Free The Warden by Madeleine Roux

their cries coalescing into the same phrase she had heard on that first awful night.
    â€œHelp her, help her, HELP HER!”
    She found them in Theater 7.
    Jocelyn leaped for the doorframe, anchoring her slick and unreliable feet by hoisting herself into the room. She didn’t want to freeze. It was the worst possible moment to freeze. Yet she couldn’t move. Madge was there, standing on the same operating table where they had bound and gagged Lucy. Below, arms out as if to catch her from a sudden fall, Tanner eased back and forth, eyes glued to Madge, who was swaying on the wheeled table.
    â€œCareful, doll,” she giggled. In her right hand she held a sleek, stainless steel hammer, the kind used with an orbitoclast for lobotomies. “You’ll fall! Don’t fall and hurt that pretty face.”
    â€œLet me get you down from there,” Tanner was saying, licking his lips nervously and trying to ease toward her. But Madge reeled at his slightest movement, the table shaking, threatening to spill her onto the floor. She swung the hammer, first at him and then at the open air before her.
    â€œWhy don’t you just come down?” he pleaded. Sweat glistenedon his forehead. The chanting grew louder, earsplitting, and gathering in speed. Jocelyn inched carefully into the room, hands up in surrender.
    â€œI saw him,” Madge was saying. She sounded scared. Little. “I saw Mickey Mouse, but where was Minnie? She wasn’t there. And she’s so, so pretty. So pretty. But now she’s cracked. Now she’s broken.”
    Jocelyn had nearly reached the pool of light cast by the operating bulbs, but Madge didn’t notice, swaying precariously on the gurney, her arms high in the air, hammer swinging like a pendulum.
    â€œJust come down from there and we can talk,” Tanner coaxed, still prepared to catch her if she fell, which was looking more and more likely.
    Jocelyn wondered if she could somehow climb up onto the table and tackle Madge, bring her down gently while also disarming her. But that seemed like far too much to attempt without either both of them hitting the ground from a height or Madge accidentally smashing her with the hammer.
    â€œBut he said I would see!” Madge shrieked. Her scream only drove the chanting higher, louder, and the words thumped at the base of Jocelyn’s skull.
    â€œHelp her, help her!”
    â€œCareful, doll,” Madge breathed, laughing, giggling, her voice hiccupping into hysterics. “Careful, doll! Careful! You’ll fall! Don’t fall and hurt that pretty face!”
    Jocelyn saw the hammer go up with more purpose this time, Freeman stamped into the shining steel. Both she and Tanner leapt for the table too late. Madge caught herself on theupswing, rocketing the hammer into her mouth. Teeth shattered, tiny bits of white falling on them like a shower of sand. Jocelyn tossed up her hands, screaming, watching through the splay of her fingers as the hammer landed again, this time dead center of Madge’s forehead.
    She was still giggling, giggling, giggling. Smash .
    Tanner grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her down to the floor as best he could, dodging the hammer blows that rained down indiscriminately. While he brought her to the ground, Jocelyn tried to reach for the hammer, but Madge struggled, her giggles turning into shrill arpeggio of screams. She dodged and bucked and smashed the hammer into her forehead again and again, until Jocelyn took a blow to the shoulder herself, finally wrestling the thing out of her grasp.
    The hammer had broken the skin, and the deep, dark bruising spread like spidery shadows from the middle of Madge’s forehead. The blood ran over them all as Jocelyn and Tanner pinned her arms, held her, her laughter dying down as the light seeped out of her eyes.
    â€œM-Madge, Madge, can you breathe? Oh God, can you breathe? Just stay with me, I’ll get someone. . . . I’ll get help.