by R D Shah
‘An appointment with Marcus?’ Stanton blurted. ‘I wasn’t informed about any appointments.’
‘It was a very short notice thing.’ Harker guessed and drawing her attention to his still out-stretched hand.
Doctor Stanton gave him the once-over before finally shaking his waiting hand. ‘Nice to meet, you Mr Harker, and I doubt that explanation, because Marcus is one of my patients. So I would have been the first to be notified.’
Another round of fists now began banging at the door, whereupon Stanton beckoned Harker to follow her as she made her way up the steps to the exit. ‘Enough with the pleasantries. I need to get this place under control, and half of the facility is already in lockdown. Follow me.’
Harker followed dutifully, rubbing at the part of his head where a clump of hair had been used to pull him to safety. Stanton noticed this and briefly raised her hands.
‘Sorry about your hair.’
‘No need to apologise.’ Harker replied sincerely. ‘For all I care, you could have grabbed me by the ears. I’m just glad you got me out of there when you did. Thank you.’
The Doctor said nothing, merely smiled, and then continued up the stairs with Harker in tow.
‘If half the facility is in lockdown, how did you reach me so quickly?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t even realise you were here in the first place.’ Stanton reminded him. ‘I was up on the first floor when the lights went out, so I headed down to check on the patients and …’ Stanton reached into her coat pocket and produced a silver-coloured multi-key. ‘It helps if you carry one of these. Without it I never could have reached C-Wing, so that was lucky for you.’
‘I’ll say.’ Harker replied, with a deep sigh. ‘Well, Doctor Stanton, as you’ve seen for yourself all the doors down there have been opened … How is that even possible?’
‘It shouldn’t be.’ The physician replied and shook her head. ‘All the cell doors are automated, but they still require a manual override.’
‘So how do you get the inmates back into their rooms?’ Harker persisted
‘Patients,’ Stanton corrected, ‘and that will depend on whether any of the other wings have been compromised. If the breach in security is confined to C wing, then the five staff on duty with me tonight should be able to handle it, but if not, then we have a far more serious problem.’
‘The police?’
‘Yes.’ Stanton replied. ‘But if it is that bad, we will need every other member of staff brought in. We have one hundred and twenty patients here at Blackwater.’
‘Well, you should know that it’s now one hundred and twenty-one.’
Stanton stopped as she finally reached the stairwell’s upper doorway and she stared at Harker, clearly puzzled by his reckoning. ‘One hundred and twenty-one?’
‘Yes.’ Harker nodded. ‘There was someone else in C wing with me, and I would wager a guess that he’s the one responsible for all this mayhem.’
‘What! Are you sure it wasn’t just a member of staff?’
‘Not unless your orderlies have taken to wearing Halloween masks.’
‘Halloween masks!’ Stanton gasped, clearly unaware of that extra presence roaming loose in the facility.
‘Yes.’ Harker emphasised gravely. ‘I think you need to make calling the police your number-one priority.’
Stanton looked baffled. ‘Then we need to get to the front desk,’ she decided opening the stairwell door and heading through. ‘We can use the phones there and check the security cameras at the same time.’
The walk back to the main entrance took just a few minutes, the multi-key proving its worth by allowing easy access to three security doors along their way. Both Harker and Stanton were silent meanwhile and it was not until they had emerged into the fully illuminated hallway leading to the main reception area that either of them said a word.
‘That’s strange,’ Stanton murmured. ‘The blackout hasn’t affected this part of the building.’
Harker glanced over towards the reception area where he had originally met Nurse Decker. ‘Where’s the nearest phone?’
‘At the front desk,’ she replied, and they both hurried over to it with Harker reaching for the phone itself while Stanton began examining a series of security monitors ranged behind the counter.
‘Oh good God.’ Stanton cried in dismay, taken aback by the footage now being displayed. ‘Most of the cells inside the facility are open.’
