“I know you’re dead Danny,” she said to his blank expression as she put her hand over his eyes and closed them. Then as an after thought she looked over her shoulder at the twitching and writhing of the man laying an arms distance from her, every nerve in his entire body screamed to just die. Relief would not come for another hour.
She turned back to the dead Danny and said, “No more. No more am I going to say I don’t know. No more.”
The woman with no name got up and brushed off most of the dirt from the alley and stepped over the soon to be dead whispering man and took assessment. She looked at the Panzer Messer O.T.F. knife and an underground map to who-knows-where and calmly walked to the nearest street intersection and watched the hustle and bustle of New York Life. They all have names she thought and I too should have a name, every person born should have a name. This thought only held long enough to get easily bumped out by, what was the reason why she didn’t know her name? She had to find out. Maybe she was kidnapped? Just maybe she was a runaway and bumped her head and some family was terribly worried about her? Yeah, and maybe she didn’t just kill a man in the most horrible way and not care how long it took him to die. And why was it every time she tried to think beyond the cold tile floor, before the bed and the warm shower, the necklace, it would loop back on itself, change direction. What she needed to do was go back, go all the way back to that cold tile floor and bed and room. It was the only way her mind would be clear. For once she was going to do something on her own and not an automatic response. She was going to find out who she was even if it killed her.
This time when she asked directions she looked the person directly in the eyes and she could tell when it was the truth by the subtle way they looked away or to the side let her know fact from fiction. With this newly discovered knowledge she made it to East Seventy-Seventh street and in front of the glass doors of Lenox Hill Hospital. Through these doors she moved almost as if in a dream that opened her eyes and senses to a world of sights and sounds strangely familiar, yet remote, cold, and filled with liars, thieves, temporary friends and even murders and killers. Which one was she, or was she a composite of all of them? And maybe this reason to find out who she really is, is just another involuntary reaction? How could she tell? With that large load of confusion she moved through the long hallway of Lenox Hill Hospital. The clear tap, tap, tap of her shoes on tile over concrete was steady enough to attract the attention of the security guard. He watched the seemingly confident blonde New Yorker move toward him next to the elevators. Little did he know she was scanning the residents names and assessing departments as she moved along. She was taking in information, filing and storing it for instant access.
“Can I help you miss? Miss?”
“Yes, I’m with Otis,” she answered matter of factually as she looked down on the kick plate edging of the elevator.
“Otis?” the guard repeated, “Otis who? What floor is he on?”
“Otis is on every floor, and Otis is not a he, it is a what. That what carries you, the staff and all the good people who work here safely to work seven days a week. Otis is your elevator. I’m here for a routine inspection. I need to do this under actual conditions, and that means not drawing attention to myself. Is that clear security guard?”
He looked at her, then her dirty clothes.
“It’s an occupational hazard. I have to make sure you and your staff are safe. Sometimes it takes getting a little dirty.” She looked to see his reaction, but didn’t wait, “Your name is?”
“Uh, yes mam, Mathius, I’m Joe Mathius. I’m kinda new here and I don’t need any trouble. It’s my first job.” said the six foot four young man in a uniform that was made for a six foot man. His charming look faded at the confidence of the blonde woman standing before him.
“Are we clear?” she said as she pushed the down button on the elevator.
“Yes, mam,” he answered with the respect he felt due to this working V.I.P.
She stepped into the elevator and at the last moment an old woman got on with a little boy. She held the boy close, as if she didn’t want anyone touching him.
“Push five, honey” she said and waited. Together they rode in silence to floor five, then she let Otis take her down to the basement floor, only this floor was not the basement she came from.
The basement she stepped onto was not the basement she left from, as a matter of fact it was at least one level floor down. She waited for the elevator doors to close and then looked at the door that led to a descending stairway. It had a key lock. The woman determined to go from no name to any name looked at the basement door as an opportunity and not a dead end. She looked around at the stacked boxes of supplies, the cleaning equipment and even broken medical monitors and noticed one that had a thin toothed bracket along its edge, about three inches long. Also she spotted bailing wire that held an old crate together. It didn’t take long to use field expedience and fashion picks to defeat the pin tumbler lock in 8.5 seconds flat.
With the door open she stood on the first stone step and noticed every lower step down was far older than the rest of the hospital steps, almost as if everything were built on the foundation of the past.