by Amy Cross
“And now,” she added, “the bad news here is that we're out of a few basic supplies, but the good news is we've got plenty in the store room. And the fantastic news is that you can get your initiation over and done with right off the bat.”
“My...” Elly paused. “My initiation?”
“It's a little something we like to do to all new hires around here. Think of it as a way to test your mettle.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a notepad. “I'm gonna write you a little list and draw you a little map, and you're gonna go to the storeroom on the fifth floor in C-wing, which is in the old, burned part of the building. Don't worry, it's totally safe, but you'll need a flashlight 'cause like I told you earlier there ain't no fancy amenities round these parts.” After scribbling on the notepad for a moment, she tore off a sheet and held it out for her. “There. Follow that map and get what I've written down. Think you can handle such a challenging task?”
“Of course,” Elly replied, feeling a little relieved to be given a simple job. “I'll be right back,” she added, turning and heading to the door.
“But first go and check on Doctor Carmichael,” Sharon said. “See if he needs any help.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, and when you go to the storeroom, watch out for Mary.”
Stopping, Elly frowned. She could hear Sharon already muttering to herself again, examining more boxes, but she felt she couldn't let that last comment go with saying something. Slowly, she turned to her. “Watch out for who?”
“Mary,” Sharon said with a grin, as she got to her feet and put a hand on Mr. Lacy's forehead, checking his temperature. “She often likes to welcome new arrivals, and she's out that way sometimes, she likes C-wing for some reason. If you see her, say hi for me, okay?”
“But...” Elly paused. “I mean, who's Mary?”
“Oh, don't worry about that now,” Sharon added. “You'll know her when you see her.”
***
“Okay, Rachel,” Doctor Carmichael said a little while later as he removed another strip of tape from the bandage covering the woman's face, “I guess you know the procedure by now. There might be some discomfort, but I'll try to be as quick as possible. Can you squeeze my hand to show you understand?”
Elly looked down and saw the woman briefly squeeze Carmichael's hand.
“Have you read the patient file?” the doctor asked, turning to Elly.
“I didn't get a chance.”
“Well, Rachel was involved in a very unfortunate traffic accident about six months ago.” He began to carefully lift the final bandage away, revealing a square of bloody gauze covering what was left of the woman's face. The smell of iodine solution was unmistakable. “She was very lucky that she received medical attention in time, although there wasn't much they could do at first other than clear the airway and stabilize her. Now, though, we're starting to make a little progress. Aren't we, Rachel?”
Taking a brown paper envelope from the bedside table, he slipped a couple of photos out and held them up, showing Elly a shot from when Rachel had first been picked up by an ambulance crew. The front of her face was missing, with just glistening red meat left behind. The next photo showed a mess of bloodied flesh and bone hanging from some kind of sharp metal panel, and the final photo was an X-ray, revealing the massive damage to the front of the patient's skull. Without saying anything, Doctor Carmichael pointed at a set of numbers printed on the side of the X-ray, and Elly immediately understood that they showed damage to the brain's frontal lobe.
“So,” the doctor said after a moment, as he set the photos aside, “I think you're all caught up with the file now, Nurse Blackstock.”
Looking down again, Elly saw Rachel's hand twitch slightly, which she figured was another acknowledgment. Turning back to look at the woman's face, she realized with a growing sense of horror that the square of gauze was completely flat, as if no facial features were poking up from beneath.
“Ready?” Carmichael mouthed silently, clearly concerned about Elly's reaction.
She nodded.
He paused, before starting to peel the gauze back. As he did so, it became apparent that Rachel Brown had no face left at all. Where there should have been eyes, there were merely ridges of stretched skin that appeared to have been stretched down from her forehead and folded together, then stapled shut in the center of her face where once she would have had a nose. Carmichael carefully pulled the gauze away a little further, revealing that Rachel's mouth was gone too, with the skin having again been stretched and stapled and then tucked into the center, where it met the skin from above, creating a tight pit with more black staples all around the edges. All of the woman's features were gone, replaced by a single, all-encompassing hole in the center of what was left of her face. A pipe was attached to her throat, allowing her to breathe, and further down her body there were other pipes delivering nutrients directly to her stomach.