Harker had already picked up the phone’s receiver but finding there was no dial tone, he dropped it back down into the cradle. ‘Phones are dead,’ he announced in frustration and then moved around to Stanton’s side of the counter to view the screens. What he saw was bedlam, literally. There were scenes of near anarchy as patients roamed the hallways, some fighting with each other whilst others seemed hell-bent on destroying anything they could get their hands on. Despite all this, the one screen which stood out revealed three men in orderly suits waving frantically up at the camera. ‘Where are they?’ he asked, pointing to the screen in question.
‘That’s the night shift,’ Stanton explained, taking a moment to scrutinise a board on the wall that was flashing with red and white lights – mainly red. ‘The red lights signify areas in lockdown, and they,’ she said tapping at the screen, ‘are members of staff trapped right in the middle of it.’
This revelation was disheartening and Harker was already contemplating the options when he heard voices approaching down the same hallway they had just come from. He grabbed Stanton by both shoulders and thrust her to the ground, then pushed her under the reception counter even as she fought against him.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she yelled, and Harker immediately slapped his hand across her mouth.
‘Quiet, there’s someone coming,’ he whispered, before he removed the hand and raised a finger to his lips.
Stanton remained silent, despite looking furious, and with a clenched fist she walloped Harker in the biceps. The punch was unintentionally weak and she glared at him through wide eyes. He raised one finger in warning and gestured to the source of the voices that were getting louder – one of which in particular was familiar to both of them.
‘You have to understand it’s almost a miracle that I was able to trap most of the staff on the ground floor at all.’ The voice protested.
Harker peered up through a gap in the desk to see Nurse Decker, who was following another man wearing a dark leather overcoat, black boots and a plain navy baseball cap. The unknown man’s chiselled face was rugged and weathered and had it not been for the emotionally dead green eyes and a deep scar running from just below the left eye halfway down his cheek, he could have been the magazine favourite of many a bored housewife.
‘The problem with that statement of yours is the word most,’ the man responded lightly yet sternly.
Behind him, Decker continued to plead his case. ‘You hardly gave me any notice, so what did you expect?’
The lack of respect in the orderly’s tone stopped the other man in his tracks only metres from where Harker sat watching them. He then swivelled on his heel and directly faced Decker, who lowered his eyes to the floor uneasily.
‘Now is not the time for you to grow a pair of balls ‘Nurse’ Decker, and instead what I expect from you,’ the man growled, ‘is competence … something you lack in volumes. You are paid a great deal of money to be ever at our beck and call – and don’t forget it.’
Decker looked genuinely nervous but his next words created a different impression altogether. ‘With respect Captain McCray, you don’t pay me that much.’
Without hesitation, the man named as McCray reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a handgun with a silencer and then promptly shot a bullet into each of Decker’s shins, dropping the man to his knees. The gun’s three-inch-long barrel was then brutally jammed deep into the orderly’s mouth, thereby and suppressing the man’s impending scream of pain before it even had time flourish. ‘Then, with respe
ct, consider your contract now rescinded.’
A flash from the gun’s muzzle lit up the hallway as a bullet ripped through the back of Decker’s skull, sending a red splattering of blood out on to the white plastic tiled floor behind him, followed closely by the twitching body of Decker himself.
Harker watched as, without so much as a pause, McCray continued past the reception desk and along the corridor, when a metallic banging sound brought him to a standstill.
Harker ducked his head back around to see Stanton steadying the metal waste-paper bin she had just knocked over, her eyes wide and panic-filled at further sounds that could only be attributable to a muffled gunshot and then a body hitting the floor. Harker raised a single finger to his lips before returning to scan the corridor, and what he saw there sent shiver down his spine. McCray was now slowly making his way back towards the reception desk, gun drawn and his neck craned alertly as he attempted to pinpoint the location of the unexpected noise.
