by Amy Cross
"Hey," I call out, taking a step forward. As if startled, the figure disappears quickly from view. "Hey!" I say again, running over. To my surprise, however, I find that there's no-one in the next corridor. I'd assumed that all the old people in this place would be slow and lumbering, but this one definitely seems to be a little more sprightly.
"You must be the new night girl," says a voice right behind me.
Spinning around, I find a tall blonde woman smiling at me. She's wearing a light blue nurse's uniform, and she looks to be in her thirties or forties.
"I'm Juliet," I say, my heart racing.
"I know," she replies, smiling. "Charles told me you'd be around here somewhere. Sorry I took so long getting to you, but I was over on the blue ward. One of the patients had fallen over, and it was hell to get him up. Have you been okay?"
"Yeah," I say, glancing back along the corridor. "I thought I saw someone through here, though. I was gonna go and see if they were lost, but they moved too fast."
"It was probably just a trick of the light," she says. "None of our residents can move at more than a snail's pace."
"Huh," I say, convinced I saw an actual person in the darkness. "I swear it was -"
"Come on," she replies, putting a hand on my arm and leading me back to the rec room. "Let me guess. Charles told you almost nothing about what you're supposed to be doing here, did he? He set you loose with virtually no instructions, and expected you to work out your responsibilities along the way"
"Yeah," I say. "I did some cleaning."
"Typical Charles," she says, smiling again. She has a happy, friendly face that has already started to put me at ease. "The guy's always in a rush. He never has time to do anything properly. I guess he just plonked you down and told you to wait for me."
"Yeah."
"He could have at least made sure you had some training before you started," she adds as we reach the room and she peers at the top of the TV. "Wow, you really have been cleaning, haven't you?"
"Yeah," I say. "I think he tried to phone you to let you know I was here, but you didn't pick up."
"He did?" She pulls her phone from her pocket. "I guess. Do you have a phone with you?"
We quickly swap numbers, before Lizzie shows me around the rec room. She explains that there are three wards at Crestview, and they're all identical, so once I know one of them, I'll know the rest. She tells me that my job is basically to be her assistant, and to help her out with whatever needs doing. There are twelve residents altogether, with four on each ward, and during the day there's a team of nurses and porters to look after their needs; at night, however, budget cuts mean that only one nurse is on duty to cover the entire facility, with a 'night girl' hired to help out. My priority has to be to keep listening out for any sign that one of the patients has woken up; as Lizzie explains, sometimes one of them will wake up and go for a wander, and our main job is to just help them back to their room.
"You'll be surprised by some of them," she says. "You might think old people are boring, but this lot are a real bunch of characters. They've all lived such full lives, and just because they're old, it doesn't mean they've lost their personalities."
I smile, not really knowing what to say.
"You're nervous," she continues. "That's fine. It's good to be nervous, it means you're taking the job seriously. Just remember to take things slowly, and don't be afraid to ask questions if you're not sure about something."
"Okay," I say.
"There's also Mrs. Brown," Lizzie explains as we walk along one of the corridors. "She used to be one of our most interesting residents, but about two months ago she started to deteriorate. She's very close to death, unfortunately. Part of this job is dealing with that kind of thing. It's hard the first time, but you get used to it. Do you think you can handle being around people when they're at that stage, Juliet?"
"Sure," I say, although to be honest I'm kind of terrified at the thought of seeing someone die. I've seen someone when they're close to death, but I've never seen the moment itself.
"Don't worry," she replies with a smile. "It gives you a new perspective."
"What's the deal with the other ward?" I ask, stopping as we pass the sealed-up door that leads to the abandoned ward.
"We don't use that part of the building," she says. "Come on, I'll show you the office."
"Why don't you use it?" I ask.
"Various reasons," she says, seeming a little evasive.
"Is that where the girl died?" I ask, peering through the window.
