The Last Girl: A gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist Page 8

  “They’re still looking for us?” Ashlyn asks.

  “Everywhere,” Mindy says. “What did you do?”

  “It’s a long story. We really need to get out.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  Ashlyn and I exchange gazes. I’m ready to use my knife if needed. I’m leaving this kitchen no matter what.

  Ashlyn tucks her hand in her pocket. She pulls out the oily note and hands it to Mindy.

  I’m appalled by her stupid actions, but it’s too late.

  Mindy takes the note, eyes on me, and then reads it. Her expression is bland. I can’t read it. I can only grip my knife harder.

  “Who has a daughter here?” Mindy asks.

  “Forget the daughter part,” Ashlyn says. “What about the rest?”

  “Manfred Toot? The Crib?” Mindy squints. “Is this a joke?”

  “Joke?” Ashlyn says.

  “Of course,” Mindy says. “What does this have to do with the soldiers looking for you?”

  “None of your business.” I step in front of Ashlyn and face Mindy. “What do you mean this is a joke?”

  “The Crib is a myth,” Mindy says.

  I roll my eyes. “Tell me something I haven’t heard before.”

  Mindy senses my tension. “It’s a spook story about an evil place that women fear the most,” she says, looking over my shoulder. “We all know that, Ashlyn. It’s all Meredith’s fault, the madwoman on floor six. She is the one who spread it among the nurses.”

  “Really?” Ashlyn says.

  “Of course,” Mindy says. “And this Manfred Toot is nothing but a boogeyman. He doesn’t exist. Come on, did you ever come across someone named Toot before? Toot. Toot.”

  I snatch the note back. “Nonsense. Let’s get out of here, Ashlyn.”

  “Yeah, we’ve wasted so much time,” Ashlyn says.

  As I turn around, Mindy taps me on the shoulder. I reflexively flip out my knife.

  “Whoa.” Mindy steps back, hands in the air. “I just thought I saw something in the note.”

  I notice my hand trembling while holding the knife. It must be the injections they give me.

  “Take it easy, will ya?” Mindy says. “I really think I noticed something that will help you.”

  Ashlyn snatches the note from my hand and hands it back to Mindy. “Here you go. What did you notice?”

  Mindy reads the note again. “If anything is true about this note, then it’s not the Crib or Toot.”

  “Then what is it?” I demand.

  Mindy meets my eyes. “It’s one thousand and one.”

  37

  “That’s it?” I say.

  “They sent Hecker to do something there a few times, but he wouldn’t tell me what. The place gave him nightmares, he said. Big Red calls the place the one thousand and one.”

  “Why?” I say.

  “No one really knows, I guess,” Mindy says. “But wait. Hecker told me the soldiers have a different name for it.”

  “Which is?”

  “The Furnace.”

  “The Furnace?” Ashlyn says.

  “Yeah, but that’s all I know.” Mindy points at the knife in my hand.

  I lay it on the table. I think I have more than I asked for. An explanation of what Toot is, and a location for what might be the Crib. Though my note says to kill Manfred Toot, which dismisses the possibility of it being a number, I have no choice but to follow the thread I’ve been given to find my daughter.

  “Do you know how we find it, the Furnace?” I ask Mindy.

  “Hecker said you can reach it walking parallel to the forest outside.” Mindy points outside. “Just follow the pine trees.”

  38

  Running on the muddy ground outside feels like waiting for a hole to swallow you. The darkness is as deadly. I don’t know if I should focus on the ground, the mist, the rain, or the soldiers who could be tailing us.

  “Do you think we can trust Mindy?” I ask Ashlyn, spitting out water.

  “We have no choice, do we?”

  “I agree. Hey, I think we’re closer to the forest’s edge.”

  “Really?”

  “Can’t you hear the faint crashing of waves in the distance?”

  “I think so.” Ashlyn takes advantage of her skinny figure, maneuvering through the dense trees. “I hope we’re on the right track.”