Harker pulled back from the crack and promptly searched about for a convenient weapon, but the only instrument he could see was a spent Parker biro with a metal nib lying in the same waste-bin that the Doctor had disturbed moments earlier. Perturbed by his only choice of defence, he carefully picked it up, taking care not to rustle the crumpled bits of paper it sat upon, and clasped it with both hands like a knife.
Harker readied himself, as McCray made his way around the opposite side of the reception counter. As the man’s footsteps got closer, there was only one thought at the forefront of Harker’s mind. One solitary thought blotting out the fear that he surely should have felt.
How the hell do you disable an armed man with just a pen?
Harker was still debating whether to leap out and go straight for McCray’s neck or else stab him in the shin and then wrestle him for the gun, when he overheard the sound of a radio crackling.
‘Captain, the entrance doors have been secured and we have movement on the first floor. It could be Harker and the missing Doctor.’
Harker could hear McCray breathing heavily through his nose less than a metre above him, with only the thin wooden counter between them offering safe haven from a bullet to the head. There was no reply for what seemed like a couple of minutes before eventually a response was forthcoming.
‘This is McCray. Get back here to the main reception area and have the security doors unlocked. I’m on my way’
‘Does that go for all security doors, including the rest of the patient wings?’
‘Affirmative, let them loose. This situation needs to look like it was caused internally,’ McCray paused and stared down at the lifeless body of Nurse Decker. ‘And you’ll need a clean-up crew when you get here… There was an issue that needed to be resolved.’
‘Understood,’ came the reply, and with that the captain, as he had been addressed, casually made his way back along the corridor in the carefree manner of a man just out for a stroll.
Harker remained motionless until the footsteps had faded away, before slipping out from underneath the reception counter and then helping Stanton to her feet.
‘Who the hell was that?’ Stanton gasped as Harker dropped his token weapon back into the metal waste-bin.
‘I’ve no idea … and honestly right now I don’t care,’ Harker replied while cautiously peering out into the empty corridor beyond. ‘We need to get ourselves out of here now. Will your multi-key open up the entrance door?’
Stanton was already shaking her head. ‘No, the key is for internal doors only.’
This was not the response Harker had hoped for and now it was his turn to shake his head. ‘OK, fine,’ he said with a sigh. ‘If we can’t get out through the main entrance, then how about a fire exit?’
A glimmer of hope appeared in Stanton’s eyes. ‘We can get up to the roof through there.’ She was pointing to a green fire door on the opposite side of the lobby, ‘and there is also a set of fire stairs leading down to the car park.’
‘Good, then that’s where were going,’ Harker replied, encouraged by the news. ‘My car’s parked nearby.’
With a wince of revulsion at the bloody spectacle of Decker’s sprawled-out body, Doctor Stanton took the lead and headed across the lobby towards the green door on the other side. Suddenly a scuffling noise caught their attentions as down at the far end of the corridor, Captain McCray peeked out from round a corner with a pleased grin on his face.
‘Well, hello there,’ he exclaimed gleefully.
‘Run!’ Harker yelled in warning but McCray was already raising his weapon and they had to duck as bullets zipped over their heads and embedded themselves into the wall, launching puffs of plaster into the air all around them. Harker kept expecting to feel the sharp stab of a bullet thudding into his back but suddenly the zipping noises stopped and, just as they both darted through the green-painted fire exit, he glanced back to see why. At the far end of the corridor McCray was engaged in fighting off two of the asylum’s patients who had emerged through a nearby security door, which was now swinging shut. The taller one kept attempting to claw the gun from McCray’s hand whilst the second, stockier one – who Harker recognised as the Night Caller – was busy pounding at the Captain’s chest. The bizarre thing was that McCray showed no sign of flinching at all even as the Night Caller administered yet another powerful blow.
Harker tore himself away from the sight, now actually feeling glad that those maniacs were on the loose, and he took pleasure in knowing that the Captain was receiving a well-deserved beating. ‘Enjoy yourselves boys’ was his immediate thought as he followed Stanton up the stairs and through the fire exit door leading on to the roof.
