They caught up to the nurse, her keys rattling in her shaky hands as she approached the door.
"Are they really back?" she sputtered, fumbling for the right one.
"Yes! Hurry!" Tom shouted.
The nurse located the correct key, speared the lock, and turned. The door clicked. Tom fell to the floor, gasping for breath, Abraham beside him.
The din of nurses and patients drifted from somewhere behind them.
"That's the most running I've done in years." Abraham forced a smile.
"Tell me about it." Turning to the nurse, Tom said, "We need to block this door."
The nurse, a pudgy woman in her fifties, was still shaking. Dyed blonde hair spiked out from the sides of her hat. Tom glanced at the nearest rooms, searching for something they could use.
"What's your name?" he asked, searching her uniform for a nametag.
"Tabatha." The keys rattled in her hands.
"Is there anything else we can use besides nurses' carts, Tabatha?"
"We can probably wheel the beds out," Tabatha suggested between thick breaths. "They're easy to maneuver. Then we can lock the wheels."
Without further prompting, Tom and Abraham got to their feet and followed Tabatha. They located several beds in empty rooms and wheeled them into the hallways, positioning them against the door, fortifying the barricade with some nurses' carts.
Tom spun. The hallway behind them suddenly made him claustrophobic. He glanced at the walls, as if they might come alive and compact him.
"We should get back to the others," he suggested.
"That's a good idea. We need to make sure all the patients are in their rooms," Tabatha agreed. "Kelsey filled me in on what's going on."
They hurried back through the corridors. As they ran, Tom contemplated their lack of weapons. They needed something to defend themselves with.
"Is there anything up here we can use as weapons? Preferably something made of silver?" he asked Tabatha.
Tabatha fell behind them, her eyes wide and manic. "Silver? Jeez, I-I don't think so. I mean, we have syringes and scalpels. Scissors. But they're not made of silver, I don't think."
"In that case, we'll need anything sharp we can get our hands on," Tom said. "And we'll need it quickly."
Chapter Five
Most of the patients' doors were closed when they got back to the occupied wings, but a few patients still lingered in the hallways. The nurses coaxed them with varying degrees of success.
One man in particular was ranting and raving, causing a scene. He threw his meaty arms in the air, shouting at Kelsey.
"Sir, I need you to calm down," Kelsey told him.
"You need to back off and leave me alone!" the man shouted.
Seeing Kelsey's dilemma, Tom scrambled toward her.
"He says he won't be trapped in here," Kelsey said in a conspiratorial whisper, frustrated. "He's threatening to go outside."
"Outside?"
"He's convinced the police are still out there, and that they can protect him."
"The police are dead."
"That's what I told him."
Tom shook his head. He stared at the irate patient. The man was tall and out of shape. His bald head reflected the gleaming lights in the hallway. While Tom was talking to Kelsey, the man grew more agitated, and he backed against the wall, harrumphing at Tom and Kelsey. Abraham stood behind Tom.
"I'm going to help Kelsey," Tom told Abraham. "Go check on Sally and the kids."
Abraham took off in the opposite direction.
Tom approached the bald man, holding up his hands to try to calm him down.
"Who the fuck are you?" the man asked Tom, eyeing his hospital gown.
"Another patient. I'm just trying to help."
"Help with what? What the hell are you going to do? We need the police."
"We need to keep calm. That's the only way we're going to figure this out."
"You can't boss us around. The only people who can help us are outside!" The man waved his hand at the floor, as if the police might appear in front of him. "We need them to protect us! Where the hell are they?"
"They're dead," Tom said simply.
The bald man scoffed. "That's what this nurse tried to tell me. It can't be. I didn't hear any gunshots; I didn't see any bodies… You're full of shit."
"The bodies are outside by the front entrance. Look out the window, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Everyone who was guarding this building is gone."
"I—" the man bit his lip as he processed the information. "That can't be right. What about the others?"
"The other policemen are out looking for survivors. They're nowhere close."
"Well, call them!"