  “Me too,” I say, jumping to avoid a puddle of water. “I still don’t get it, by the way. This toot and one thousand and one thing seems a bit crazy.”

  “What isn’t? All this stuff I’ve heard and seen in the last hour is crazy,” She crouches under a canopy, and I follow her. “But then again, soldiers have private numbers on the island.”

  “So?”

  “Manfred Toot being John One Thousand and One means this is a soldier whose name is John and has number one thousand and one.”

  It’s hard to argue with the possibility. I hadn’t thought of it. So the man who wants to kill my daughter is a soldier named John, and I came to this island to save her? Did he kidnap her? How could I plan a plane crash to end up here?

  Nonsense.

  “Wait.” Ashlyn ducks suddenly and lies flat on her stomach.

  So do I. “What? Did you see something?”

  “Soldiers. Can you hear them?”

  “No, I can only hear the waves crashing.”

  “Listen.”

  “I’m trying, Ash. I can’t— Wait, I do.”

  “Let’s wait until they’re gone.”

  We wait. Not only do I hear soldiers, but Jeeps arrive afterward. It sounds like they’re still looking for us. The one advantage we have is probably their inability to drive into the forest. It will only buy us sometime, until soldiers decide to walk through. I have a feeling they won’t, or they’d have looked for me inside when I first met them. I’d like to imagine their heavy boots and machine guns will slow them down. True, Ashlyn and I will freeze soon in our thin scrubs, but we have no choice.

  A few minutes later, their voices grow farther, did they change directions, or do they have a short cut to meet us halfway? It’s hard to make out the words, so I don’t know where they’re heading next. It’s hard to imagine they’ll head toward the Furnace. How would they know where we are heading, unless Mindy has told them? I bite my lower lip, not trusting Ashlyn’s decision to leave Mindy be. We should have locked her in the storage room.

  After the soldiers leave, we stand up, covered in mud. Ashlyn lets the rain wash her muddy face, but I stop her.

  “What?” she says.

  “Use the mud as camouflage,” I tell her. “It will keep us invisible.”

  “Ah.” She raises a finger to her mouth. “Like in the movies.”

  I’m about to crack a tense laugh. “This isn’t a movie, Ashlyn.”

  “Ash,” she insists. “I like the name Ash, like Ashes.”

  “Okay, okay.” I wave my hands in the air.

  That’s when I see the building. It’s Ward Four, so far behind us, blurring like a creepy house in a horror movie.

  “So we lost our way.” She points at it.

  “Yeah,” I say. “We kinda went in a circle or something. I don’t know how.”

  “I guess that happens in such a disorienting forest,” she says. “Come on. At least we know we should go the opposite way.”

  “You’re right. Let’s go find the Furnace,” I say.

  More lightning strikes before I turn and follow Ashlyn. It lights up the form of Ward Four. It’s only for a second, but long enough that I glimpse a sign hanging on the top floor. The first two words don’t send shivers down my spine: Ward Four.

  It’s the words following that trouble me: Neurology, Psychiatry and Mental Illness.

  39

  “Am I a mental patient?” I run after Ashlyn.

  She speeds up, suddenly all energetic, maneuvering her small and light figure through the trees.

  “Answer me, Ash!” I reach for her shoulder but can’t stop he
r. “What is that I read on Ward Four?”

  “You read what?” She stops, rain trickling down her face. She stands on slightly elevated ground, so she looks down on me, though she is shorter.

  “I saw the sign on Ward Four. It says it is some mental institution.”

  She looks like she feels guilty about it but pretends otherwise. “So it’s a mental institution.”

  “You never said it was. Is Dr. Suffolk treating mental patients?”

  “So what?”

  “Why do you keep answering my questions with questions?”

  “Because I don’t get the point. The soldiers could come back any moment, but you want to chat about Ward Four.”

  I hesitate to say the words again. “Am I a mental patient?”

  Ashlyn takes a few breaths, looking around. I am not sure if she is scouting or trying to avoid my gaze. “Technically, you are.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re an amnesiac and most of your stories are conflicting, so you are, June.”