The heavy downpour hit them like a wave as they scrambled across the rain-sodden rooftop and down a green metal set of external stairs. Most of the outside lights were still off and it was only the flashing of lightning overhead that enabled them to maintain their footing on the slippery metal steps. Harker had retrieved his car keys by the time the stairs reached the car park and was already pointing the clicker towards his BMW waiting in the corner. The car’s lights flickered in acknowledgment and he pulled open the driver’s door and slid inside as Stanton jumped into the passenger seat.
‘Where to?’ she coughed, brushing away the droplets of rain that were dripping off her forehead and into her mouth.
Harker jammed his finger down onto the oval start button and the car engine hummed into life. ‘Anywhere but here.’ He growled over the sound of rain lashing against the windscreen. He jammed the gearstick into reverse and then stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Bloody hell that was close.’ He had hardly said it before something crashed down upon the bonnet with such a force that the back of the vehicle lifted off the ground, then slammed down again with a heavy thump. Harker raised his head to peer through the cracked windscreen and came face to face with the lifeless expression of the Night Caller. The serial killer’s body was splayed out across the bonnet, but with one of his arms dislocated and bent grotesquely across the back of his neck.
Harker looked upwards to the top of the building above them but could not see a thing, the darkness of the night sky and the relentless pounding of the rain on his windscreen making it near impossible. He released the clutch and, in a flurry of spray and spinning tyres, began to reverse as a flash of lightning lit up the cloudy sky to illuminate the silhouette of a lone figure standing high up on the rooftop.
McCray glared down with his finger pointing towards them and, as the car came to a momentary stop, Harker locked eyes with the Captain just as the light faded into darkness before taking off at high speed down the length of the driveway, towards the main road and the Yorkshire hills beyond.
* * *
Back inside the asylum, Cliff Johnson was discovering for himself that the phone lines were all dead. The young orderly replaced the handset and exhaled a deep sigh of frustration. ‘Great,’ he murmured to himself, ‘what next?’ He was still considering what to do next and staring out through the wire-meshed wi
ndow, across the unlit grounds of Blackwater beyond, when two arms clamped vice-like around his body and a cold face pressed closely into the back of his neck.
‘I’m sure we can think of something,’ a voice whispered loudly in his ear. ‘Have I ever told you what wonderful eyes you have, Mr Johnson?’
Chapter 6
John Wilcox stared down at his cup of coffee and tapped its rim impatiently with his fingertip. He then sipped the last few drops and dumped it heavily back on the desk with a solid thud.
This was taking far too long?
He had left his third message over two hours ago and his patience was disintegrating fast. This was no way to be treated by one’s underlings, and especially now. He slammed his fist down hard on the desktop and let out a frustrated growl.
Heads would roll for this impertinence.
Wilcox next pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights from his shirt breast pocket, flipped open the lid and reluctantly pulled a cigarette from the packet and glared at it. He had never been much of a smoker but, after spending the past few months in this place and rarely seeing the light of day, he had needed a distraction and so had thought what the hell. He knew he had strong lungs and decided that a few months of smoking would do him no long term damage. Unfortunately, he had underestimated just how alluring the nicotine craving would become and his indulgence was now turning into a full-blown obsession. He tutted loudly at the offensive white stick of tobacco and was about to slip it between his lips when the iPhone next to him started to vibrate.
About time!
Wilcox tapped on the incoming call button and pressed the device to his ear. ‘Speak.’
‘John, it’s been a while. Where are you?’
The casually demanding tone of the man’s voice served only to fuel Wilcox’s already growing irritation.
‘Where am I? Where the hell are you? Not only have I been waiting hours for you to call but then you dare address me by my first name! You will henceforth refer to me by my title and show me the respect I deserve.’ Wilcox felt highly insulted by the caller’s informal manner.
