CHAPTER 24- CLOSING IN
“Man, you can’t do this to me!” Calvin shouted as Sheriff Wilkinson and two of his deputies escorted him up the concrete staircase leading to the main entrance of the Springwood Police Department. Ever since they had physically pried him away from Westin Hills, Calvin had not shut his mouth once, insisting they take a look at the big picture and help the teens still locked up inside the hospital. Assured by Dr. Graham everything was finally under control, Sheriff Wilkinson and company led their suspect back downtown to the station.
With his hands cuffed behind his back and his legs cuffed together, Calvin was clearly resisting arrest, but it didn’t seem to bother Sheriff Wilkinson or his deputies at all. They just kept on dragging him through the glass set of double doors and into the lobby, where the remaining officers on duty immediately took notice.
“Get your hands off me!!!” Calvin yelled, but was met by a glancing blow to the back of the head with a nightstick, bringing out a roar of pain as he fell to his knees in agony.
“Come on, get him up!” Wilkinson ordered, drawing everyone’s attention. “Get his prints and get him downstairs NOW!!!!”
“Yes, sir,” was the smug reply of the officers, who hauled Calvin to his feet and dragged him over to the desk to be fingerprinted. After getting the best prints they could muster, Calvin got a surge of adrenaline and tried to break free of his captors, but another shot with the nightstick ended that hope and Calvin collapsed to his knees once again.
“See, it would have been much easier my way,” the sheriff stated, grabbing him by the hair and slapping him hard across his face. “But no. You just had to do it the hard way. Well look at ya now. You’re nothing...You make me sick. Get him out of here!!!”
Opening the metal door with a creak, the two deputies led Calvin downstairs where a lone holding cell sat empty and dormant. Practically dead weight at that point, Calvin was barely even conscious as he felt his knees smack every step on the way down, adding to his already intense pain.
Tossed into the cell like a piece of meat, Calvin managed to get back to his feet, but not before Sheriff Wilkinson handcuffed him to the cot inside his cell. Then Wilkinson quickly exited the chamber, sliding the door shut behind him and locking it. The deputies, nodding in agreement with their superior officer, appeared ready to leave him there alone when Calvin broke the awkward silence, asking the obvious question.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he stated, toned down considerably from his earlier outbursts. “This ain’t about you or me. It’s about those kids up there at Westin. They’re good kids, and you’re locking me up in here to stop me from helping them? That’s pretty fucked up. You know as well as I do that I didn’t do a damn thing.”
“I suggest you tell that to your attorney,” Sheriff Wilkinson fired back, jiggling his keys in his face. “Don’t forget. You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you exercise that right, because you’re going to be in there for a really, really long time.”
Wilkinson could almost see the fire flare up in Calvin’s eyes as he groaned and then fell silent, realizing it was probably in his best interest to do exactly what the sheriff asked of him and shut up.
“What’s the matter? Nothing left to say?” the sheriff asked, mocking him further. “That’s what I thought. Come on boys.”
Pulling the main door shut with a creak and locking it, the officers quietly ascended back up to the first floor, their boots echoing on the stairs as they faded in the distance.
Man, it’s gonna be a long night, Calvin thought as he sunk his head into his hands. Rubbing the back of his neck with his cuffed hands, he had no idea how he was going to get himself out of this one and help his friends at Westin Hills. What do I do now? He pondered carefully as exhaustion began to set in. I have to help them somehow. But how? What can I do from in here? Yawning, he set his head down on the pillow and felt instant comfort from the throbbing inside his skull.
Pulling both his legs up on the cot as far as the cuffs would allow, Calvin stretched out and fell fast asleep, not knowing he had just helped them more than he ever could have awake.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the Westin Hills Psychiatric Hospital, newly-appointed guards Damian DeLorian and Jonah Singleton stood stoically at attention near the entrance to D-wing. Ever since Calvin’s arrest, Dr. Graham told them they weren’t about to take anymore chances. If anyone tried to enter D-wing, he commanded both of his orderlies to deny their request and bring them to him at once, by any means necessary.
But that was several hours ago, and both men were clearly feeling the effects of their nearly fourteen hour shift. After their former comrade Calvin was taken into custody, they figured their shift would be over and they could go home. But then Dr. Graham stuck this detail on them and practically ruined their entire night. However, on the plus side, he did promote them and give them significant pay raises for their trouble, so both Damian and Jonah figured they could last at least another couple of hours.
Taking a deep breath, the slightly taller Damian gazed over at his partner-in-crime, who was yawning, and they exchanged a knowing glance that said, “I wonder how much longer we’ll be here.”
Not even a second later, their tranquil night turned chaotic, as both their heads were rammed together with a loud thunk, knocking them both to the ground in a heap.
A familiar black trench coat then whipped around in the near-darkness as the Man in Black swooped down and felt their necks for a pulse. Both men registered faintly, but were unconscious, so the Man decided to continue about his business.
Pulling Calvin’s access card from his pocket, he swiped the card reader with a successful beep and entered the large control room. There, surrounded by a bevy of surveillance monitors and other electronic equipment, the Man calmly walked past the main security desk in the middle of the room and headed toward the door on the far right side. The real entrance to D-wing, the Man thought, swiping the card once again with a beep as the lock turned from red to green and unlatched.
Stepping through the door, the Man in Black’s jaw dropped at what lay inside.
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