"We have no service," Tom said. "What's your name?"
"Dustin."
"Listen, Dustin, we're going to secure the floor and make sure everyone is safe. Have you seen these things before?"
Dustin nodded.
"Then you've seen firsthand what they can do. They'll rip you apart without giving you a chance to scream." Tom watched the man's face turn from anger to fear. "Will you cooperate with us?" Tom was surprised at how calm and even his voice sounded, though his heart was pounding so fast he thought it might explode.
Dustin studied the nurses, who'd gathered in a half-circle behind Tom. Dustin's eyes flicked from one face to the next. He seemed confused. Finally, after a tense moment, he headed back into his room.
"I'll do what you ask, but I'm still going to check out the window," he threatened as he shut the door.
Tom spun to face the nurses.
Kelsey, Tabatha, and the third nurse, whose name was Sigrid, according to her nametag, were all staring at him. Tom's confrontation with Dustin seemed to have pegged him as a leader.
"What should we do now?" Kelsey asked him.
He thought back to the group he'd been with a day earlier: Sven, Frederick, Sherry, Paul, and Rosemary. The anguish of losing them was still fresh. He couldn't let the same thing happen to these people.
"We should round up anything we can find: syringes, scalpels, and scissors," Tom said urgently. "What about knives? Do you have those?"
"Nothing up here. They'd be in the cafeteria, on the ground floor. And none of them are made of silver. At least, not that I'm aware of," Kelsey said.
"What about the police officers' guns?" Sigrid asked.
"All the weapons are outside with the dead officers. Going outside would be too dangerous." Tom bit his lip nervously. "We need to—"
His words were cut off by frantic shouts. A panic-stricken Abraham emerged from around the corridor, Sally and Katherine right behind him. Tom rushed over to greet them.
"Have you seen Silas?" Sally asked, her eyes frantic as she half-stumbled, half-fell into Tom.
"No!" Tom answered. "I thought he was in the room with you."
"That's why I was yelling at you and Abraham before. Silas came out to use the vending machine," Sally said, her lips quivering. "He said he was hungry. I found a dollar and told him to go with Abraham. I thought you two were still in the hall."
"We were in Louis's room by then," Abraham explained, his voice cracking as he clung to Katherine. "Silas must've left before the commotion started."
"Where are the vending machines?" Tom asked.
"The only vending machines are in the cafeteria and the lobby," Kelsey explained. "There are none up here. Not anymore."
"Then where is he?" Sally asked, looking frantically in all directions.
Tabatha cut in, her face draining of color. "Is Silas the little boy with blond hair? He asked me where the vending machines were. I told him they're on the ground floor."
Tom looked at the elevator, dread filling his stomach. The doors were propped open. But the boy could've slipped by earlier. He could've taken the stairs…
"I told him to go back inside his room. I thought he listened, but I don't remember him doing it. I was so busy with the other patients…" Tabatha lowered her head. "I
don't remember where he went."
"Why would he run off like that?" Sally whispered, as if assigning a logical motive might bring the boy back.
"He does that sometimes," Katherine said. "He's only six."
"Shit… Shit…" Tom muttered. "We don't have time to think about it. We have to get to him!"
Abraham and Tom sprinted toward the elevator. Tom pictured Silas seeking out the vending machines, only to find a barrage of ugly beasts instead. He couldn't let that happen.
"Wait!" Kelsey yelled behind them. Tom spun. "You can't go down there without a weapon! And you don't even have shoes!"
"I don't have time to wait!" Tom called over his shoulder. "If those things are down there, they'll be moving fast. We need to scoop him up and get back here!"
"Let me at least get your shoes!" Kelsey pleaded. "And I thought of something else you can both take. It's in the maintenance room!"
"We need a weapon," Abraham confirmed.
Tom turned to Abraham. "You should stay here and keep Sally and Katherine safe." Abraham glared at him for a second. Tom steeled his jaw, thwarting an argument. "There's no need to endanger two of us. Besides, Silas might still be on the floor. You should keep searching for him. I'll go to the maintenance room with Kelsey and then grab my boots."
