For The Night Is Dark

by Mynhardt, Joe

  “Kate,” Renee said, going after the angry woman. “I was just teasing.”

  “I know,” Kate said, flashing a smile over her shoulder. “Have a lovely night!” She threw her hand up in farewell, transforming the goodbye into a middle finger salute as she slipped through the door.

  Okay, Renee might have deserved that one. But damn it! It wasn’t like she enjoyed filing more than anyone else. Still, sitting around bitching about it wasn’t getting it done. Resigning herself to her third shift fate, she grabbed the department phone, drew a deep breath and headed down the hall to the film room to see how bad the damage was. A quick flick of the light brought a tearful sight to her weary eyes.

  “Jesus!” she shouted before she caught herself and covered her mouth.

  The inbox rested on the floor in the back of the file room, near the hallway, positioned to catch films returned from other departments via the slot in the wall. The bin usually had a good foot or so of work, but tonight it was waist high with loose films. Not only had Kate ‘forgotten’ to file, but it looked like every other god damned shift forgot as well. Why everyone thought third shift—with only one tech—had time to do something that everyone else couldn’t manage, Renee had no idea. But, again, bitching about it didn’t get the work done.

  She rolled up her sleeves, bit back her anger, and dug in.

  The first couple of hours went surprisingly fast. Between a broken ankle, a fishhook in the lip and a dislocated shoulder—all courtesy of the ED—she had plenty of time to get stuff sorted out. She even found herself whistling while she worked. It wasn’t until she reached the bottom of the pile did she cease, mid whistle, and stare. The last foot or so of files were old. As in really, really old.

  As in came from the dungeon old.

  The dungeon rested in the basement section of an older part of the hospital, all but forgotten after the remodelling was finished years ago. Aside from storing really old films, it was filled with the neglected remnants of a bygone era—abandoned equipment, unneeded supplies and the likes. The most fascinating section by far was the lost and found; a room filled with old clothes, toys, books and other things left behind by patients through the years. Renee had never seen the room, but she heard it was a sight to behold.

  Well, that and it was supposedly haunted.

  The only time anyone from radiology went to the dungeon was . . . well, actually no one ever went to the dungeon these days. The modern exams were digitized, with the rare print for the occasional customer. The department kept hard copies for about three years, but after that the films were destroyed, leaving nothing but their computer files as evidence the exam ever happened. Films stored in the dungeon were exams and procedures ancient in comparison to modern day technology. Who in the hell ordered films pulled from there?

  Renee checked her watch. Just after midnight. Kate never went to bed before four, choosing to stay up all night and flirt on the internet with the same men she’d bitch about all the next day. Renee called the woman from the department phone. It rang a few times before Kate answered it.

  “What?” Kate asked.

  “Geesh,” Renee said. “Is that any way to say hello?”

  “Not when you think you’re being called back in.”

  “Like I would do that to you. I’d call Peter first.”

  “Then Pete would call me and —”

  “Why are there dungeon films in the bin?”

  Kate tripped over her complaint and went quiet. “Is there?”

  “Yeah. Looks like stuff from about, oh, twenty years ago. Jesus, I didn’t think we kept stuff that old.”

  “Oh, I remember now. Pete said that some students came through the department today.”

  “You mean yesterday.”

  “Whatever. He was probably showing off for them. You know his whole ‘the way it was’ routine. He gets off on it.”

  “Yeah, just a build up to show off the new MRI.”

  “Yup.”

  Renee flipped through the files. “I wonder what they thought of these old tomographs.”

  “They probably wondered what particular cave man shot the films.”

  “Wait up now. Wasn’t that you?”

  “Har, har. Just because I’ve been in this game longer than you don’t mean you get to rub it in.”

  “Sorry.” Renee said between chuckles. “I should go. Standing around on the phone is more fun than filing, but I am almost done and that book is calling my name.”

  “You really gonna file those?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Because it is creepy as shit down there.”

  “I like creepy. Besides, I’ve never been down there.” Renee grinned. “Maybe I’ll see Gertrude.”

  Kate’s gasp came across the cell as a thin, asthmatic wheeze. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  “Come on, she’s just a story.”

  “She is not. Gertrude is real.”

  “Yeah, really lame. I mean, a ghost haunting the basement of a hospital? How original.”

  “She’s real!”

  “Have you ever seen her?”

  “Hell no. But you won’t catch me looking for her either.”

  “What’s the big deal with her anyways?”

  “I told you, she used to cut up kids.”

  “I thought she boiled puppies?” Renee chuckled.

  Every time someone shared a Gertrude story the premise stayed the same, but the details always changed; some old lady who did horrible things in life, only to die alone in the geriatric ward of the old hospital.

  Kate yawned.

  “Sleepy head,” Renee said. “When I hang up, you go to bed.”

  “Yes, mother,” Kate said.

  “I’m serious. Don’t let me catch you online later. Get some sleep.”

  “G’night.”

  The line went dead, leaving Renee alone again.

