the layers of makeup she wore did little to hide her crows’ feet and sagging jowls.
“Don’t know,” the gray-haired attendant said. “Baldwin didn’t tell us. Maybe we should ask Wayne.”
The nurse rolled her eyes. “Like he’d admit anything.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to poke around a bit,” the gray-haired attendant said.
The nurse shook her head. “I’m not asking him. I was already on his shit list once. That was enough for me.”
Struggling to push aside her fear, Sage repeated the name in her head. Wayne. She needed to remember his name. “Who is Wayne?” she said, trying to sound rational. “And why would he know anything about my sister’s disappearance?”
“Here we go again,” the gray-haired attendant said, annoyed. “Had to listen to that bullshit all the way over here.”
“Because it’s true!” Sage said. She looked at the nurse with pleading eyes. “Can you please help me? I’m Rosemary’s twin sister, but no one believes me. Someone from Willowbrook called my stepfather to tell him she was missing. That’s why I came here, to help look for her. But Dr. Baldwin thinks I’m her and he wants to lock me up.”
The nurse ignored her, keeping her attention on the gray-haired attendant. “You know the drill, Leonard,” she said. “Either ignore them or agree with them. It’s the only way to shut them up.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Leonard said. “I know. Want her in the same ward?”
The nurse nodded. “Yes, but be careful. Norma’s at it again.”
“Great,” Leonard said. “Just what we need.”
Behind the nurse, out in the hall, a female attendant pushed a high-railed white crib filled with babies past the counter. The babies were all different ages, from a few months to a year old. Three were sitting up, two were lying down, and one was standing up and crying, his tiny fists clutched around the iron crib rails. Two of the babies had the wide forehead and almond-shaped eyes of Down syndrome, one was missing both arms, and another looked blind. Sage watched them pass, horrified. Maybe the rumor about taking babies away from teenage mothers was true.
“Why are there babies here?” she said. “Is this a hospital or a school?”
The attendants and the nurse acted like she didn’t exist.
“We still on for tonight?” the nurse asked Leonard.
“Hell yeah,” he said. “We gotta show this young stud how to party with the best crew at Willowbrook.”
The nurse smiled at the other attendant. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“Dale.”
“Nice to meet you, Dale. I’m Vicki, but everyone calls me Nurse Vic. Welcome to Stalag Six.”