"I think so," Lizzie says, gently taking my arm and leading me away. She clearly doesn't want to talk about it, and I can't say I blame her. "Charles left some forms for you to sign." She glances over at me as we walk. "I know it seems like a lot to take in, but you'll get used to it. My first day was crazy, but I quickly settled in. The most important thing to do is to just follow your head. Be logical, and consider the needs of the residents. Just because they're old, don't assume they're dumb, and never forget that they all have feelings. Most of them are frustrated, because they still have fairly sharp minds but their bodies are starting to fall apart. I don't know if you've been around old people very much, but it can be quite an eye-opener. When they get into their eighties and nineties, many of them start experiencing some very major difficulties, things that don't get discussed much in public. Embarrassing things. Humiliating things. Our society tends to push these things out of sight. It can be a sad thing to see."
"I'll do my best," I say.
"Treat them the same way you'd treat anyone else," she continues. "At the same time, remember that they can be tricky sometimes. Not all old people are sweet and lovely."
"I know," I say as we reach the reception area. "My grandmother in Connecticut is a bitch." I immediately regret saying that; I can tell from the look in Lizzie's eyes that she disapproves. "I didn't mean it like that," I add quickly. "I mean, she's difficult, but I didn't mean that she's a bitch. She's just..."
"Relax," she replies, leading me into the office. "Some people are bitches. Just try not to use that kind of language when you're at work. It doesn't always go down well with the residents. They're kind of old-fashioned, for the most part. Even a word like 'damn' can get some of them worked up. They were just born in a different era, but it's something to keep in mind."
"Sorry."
She smiles as she looks for the papers on the desk. "I guess he forgot to leave them," she says after a moment. "One thing you're going to have to learn about Charles Taylor is that he's the most disorganized manager in the history of the world. When he says he's done something, it usually means he's planning to do it, or he think he might do it at some point in the next few days. It very rarely means he actually has done it."
I smile awkwardly, feeling as if I still don't quite understand the full extent of my role. I figure my best bet is just to follow Lizzie around and let her show me what to do.
"It's almost midnight," Lizzie continues, "so we're going to have to go on a quick check of the wards. I'm going to throw you in at the deep end, okay? Go and walk around the red ward, and make sure no-one's up. If all the doors are shut, that's a good sign. Go to each of the rooms, open them very gently, and make sure that each resident is okay. You have to make sure you can either hear them breathing, or see the bedsheets rise and fall. Don't worry about waking them up, most of them are sound sleepers. You've got my number, so you just call me if there's anything you need, okay? If there's any kind of problem, don't try to sort it out yourself. Call me. Understood?"
I stare at her for a moment. "By myself?"
"By yourself," she says, smiling. "It's really not a big deal, Juliet. You seem pretty sharp and on the ball. Just make sure to ask if you have any doubts at all, okay?"
"Yeah," I say, though I really don't like the idea of doing this by myself. "I don't know," I add, "maybe if you came with me the first time, just in case I get something wrong..."
She shakes her head. "You'll be fine."
"Sure," I say, feeling absolutely terrified at the thought of going into the residents' rooms by myself, but aware that I mustn't let the fear show. "Okay."
"Great," she continues, leading me out of the office and over to the corridor that leads to the red ward. "Good luck. You'll do a great job. I'll be in the green and blue wards, doing pretty much the same thing that you're doing, so don't hesitate to give me a call if there's anything you want." With that, she pats me on the back and walks away, leaving me standing alone and staring into the gloom. After a moment, I turn to ask her if maybe she could reconsider and come with me, but to my surprise I find that she's already disappeared down one of the other corridors.
"Great," I mutter, taking my first tentative steps toward the red ward. I feel totally unprepared for this kind of thing, and it's a little bit like I've just been thrown into my first shift without any training at all. I'd expected the first night to be a little more mellow, with a less steep learning curve. As I reach the first door, I take a deep breath and tell myself that this is just a job, and there's no reason why I can't be a success. I put my hand on the door handle, but it takes me a moment to psych myself up to the point that I can actually go inside. "Okay," I whisper to myself before finally pushing the door open and peering into the darkness.