  She glanced to the dusty stack of old films and thought carefully about the task. Being the only tech on shift meant she needed to stay within reception of her phone, a signal the depth of the basement would surely obstruct. Yet, to the best of her knowledge the intercom still reached the basement, and with the right warnings to the right folks, she could step away from her department for at least a few minutes. The ED was still dead, in a good way, and if they really needed her, she could still hear the codes through the intercom. Besides, how long would it take to slip a few files back on the rack? Renee made the appropriate arrangements and headed off to the supposedly creepy as hell basement for her first look-see.

  “Wow,” Renee said when she reached the bottom of the stairwell.

  The place was every bit as creepy as Kate claimed; damp and mouldy, with a slight chill in the air and a murky, endless gloom. Sure there were auxiliary lights giving off a soft red glow, but they somehow made the place creepier. She flicked on the overhead switch, but it did little good. Only the first few fixtures worked, and those flickering bulbs were covered in filth, shedding but a hair more light upon the first few feet of the hallway. She stared into the dimly lit hall, and swallowed hard. It looked like something from a horror film. She had a hard time believing that this basement was part of the same uber sterile environment only a few feet above. Swaths of peeling paint left huge sections of brick showing through, while random equipment lay scattered across the floor in a medical maze. Something in the darkness beyond the low light dripped and dripped, echoing down the cold hallway and right up Renee’s spine.

  Renee checked her department phone for a signal. No luck. She checked her personal cell. No reception either. That settled it then. She intended to explore a bit once the filing was done, but with it being so dark, and no reception on her phones, and the fact that she was just plain weirded out, she decided to get her work done and get the heck out. Thankfully, the film room was near the stairwell, as evidenced by a huge handmade sign taped to the door. Once inside, Renee’s heart sank again. The place was a jumble of films. How in the hell was she supposed
to file this stuff back in that mess? The answer came upon the heels of the question, bringing her to a smile. On second thought, there was an obvious system at work here, so she just followed suit. Renee dropped her stack on the pile nearest the door, and that was that.

  She backed into the hallway again, closing the door as she did. No sooner had the film storage door clicked shut, Renee heard the soft shuffle of feet at the other end of the hall. The end away from the stairwell. She peered into the gloom, wondering what made the noise.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  No answer came.

  “Gertrude?” she asked, and chuckled.

  Again, no answer. Not that she expected one. Renee shrugged and turned to leave, when she heard the shuffle again. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she didn’t hear it, but through the darkness it came a third time, stronger and clearer.

  “Craaap,” she groaned, but went to find the source anyways.

  She crept along the hallway, dodging old exam tables and metal gurneys, O2 tanks and IV poles. As she moved, she strained to pick out the direction of the noise. Sometimes it sounded forever away, yet at other times it was right upon her, as if the person was walking toward her, seeking her instead of the other way round. It didn’t take long for her to reach the end of the lighted section. She looked around for another switch, but there wasn’t another one. Her original assessment was correct; the rest of the fixtures were either burned out or broken, leaving her to the half shadows of the lights behind her.

  “Hello?” she called out one more time. “Is anyone there?”

  “My teeth,” someone in the darkness answered. The voice was feminine, old and tired, dragging out the words in long slow syllables.

  Renee’s heart leapt to her throat at the sound. Or was it a sound. Did she hear it or was she yanking her own chain here in the gloom. “Umm, hello?”

  “My teeth,” the woman said. “I’ve lost my teeth. Can you help me find them?”

  Shuffle. Shuffle.

  Okay, that was not just her imagination. There was someone down here with her. Someone who lost their teeth? Really? Always the pragmatist, she calmed her wild heart and searched her mind for possible answers. Lost teeth. Slow words. An aged voice. From the sound of it, one of the geriatric patients had wandered off the skilled floor and into the basement. It wasn’t just likely, it was the sort of thing that happened all the time.

  “Hello?” she asked again. “Ma’am? Where are you? Let me help you get back upstairs.”

  “I need to find my teeth,” the woman said.

  “Shit,” Renee whispered. This wasn’t going to work. She almost turned back for help, or at least a flashlight, when an idea struck her. She pulled her phone from her jacket and swiped away the lock screen.

  “We got an app for that,” she said as she touched a few places on the screen.

  The pale LED of her flash came to life, casting the hallway into a ghostly glow. It was creepy to be sure, but certainly better then stumbling around in the dark while looking for some poor old fart. Renee swept the light this way and that, still searching for the source of the voice and the shuffle. Without warning, the light from the cell swept across the form of an old woman. Renee should’ve expected it, but instead the appearance of the lady took her by surprise. She shouted aloud and fumbled her phone, snatching it from mid fall with the ease of one who has almost dropped her cell before. With it in hand again, she pointed the light to the spot she swore she saw the old woman, but instead of the patient, Renee shone her light on a door marked ‘Lost and Found.’

  The hinges squeaked as the door clicked shut.

  “Your teeth aren’t in there you old biddy,” Renee said.

  She stared at the door for a few moments, wondering what she should do. The proper procedure was to call the nursing supervisor and let her handle this mess. Of course, that meant leaving the old fart here while Renee tried to find some reception for her phone. Besides, she was hired to take x-rays, not chase around little old ladies. That was someone else’s job.

