Chapter 4 - THE ESCAPE THROUGH THE BASEMENT TUNNELS
The air inside the supply room was thick with the smell of industrial detergent and old wool blankets. Leah stood frozen beside the metal bassinet, her hands clamped over her mouth to stop the jagged sobs tearing at her throat. Her surgical stitches felt as though they were ripping apart from the inside out, burning with a hot, salt-water pain that made her knees buckle.
Inside the plastic basket, the baby stirred, letting out a small, high-pitched mewl that sounded like a kitten caught in a drainpipe.
Leah dropped to her knees beside him, her fingers flying over the edge of the blanket to tuck it tighter around his tiny shoulders. "I've got you," she whispered against the soft fuzz of his head, her tears dripping onto the coarse hospital cotton. "I swear to God, I won't let them have you."
Through the heavy oak door, the murmur of voices continued, punctuated by the dry, crisp rattle of papers being turned on a clipboard.
"The magistrate is waiting in the administrative annex," a third voice said—a deeper, bureaucratic rumble that Leah recognized as Mr. Vance, the legal counsel who handled all of Doreen’s real estate acquisitions. "Once Mrs. Carver signs the relinquishment form under the medical advisory clause, the birth certificate can be reissued with Nathan as sole custodial parent and Doreen as legal guardian of the estate."
"And Leah?" Nathan’s voice asked.
"She’ll be transferred to the residential care facility in Crestview by morning," Vance replied smoothly. "By the time she’s discharged from their observation program, the adoption and guardianship orders will have passed through probate without contest. It’s cleaner that way. No public scandal for your firm."
Leah’s mind raced through the narrow room, searching for an exit that didn't lead back into the hallway where the bailiff was standing guard.
Her eyes fell on a narrow ventilation hatch near the floor, half-hidden behind a stack of blue surgical gowns. The metal grille was secured with four flathead screws, but one of them was missing, leaving the corner hanging loose by a rusted hinge.
She remembered Simone’s parting words from earlier that afternoon, whispered while the nurse was out of the room: “If they ever try to box you in, Lee, look for the service drops behind the laundry chutes. Every old hospital in this city was built during the depression with tunnels for the coal carts. They don't use them anymore, but the locks on the maintenance doors are twenty years old and rusted through.”
Leah didn't hesitate. Ignoring the blinding pain in her lower abdomen, she dropped flat onto her stomach on the cold concrete floor, dragging the bassinet toward the corner by its safety strap.
Using a heavy metal staple remover she found in the supply tray on the shelf, she jammed the flat end into the loose corner of the grille and twisted. The rusted screw gave way with a dry, metallic snap that sounded in the small room like a pistol shot.
Outside the door, the footsteps stopped.
"Did you hear something?" Doreen’s voice asked, sharp and suspicious.
"Just the radiator," Nathan replied. "The pipes in this wing are ancient."
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Leah pulled the grille away, dropping it onto a pile of folded sheets. The opening behind it was dark, smelling of damp earth and old copper pipes, but it was wide enough for a human body to crawl through if they were desperate enough.
She reached down, scooped her son out of the bassinet, and pressed him against her chest inside her oversized hospital gown, wrapping the blue blanket securely around his face. Then she squeezed feet-first into the dark metal shaft, pulling the grille back into place as best she could just as the handle of the main door began to turn.