Chapter Two
Eleven years ago
"You've got a stain," says my father, kneeling down and examining the spot of ketchup that dropped onto my dress during lunch. I'd hoped he might not notice, but now he seems pissed off. Grabbing a napkin from the table, he spits on his finger and starts trying to get the ketchup out. It doesn't help that my dress is white.
"Sorry," I say, glancing over at the waitress behind the counter. She smiles when she notices me, but then she goes back to cleaning the coffee machine.
"It's okay," my father says, clearly getting stressed, "but you want to look your best for Mommy today, don't you? She's been waiting almost two weeks to see you, and I told her all about your new dress." He finishes wiping the stain away. "There. Most of it's gone. You're proud of your new dress, aren't you?"
I nod. I don't really care very much about the new dress at all, but my father wants me to care, so I make the effort.
"We should get going," he says, glancing at his watch. "Juliet, can you wait right here while I go to the rest-room?"
I nod again.
"Don't wander off," he continues. "Don't talk to strangers. Don't do anything. Just stand here and wait for me, okay? I'll be two minutes, maximum." He turns and hurries over to the rest-room, leaving me standing by our booth.
"You going somewhere nice, honey?" asks the waitress, smiling.
I look over at her.
"You're all dressed up," she adds. "I wish I'd had a pretty little dress like that when I was younger. Is it new?"
I stare at her. She's a stranger, but I'm pretty sure it's okay to talk to her. After all, she's not a man. Still, I've always been told not to talk to people I don't know, and I really don't want to get into trouble. Not today, of all days.
"I'm going to the hospital," I say eventually.
"Oh," the waitress replies, and I can see the hint of doubt in her eyes. Suddenly she's not sure what to say. It's kind of fun to see how I've put her off her stride.
"It's not for me," I continue. "It's for my Mom. She lives there."
"Does she?" she replies. "Well, I hope she doesn't have to live there for much longer."
"I don't think she will," I say.
"That's good." With that, she turns and starts wiping the counter. I guess she doesn't want to talk to me any more, which is fine.
Glancing over at the rest-room door, I see that there's still no sign of my father. I turn to the table, take the ketchup bottle, squeeze a dollop onto my finger, and carefully add a small red dot to the shoulder of my dress. Wiping the rest of the ketchup off my finger, I smile as I look at the dot. It's small, no bigger than a penny, but my father will definitely notice it eventually, and then he'll get into that funny mood again where he's clearly mad but he doesn't want to be angry with me. Sometimes it's funny to make my father get a little mad, especially on a day like today.
Chapter Three
Today
The room is so dark, it takes a moment before I can make out the shape of a bed. As my eyes become accustomed to the gloom, I finally see that there's a person under the bedsheets, but I don't hear any snoring. I take a tentative step into the room, but the person still seems completely still and quiet. It'd be just my luck to stumble upon a dead resident on my very first night. Creeping closer, I desperately watch for any sign of the bedsheets rising and falling. I swear to God, if this person turns out to be dead, I'm quitting.
Suddenly the figure in the bed sniffs and rolls over, and then he opens his eyes and stares straight at me.
"Sorry," I say, taking a step back. "I was just..." My heart is pounding and I have no idea what to tell him. "Just go back to sleep. Everything's fine. I was just checking on you to make sure you're alive." Once I've backed out into the corridor, I pull the door shut and stand completely still, listening out for any sign that the man might be getting out of bed. After a moment, I turn the handle and open the door again; I immediately see that the man in the bed is still staring at me.
"Sorry," I say again, quickly pulling the door shut. "Fuck!" Deciding the best thing would be to just leave him alone, I walk along to the next door. Fortunately, this time I hear snoring as soon as I step into the room, so I back out and move along the corridor until I reach another door. Just as I'm about to check the third resident, I glance over at the final door and realize that it's already slightly ajar. Hurrying over, I look inside the room and immediately see that the bed is empty.