Abraham opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind and darted after Sally and Katherine. Tom followed after Kelsey, who led him to the maintenance room about fifteen feet away.
Pulling out her keys, Kelsey unlocked the door and pushed it open. The overhead lights flicked on, revealing circuit breakers, standing cabinets, and a table. Hanging on the wall, protected by glass, was an axe.
"Right here!"
No sooner had Kelsey pointed it out than Tom had smashed the pane with a hammer. The case broke in fragments, cascading over the maintenance room floor. Careful not to step on it, he swiped the remaining glass aside, hefting the axe from its perch.
He handed the hammer to Kelsey.
"Collect any tools and weapons you can find and make sure these people are safe, Kelsey. I'm going to grab my boots and get to the elevator."
"I will." Kelsey swallowed. "But Tom, your leg—"
"I know." Tom spun and darted out the door. He didn't have time to hear the warning.
Chapter Six
Tom gripped the fireman's axe as he stood in the elevator. He glanced at the glowing elevator display, confirming the button was pressed for the ground floor. He hoped Silas had followed the same path.
What if he hadn't?
It was conceivable the little boy had taken the stairs. But Tom would find him. No matter where he'd gone. As the doors closed, Tom caught a glimpse of the nurses scurrying off to find weapons. He felt a surge of anxiety at leaving. But he needed to find Silas.
He stared at the axe in his hands. The weapon seemed small and insufficient. A gun would be better. But even that was no guarantee of safety. He knew that much.
And Silas is even more unguarded. The thought of the little boy navigating the hospital alone drove Tom on. He ignored the exhaustion that plagued him and the wound that felt like it'd never heal; all concern for his safety was secondary. His only thoughts were on rescuing the boy.
The elevator hummed as it began its descent. Tom envisioned a slew of creatures waiting on the lower floors, drawn to the elevator's sound. Once the doors opened, he'd be subject to their torment.
The voices on the third floor faded into the background, as if he'd left the survivors hours ago, instead of minutes. Tom swallowed.
The elevator slowed and jolted to a stop.
A cold panic gripped Tom's stomach. He hung next to the elevator wall, in quick reach of the buttons. The adrenaline had taken over, sharpening his senses. His worst fear was that the doors would open to reveal a slew of snarling faces. The smooth, silver walls of the elevator might be the last walls protecting him.
The doors slid open.
Thick, oppressive air wafted into the elevator car, as if he'd opened a sarcophagus. Tom stifled a cough. The odor of blood and animal musk overwhelmed the normally sterile atmosphere. The day-old carnage was visible, even through the thin lighting. Tom saw overturned nurses' carts, loose paper, and medical supplies littering the floor. A light buzzed furiously overhead.
There was no sign of Silas.
Tom contemplated hollering the boy's name, but the move would be foolish and deadly. Tom only had a partial view of the floor. The boy could be anywhere. He took a single step from the elevator car, hoping to get better visibility, but not far enough that he couldn't jump back inside if needed. He swallowed, his palm sweaty on the axe handle.
Had the boy changed his mind? Had Silas turned around?
Maybe he'd never been here at all.
Perhaps Silas had panicked, jumped back on the elevator, and rode to another floor. If so, how would Tom find him? Of course, from what Tom had heard, the first and second floors were just as destroyed. Who knew where the boy had gone?
Torn between his options, Tom was startled by the ding of the elevator car. He was blocking the sensors. Before he could make a decision, footsteps beat the floor from somewhere in front of him.
Silas!
Tom raced from the elevator, shuddering as the doors closed behind him. His heart slammed in his chest.
"Silas?" he hissed, his voice echoing off the walls and dying.
The footsteps continued, getting farther away.
The boy must be terrified and fleeing. Tom had to catch up to him.
