Never slept.
Just sat there on the couch most of the night.
Didn’t hear a damn thing.
Around 6:30 in the morning I finally heard footsteps out in the hallway.
Got up off the couch and started toward the door.
Before I even reached it I heard a key hit the lock.
Door opened a second later.
Older guy in a suit walked in pushing a breakfast cart.
Never looked surprised to see me standing there.
Z was still asleep in the bedroom.
Guy looked over at me before leaving.
“Miss Z has a meeting at eight.”
Another pause.
“Tell her not to be late.”
Then he walked back out into the hallway.
Door locked again right after he left.
Didn’t like that sound any more in the morning than I did the night before.
Made her a coffee after that.
Brought it into the bedroom.
Set it down on the bedside table and quietly said her name.
She woke up slow.
Small smile when she saw me.
Still not sure if that was for me or the coffee.
Told her breakfast was ready whenever she was.
Also told her not to forget about our meeting at eight.
She looked up at me after that.
“Our meeting?”
Just looked her back in the eyes.
“Where you go, I go.”
And I left her there with that.
Went back out to the table.
Few minutes later she finally came out carrying the coffee.
Still looked exhausted.
Just a little more human now.
Started talking before she even sat down.
Said she didn’t really understand what the job was when it started.
Thinks she still didn’t completely understand it now.
Told me she was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one working on whatever this was.
Never saw anybody else though.
Just requests.
Random objects.
Pieces that didn’t seem connected to anything.
Sounded like other people were probably getting pieces too.
Like somebody somewhere was putting something together without anybody seeing the whole thing.
Said she’d been using every contact she had trying to track things down.
Couldn’t tell people who she was working for directly.
Said most of them figured it out anyway.
Burned through almost every favor she had getting this far.
Some people just hung up on her the second they realized who the client probably was.
Customer was getting impatient.
Threatening to make sure she never worked in this field again if she didn’t finish.
Then she got quiet for a second.
Just stared down into the coffee.
Finally said:
“Then the client said to me...”
Another pause.
“Who do you care about, Miss Z?”
Think that was the moment I finally understood why she sounded different every time she called me from this place.
We both finished eating.
Took showers.
Got dressed.
Unlocked the door and headed down to the meeting.
Don’t even know why I’m bothering to write any of this down.
No guarantee anybody’s ever gonna see it.
No guarantee we’re getting out of here either.
Could end up ironic.
Just another set of lost journals nobody finds for fifty years.
Like the good doctor’s.