  Without warning, a bright light poured over her shoulder and illuminated the door before her.

  “What in the hell are you doing down here?” the security guard asked.

  “Jesus Christ!” Renee shouted, and this time she did drop her phone.

  Scott chuckled and directed his flashlight to the floor. “Damn, girl, don’t have heart attack on me. I don’t have my CPR cert yet.”

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she growled.

  “You dropped your phone.” He aimed the light at her phone on the floor.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” She bent double to retrieve it, pleased to see it survived the fall.

  “Butterfingers.”

  “Asshole.”

  Scott chuckled again. “What are you doing down here anyways?”

  “Filing.”

  “Filing? Filing what? Coats and false teeth?”

  The hair on the back of Renee’s neck stood on end as she remembered the echo of the old woman’s words.

  I need to find my teeth.

  “What are you talking about?” Renee asked.

  “You know,” Scott said. “Clothes and stuff. Patient belongings. That is all that’s in there.” He lifted his light over her shoulder to shine on the room behind her again.

  Renee turned about and stared at the ‘Lost and Found’ sign. “Someone’s in there too.”

  “Say what?” Scott asked, joining her beside the door.

  “A little old woman. She must’ve wandered down here from the geriatric ward.”

  “You sure?”

  “Why?” Renee grinned, unable to help herself. “You think it’s Gertrude?”

  The guard went pale at the name. “Ugh, don’t even joke about that.”

  “What is it about her that makes everyone so weird?”

  “I heard she was like this masochist that killed all of her lovers by sticking fire pokers in unpleasant places.”

  “Now that is one I have never heard before.”

  “Joke all you like, I wouldn’t want to meet her down here in the dark.”

  “Well I can promise you this wasn’t Gertrude. Or a ghost. She was shuffling around in the dark and then went into that room. Said she lost her teeth. I think she is looking for them.”

  “Well, that’d be the place to find ‘em. There’s a stack of dentures in there that goes all the way to the effing the ceiling. We should call the nursing supervisor.” Scott snapped his phone from his belt and looked at it with a frown. “No signal.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “Then what did you have your phone out for?”

  “As a flashlight, dumbass.”

  “Ah.”

  “Try your radio.”

  “You kidding me? Forget about it. If the cell’s don’t work down here, that hunk of junk isn’t gonna do crap. I’ll go look for the lady and you go back and get the super -”

  The intercom began to squawk over his offer of help.

  “Code White, Ward C. Code White, Ward C. Code White, Ward C.”

  “Huh,” Scott said. “I didn’t realize the intercom reached down here.” He clipped his phone back on his belt and headed to the stairwell.

  “Where are you going?” Renee called after him.

  “I gotta respond. Workplace violence and all that. Probably the new admit on the psych ward acting up.”

  “What about the missing patient?”

  “Here,” Scott said, and tossed his flashlight toward Renee before he mounted the first step.

  She caught the light and raced to the bottom of the stairs. “What is this for?”

  “Take a look around,” he said without stopping. “I’ll be right back. I’ll call Sue while I’m up here. We will be back in ten minutes, tops.”

  “Ten minutes? Scott! Get back here and help me!”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, and obviously had no intention of helping her look for anyone.

  �
��Stupid Code Gray,” she said.

  Renee glanced down the hallway, to the door at the end. Maybe, just possibly, she didn’t actually see anyone at all. Maybe she imagined the whole thing. Sure. That made all kinds of sense. Now that she thought about it, the whole thing sounded silly. Why would there be some old lady wandering around down here in the dark?

  At the far end of the hallway there came a loud crash, as if something fell to the floor.

  Or someone.

  This was followed by a soft moan.

  “Great,” Renee said. “Way to get yourself hurt.”

  That settled it then, Renee had to find the patient now. The last thing she needed was the guilt of letting some old lady flounder to death in the basement. She flicked on the flashlight and headed to the Lost and Found again. Renee pushed through the door and swept the light across the room, gawking at the contents. The place looked like a yard sale mine blew up and rained junk shrapnel and clothes everywhere. Racks and racks of coats lined the walls, between which sat piles of shoes, suitcases and handbags. Renee snorted when the beam of light landed on a table stacked with dentures.

  “Teeth ahoy,” she whispered.

  “My teeth,” a voice answered her.

  The speaker was just at her back, all but hissing the words over her shoulder. Renee started at the intimate proximity of the voice, and dropped the flashlight in surprise. It clattered to the floor, throwing scattered rays in stuttered jolts across the room, until it fell dead. Renee cringed as the place plunged into immediate darkness, either the auxiliary lights were broken or just not installed in this room.

  “My teeth,” the woman said again.

  Where the voice was just over Renee’s shoulder moments before, now it was in front of her. “Hello? Ma’am? Are you okay?”

  “My teeth. I’ve lost them.”

  “I don’t think your teeth are down here, ma’am. I’m need to take you back —”

  “Help me.” The voice moved around in the dark. To the left. To the right.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Please, help me.”

  Renee reached out to grope the blackness in front of her. “Ma’am, you stay where you are. Keep talking and I will come to you.”

  “Help me.”