"Great," I mutter under my breath. "A walker."
I turn and make my way along the corridor, determined to find the missing resident. I mean, these people are all in their seventies or older, so I really don't see how one of them can be too difficult to track down. It's not like he can climb out through a window, or even walk very fast. Surely this has to be the easiest part of the job, right? When I get to the next junction and realize there's no sign of him or her, however, I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up Lizzie's number.
"How's it going?" she asks, her voice a little distorted over the choppy connection.
"One of the rooms is empty," I say. "Room 109. The door was open when I got here, and there's no sign of anyone."
"Room 109 is Mr. Jenkins," Lizzie replies. "Did you check to see if the bed felt warm?"
"Uh, no," I reply, hurrying back to the room and putting my hand on the sheets for a moment. "Kind of," I say.
"Then he hasn't been out for too long," Lizzie says. "Mr. Jenkins is one of the more active residents. He tends to wander off quite a lot, but he'll be somewhere in the building. If the others on the ward are all asleep, you're going to have to go and walk around the corridors until you find him. Remember, he could be anywhere. Some of the residents get a little confused, and they make some odd decisions. Check cupboards, check behind the sofas in the rec room, basically check any space that a human could fit into. Seriously, don't under-estimate the capacity that these people have for slipping into weird places."
"Okay," I say. "I'll go take a look."
"But don't worry too much," she continues. "Mr. Jenkins is a nice guy. You won't have any trouble with him once you find him. Just watch out for his wandering hands. He gets a little frisky sometimes."
Once I've put the phone away, I start wandering the corridors, keeping an eye out for any sign that Mr. Jenkins has passed this way. I look in every cupboard and under every table, and I check the rec room twice over. After half an hour, I head back to his room, just in case he's made his own way to bed, but there's still no sign of him. I start checking all the external doors and windows, but I don't see how he could possibly have got out of the building. Still, if this guy's hiding somewhere, he's doing a damn good job. I take out my mobile p
hone and look for Lizzie's number as I head along to the corridor where I started.
Just as I'm about to hit the Call button on my phone, however, I see the door to the abandoned ward up ahead, and this time it's open. Whereas earlier there was a padlock over the handles, and tape stuck all around the edges, now the door has been unsealed. I stare ahead at the dusty, brightly-lit corridor, and it occurs to me that this is really the only part of the building I haven't checked yet. Grabbing hold of the door, I take a look at the padlock and find that although it has been opened, there's no sign of a key. I guess maybe someone forgot to lock it up properly, and now Mr. Jenkins has taken the opportunity to go for a midnight wander.
"Mr. Jenkins!" I call out, leaning through the doorway. I'm immediately struck by how the abandoned ward feels quite a lot colder than the rest of the building. Above, a long electric strip light is buzzing and flickering. Frankly, I don't feel much like wandering around in a bunch of deserted corridors, but at the same time it seems like this is by far the most likely place for Mr. Jenkins have got lost. I try calling Lizzie on my phone, but this time she doesn't answer. Figuring I'd better show some initiative, I step through into the abandoned corridor and immediately feel that something's different; it's as if the air in here is different somehow, or the energy of the place is slightly off-kilter.
"Mr. Jenkins!" I call out, desperately hoping that he'll come running to me once he hears a friendly voice. I walk along the corridor, and it feels like I'm the first person to come into this part of the building for a long time. When I get to the first junction, I glance around and see nothing but another set of corridors. I really don't see why Mr. Jenkins would have come down here, especially since it's so cold compared to the hothouse of the rest of the building, but I guess maybe some of the old guys around here aren't entirely logical. I open a nearby cupboard, half expecting that there'll be an old man coiled up inside, but the only thing I find is a small furry blob that appears to be a mummified rat.