  I am at a loss for words. A million questions are in my mind, but I can’t utter one coherent sentence. “Come on.” She pulls on my hand. “We’re wasting time.”

  I pull away. “Not before one last question,” I say. My brain has come up with my biggest fear.

  “What is your question?”

  “Have I always been in here?”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Was I never on a plane?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean, am I imagining things? Are you playing along because I am some patient who’s been here all of my life, in this damned hospital on a fucking forsaken island? Is it all in my head? Do I even have a daughter? Tell me!”

  “June.” Ashlyn chuckles. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “So it’s true?”

  “No!” She hugs me tightly. “What made you think that? Ward Four has been a mental facility since World War II. Dr. Suffolk mainly handles soldiers with PTSD. There are so many of them on this island.”

  “Really?” I feel her hand on my back, and it makes me feel love. Not romantic love. Ashlyn’s touch calms my pain. Maybe I should have cried earlier, let it all out. Maybe knowing I have a daughter out there whom I can’t remember makes me want to scream and cry myself dead. I have kept it all inside, and Ashlyn’s tenderness helps so much.

  “Soldiers on this island go crazy sometimes,” she says. “The loneliness, the bad weather, and, of course, whatever secret mission they are working on here. It’s normal.”

  “But you said you’re a trainee.”

  “I am. They just let us train in the same ward for mental illness,” she says. “Who knows? Maybe later they’ll teach us to treat disturbed soldiers in the Crib. Just calm down and let’s get moving.” She touches my face and smiles at me. “Come on. We need to get to the Furnace.

  40

  The more we run, the more Ashlyn gets excited. I let her guide me through the bushes. Not only because of her agility, but because my mind is occupied. Ashlyn’s words didn’t persuade me a hundred percent. Only one thing stops me from giving in to the idea: the fact that the overwhelming feeling never leaves me. I don’t care about the notes, but I can’t ignore my gut. In fact, it is what has preserved my sanity until this moment. I suppose a mother’s love for her daughter is so instinctual and real that it destroys seemingly insurmountable walls of hardship and memories.

  “Look!” Ashlyn stops. “A river.”

  I stop, bending over and resting my hands on my legs. Following her pointing finger, I see a river streaming out of a small waterfall. “No one mentioned a river before.”

  “I didn’t know it existed, either.”

  “Do we have to cross it?”

  Ashlyn scans our surrounding left and right. “It looks like it.”

  “Are you sure? I mean you’re as lost as I am. Maybe we should find a way around the river.”

  “That’d be risking bumping into the soldiers,” she says. “I’m also lost, but I have a better chance of recognizing something to guide us.”

  “All right,” I’m still catching my breath when I glimpse a canoe by the side of the river. I point at it. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Ashlyn sees right away. “Well…”

  “A canoe?” I grimace.

  “What’s wrong with a canoe?”

  “It’s a bit too convenient, don’t you think?”

  “What does that mean? Someone must be regularly crossing the river. It actually suggests we’re on the right track.”

  “How so?”

  “Maybe this secret Furnace has only access through the river. If so, then a canoe makes perfect sense.”

  “All right,” I say. “Let’s do it. We’re wasting time already."

  I follow her to it. In the distance, I hear the faint shouts of soldiers. There is no point in thinking about it. I hurry to the canoe.

  “Have you used one before?” Ashlyn asks nervously.

  “Don’t be a chicken.” I wink, trying to sound calm. “Or is running all you can do?”

  She stamps a foot once, like a child. “I trust you, June. Don’t drown us.”

  We push the canoe into the river. It’s heavy. Ashlyn jumps in like an adventurous little girl. I wonder if she is an only child, or never left her house before coming to this island. Jumping in behind her, I almost miss the canoe because of the river’s strong current.

  “Can you row it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know.” I grit my teeth, doing my best with my weary arms. “I’m doing my best.”

  “Brave big sister.”