Tom ran. As he progressed down the hall, he saw remains splashed all over the floor and walls. Pieces of clothing, medical instruments, and people were everywhere. His boots slipped and skidded over things he didn't want to think twice about. Bile burned his throat, threatening to spill. He forced it down and ran after the footsteps, concentrating on the sound. Right now, Silas was the only thing driving him onward.
The shadowed doorways seemed to harbor all manner of evil, and he envisioned creatures lurking in every direction. A generator thrummed from an unknown room.
That must be where the power is coming from.
Tom looked to his right, noticing a glass window that looked into a conference room. Bloodied handprints marred the window. A person was slumped sideways in a chair, reading papers he'd never comprehend again.
Silas, Tom reminded himself. Silas.
The boy was not only a goal, but a distraction. Tom called out the boy's name again, his urgency to find the boy overshadowing his sense of danger. No answer. The sound of footsteps had ceased. Tom hurried down the remainder of a hallway, reaching an intersection.
All at once, he was peering in three directions.
A flickering dome in the ceiling provided the only illumination. Most of the lights had been broken out or turned off. He could see only a few hundred feet down the hallways, providing little clue as to the little boy's whereabouts. It wasn't until Tom strained his ears that he heard a thin whimper. He chased the sound, turning right down a hallway, increasing his pace. Another corner. Another hallway. The hospital was a labyrinth, intent on leading him deeper.
Fifty yards in front of him, Tom caught sight of a fleeing figure. He recognized the person running, even in the unreliable lighting.
"Silas, it's me!" Tom cried out to the boy, certain Silas had heard him. But Silas kept running, his gasps filling the hallway, leading Tom on a chase. Why? Surely the boy recognized him. Perhaps it was the axe. Lowering his weapon, Tom held up his hands in a placating gesture. It wasn't until Silas looked back in fright that Tom understood why he was fleeing.
A hulking shadow was moving through the hallway after Tom, bounding over the carnage.
"Holy shit!" Tom cried out. "Keep going, Silas!"
One of them is after us. Shit, shit, shit….
Tom's pulse knocked violently as he tried to gain ground. His nightmares had come alive. Memories of the creatures melded with the sight of the beast, adding to his terror.
The beast
traded stealth for speed. Its fast, animal exhalations filled the air as it closed in.
Tom needed to find cover. He needed to distract the thing.
"Get in one of the rooms! Shut the door!" he shouted at Silas, hoping the boy would heed his words. All at once, Silas ducked into a distant room and slammed the door, his whimpering cut short by the barrier between them.
Tom darted down another hallway, leading the creature away. The creature's breathing was so loud that he was surprised it wasn't already clawing his back. Tom's throat burned as he searched for a place to hide. He reached a doorway, bashed into the frame with his shoulder, and scooted across the threshold.
All at once, he was blind to the room around him.
He tripped over an invisible chair, falling to his knees. Fiery pain tore through his wounded leg as he spun to make sense of his new surroundings. Claws scratched the doorway he'd just come through.
The room was large. Much larger than the hallway.
It was also pitch black.
Stripped of his vision, Tom's only sense of space was provided by his echoing breath. He pushed himself to his knees, his gown billowing behind him, feeling naked and vulnerable and desperate. He ran. The creature cast aside the chair, smashing it against the wall. Tom collided with something but kept running, dispelling the gruesome thought that he'd trip and impale himself.
Perhaps death by the axe would be better than being ripped apart and eaten.
Tom's boots rolled over something crunchy. A light crackled overhead. Whether it was motion-activated or not, Tom didn't know, but suddenly the room came into focus: a salad bar in the center, shelves of dry goods against the far wall, cereal underfoot.
He was in the cafeteria.
He skated across the spilled food, avoiding the salad bar, grateful that he saw it before he plowed into it. He groped the edge of the salad bar and gained purchase. The seating area of the cafeteria was ahead. He ran for it, his only thought to get to a clear space, a room where he could maneuver.
He had to defend himself. He couldn't hide.
Not anymore.
The beast was almost on him.
Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning) Page 3
