Mirrors by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online

a totally different zone, deluded by fanciful images that connected with a reality only privy to her. Austin felt his frustration rise. He briefly thought he might have a better chance at searching for Christy on his own.
    Time was running out and he was getting nowhere.
    “Alice—”
    “It’ll be okay,” she said.
    “No, you don’t understand. Maybe you can’t understand. This place is not okay. It’s dangerous and we have to leave as soon as possible.”
    “You can see too.”
    “See what, Alice? What!?”
    “The key. The way out. I saw the lamps.”
    Austin’s heart lurched. “There’s a key? Where? A key to what?”
    She searched his eyes, apparently fascinated with him.
    “Where’s the key? Please, Alice. I’m begging you, just tell me where.”
    Her smile softened.
    “In the basement,” she said. “Where I was.”
    His mind spun. “You mean where I saw you with Fisher?”
    She looked at him a moment, then spoke in a calm, reassuring voice.
    “It’s going to be okay, Scott. I promise.”
    Scott? He took a step back from the gurney.
    “I’m not Scott. Who told you my name is Scott?”
    “When you came in.”
    “But I didn’t tell you my name was Scott. Fisher told you my name was Scott?”
    Alice’s eyes shifted to the ceiling as if something there was drawing her attention. He followed her gaze but saw only the florescent lights.
    Still no one at the door, but someone could walk in at any moment.
    His mind spun with Alice’s words. She’d called Christy ‘Alice.’ And him ‘Scott.’ But that was explained easily enough. Fisher had worked on her before readmitting her. Schizophrenics had highly suggestible minds.
    Unless by when you came in she was referring to their being admitted at the same time, which, according to the administrator, they had been. Yesterday morning. He, Christy, and Alice, all new cases at Saint Matthew’s. Him being Scott, and Christy being Alice.
    Only problem was that couldn’t be. He was Austin. Always had been; always would be.
    “I’ve seen it,” Alice said, smiling gently at the lights above them. “I’ve been there.”
    The hinges on the door behind them creaked and Austin went rigid. For a moment he refused to turn. He was only hearing things.
    But then he turned and he knew: the door was open.
    Fisher stood in the entry, considering Austin with a flint-hard face, arms loose at his sides.
    He closed the door quietly behind him, then calmly removed his glasses, blew a speck of dust from them with a single puff, then returned them to his face. Without speaking a word, Fisher approached a wheelchair in the corner, his hard-soled shoes clacking against the tile.
    If he was surprised by Austin’s attempted escape, he didn’t show it. It was as if he’d expected as much.
    Fisher reached the wheelchair, bent down to unlock the wheels, swung it around, and pushed it toward them.
    Austin stood unmoving, feet rooted to the hard floor. He wasn’t sure whether to run away or rush the man. Neither, of course. He didn’t stand a chance against Fisher, who was twice his size.
    Even if he was able to get out of the room, then what? Break down every door until he found Christy? Get on the elevator and stroll out of the building? His logic had delivered him to the upper level, but it now failed him completely.
    Fisher stopped three feet away, strangely calm. He looked at Alice, who wasn’t paying either of them any mind. Her gaze was still on the ceiling. But Fisher had to know that she’d spoken. The implications settled into Austin’s gut like a steel shot-put.
    His attention drifted down to the wheelchair in front of him, then back up to Fisher, whose eyes were back on him.
    “Sit down, Scott,” he said. There was no anger in his voice. No malice, no emotion.
    Austin hesitated. “My name is Austin Hartt.”
    “You really want to play games with me?” Fisher asked.
    No , he thought. I don’t want to play games with you.
    But Austin’s mind was