  That weakens my heart. The river is pulling us, fast, and I have no idea how to get to the other side. It would be a shame if we don’t make it, because it’s not far at all.

  It turns out I can row. Maybe I learned that in my past life. The problem is that I still can’t reach the other side. The current is too strong. We’re flowing away from the pine trees we should follow.

  Ashlyn screams. Before I can understand why, something happens. Something I can’t comprehend. A sudden, sharp pain in my arms, so sharp I lose my grip on the paddle.

  Slowly, I straighten my back. Ashlyn is still screaming. I realize we’ve crashed against a huge black rock that’s stopping us from going down the river.

  “Ashlyn, take my hand.” I stand up. My legs are wobbly, but I manage. I pull her closer. “Look, this is actually good. I couldn’t control the canoe, so we were just floating away from our destination.”

  “So?”

  “We’re only a few feet away from the other side of the river. I will climb on the edge of the canoe, so it shifts its weight nearer to the other side. From there, a jump will do the job and we’ll be safe. You only need to jump as far as you can. Do you understand?”

  She looks at the distance and says nothing. I turn and look. It’s not that far. With a little shift from the canoe, we can do it.

  “Tell me you understand,” I say. “I am not going to let something bad happen to you.”

  “I will try.”

  “No, you have to focus, Ashlyn. It’s going to only take a split second. Once I am on the edge and about to jump, you will have to jump with me. We can’t hold hands. It won’t help.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not going to make it,” She lets out a cry, trying to look behind her.

  I pull her face back to me and slap her. “Don’t do this to me,” I growl. “You will not die. I’m here for you.”

  Ashlyn’s neck stiffens. “Are you going to hurt me like in the bathroom again?”

  “No.” I sigh. “That was a mistake. Just trust in me. Can you do that?”

  “Why would you care about me?” She sobs as the canoe begins to shift underneath us. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I don’t know anything about my daughter either,” I say. “It wouldn’t stop me from taking a bullet for her.”

  “I
’m not your daughter.”

  “That’s true. But you’re my sister, right?”

  Her sobbing stops. She nods then hugs me.

  “Great,” I say. “I will count to three. Three is when I force the canoe to shift its weight. You keep a good eye on it. Once it’s nearer to the river’s edge…”

  God, I don’t know what I am doing. It’s a mad idea, but I’m a mad girl, aren’t I?

  I climb out on the rock, one foot on the canoe’s edge. It feels like walking on a tightrope. Ashlyn is struggling with her balance. Our weights aren’t evenly spread on the canoe now. If one of us gives in, we’re dead in the river.

  I push with my free leg, and the canoe begins to swerve, slowly. I push harder to loosen it from the rock. It breaks free sooner than I expected. I struggle not to fall backward, but balance by elevating my free leg higher.

  “Now!” I shout.

  “You said you will count to—”

  “I fucked up!” I jump with all my might. “Now!”

  I’m in midair for only a second, wondering why I left her behind—unless she manages to jump. Why didn’t I wait one more second to explain to her? Or hold her hand? Or even stick with her and not jump?

  I don’t know.

  I grab a rock by the river’s edge and hold on to it. The river tugs on my lower body, but I manage to pull myself up. I crawl over the rock for safety.

  Panting, I roll on my back, not bothering to look for Ashlyn. Tears trickle down my cheeks before they turn to cries, so painful I think I’ll faint. I lost her, and I know the reason why: because if I have to choose between a daughter and a sister, my daughter wins.

  41

  My eyes flip open again…

  I am still on my back. It’s dark, but I can see shadows over me. The metallic smell of blood is killing me. I keep coughing it out, so I don’t choke on it, and I still can’t move my left arm.

  “Mommy!” my daughter squeals again.

  “Hold on, baby. Mommy will protect you.”

  I realize I can only feel one arm. The right one. But it’s jammed under some heavy weight. I’m too weak to push or pull at it. My other arm is either cut off or numb. I don’t believe it exists anymore.