She shuffled into the room pushing her mop and bucket and looked up. Suddenly she felt a tightness in her chest and everything began to swirl around her. Unconsciously she reached for the arm of the guard to steady herself. The room was empty. He asked her if she was sick. For a moment she said nothing as her mind reeled. Then, as she regained her balance, she let go of his arm, excusing herself. “I’m a little under the weather. What happened to the patient?” she asked, trying to sound casual, as though only curious. “Probably upstairs,” he replied disinterestedly. “They said to clean the room just the same.” Ping was scarcely aware that she was mopping the floor. Upstairs could mean two places, either the operating rooms on the 11th or 12th floors or the patient rooms on the 4th and 7th. She had learned that the transplants usually took place in the middle of the night when fewer people were about, so the young lady was probably on the 4th or 7th being prepped. She finished the room and the next two and then was taken to the other side to clean. This was where the young American man was being held. She had not communicated with him at all, fearing that his youth and testosterone might tempt him to try to escape on his own, which would certainly result in his capture and death. But now she knew what she must do. As she had with the woman, she slipped the tightly rolled message into one of the small holes in the sink drain. Then she glanced over at the American and tilted her head toward the sink – twice. When they were walking down the hall she turned to the guard and told him she needed to use the restroom. There she pulled out the cell phone that they had given her to use if something went wrong. She had to wait in a stall until the restroom was empty. Then she dialed, finally hearing a voice on the other end.
What do You think about Two Peasants And A President?
