Jioni ran—the building was dark inside like most unused buildings were; the windows were nailed and boarded up, and the hallway lamps didn’t work. Jioni had memorized the way in the dark but forgot that it was Emmitt’s first time here; she went back and held his hand; Jioni’s eyebrows pulled down, and her face wrinkled in disgust: his hands were sweaty. All the running and climbing had worked him out—maybe.
“The second floor is where we have to go. Right now, we are on the third. So not too far,” Jioni said. She let go of his hand and wiped her own hand on her jeans. “Follow me. I’ll try not to walk so fast.”
Jioni’s leaned against the stairwell wall and made slow steps down.
“I can keep up. See, I’m fine.” Emmitt followed, though his steps were even slower.
Jioni put her hands on her hips. How were they supposed to escape and evade if Emmitt acts like he never stepped outside the clinic a day in his life? Jioni reached the second floor and waited for Emmitt to come down. She held onto his sleeve this time and walked into the hallway. “Ok, it’s always the fifth room to the left….”
Jioni’s voice trailed as she heard something unusual—Kathy was always the only person in the building, and only her and Brandon knew Kathy would be there; Brandon wasn’t there, so what was the noise? Jioni stopped and pushed Emmitt back; she listened out: faint screaming, thuds, and pops; Jioni hastened. The dreaded dog whistle echoed; Jioni gathered more momentum and busted open the door, leaving Emmitt behind.