Shocked, Elly had to look away for a moment, at which point she noticed a photo propped up on the bedside table showing a smiling, happy-looking twenty-something woman.
“Nurse?” Doctor Carmichael said after a moment. “Are we ready to proceed?”
She turned back to him.
“The wounds need cleaning,” he continued. “Can you get onto that?”
She paused, before nodding. Taking a set of swabs from the trolley, she dipped one of the cotton ends into a jar of solution and then moved it close to the center of Rachel's face.
“Is it...” She took a deep breath. Nothing in her nursing training had ever prepared her for such a horrific sight, and she was worried about making a mistake. “Will it hurt?”
“No,” Carmichael replied, “as long as you're gentle.”
“What about the stitches? How long as they staying in?”
“As long as they're needed.”
“And the -”
“Just get on with it,” he told her, clearly annoyed by all the questions. “It's not rocket science, Nurse Blackstock.”
Forcing herself not to tremble, Elly moved the swab closer and finally began to gently clean the sore patches of skin around the staples. She kept looking down at the woman's hands, worried that she might see some indication of pain, but as she continued to clean she began to realize that the patient seemed completely calm. Noticing that there was now a trace of blood smeared on the end of the swab, she dropped it into a waste box and grabbed a replacement, carefully wiping around more of the staples. Whoever had tried to repair Rachel's face and sew the skin back together had done a decent enough job, but there hadn't been much to work with. Rachel had no features left whatsoever, just damaged skin stapled together in the center of her face, leaving a small hole that dipped in toward her skull and, presumably, joined up with what was left of her throat.
Glancing over at Carmichael, Elly saw that his attention seemed to have been drawn to something over on the far side of the room, and there was a hint of fear in his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
He turned to her, clearly unsettled. “Fine,” he muttered, but he couldn't help looking over at the far side again.
Elly followed his gaze, but she couldn't see anything.
“It looks like you'll be fine in here,” Carmichael said suddenly, hurrying to the door. “Just start putting on fresh bandages. You saw how they were before.”
“But -”
“Can you just do it?” he snapped, before glancing over at the corner again. He paused, clearly unsettled, before turning back to her. “What are you waiting for, Nurse Blackstock, a cookie? Can you do your job or not?”
“Of course.” Shocked by the sudden change in his attitude, she got to work cutting a section of gauze for the woman's face. She was aware that Doctor Carmichael was watching her every move, and this attention made her begin to doubt herself. Once the bandages were ready, she double-checked to make sure they were right, and then she began to triple-check, terrified that she might make another mistake and -
“Jesus Chr
ist,” he muttered, grabbing the first bandage from her hand, “could you be any slower?”
“Sorry, I -”
“Like this,” he continued, putting the bandage in place. “Pass me the gauze.”
Reaching over for the gauze, she instead managed to knock it to the floor. She immediately heard a sigh and turned just in time to see Carmichael grabbing a fresh piece.
“Sorry,” she stammered, “I'll -”
“Don't you have anything else to be doing?” he asked, clearly trying to get rid of her. “I think I'll work faster alone.”
“I -” She briefly considered trying again, before realizing that he seemed not to be in the mood to talk. “Nurse Cassidy asked me to fetch something from one of the storerooms -”
“Then I'd suggest you go and do that.” He placed the gauze over Rachel's ruined face. “It's okay, Rachel,” he continued. “We're just going to make sure that this is nicely in place.”
Rachel's hand was flexing, as if she was in pain as the gauze was taped in place.
Heading to the door, Elly glanced back and saw that Carmichael was hard at work, still talking gently to Rachel. After a moment, however, she saw that he was still looking at the far corner occasionally, as if something there was bothering him, even though there was nothing to see. She thought for a moment that perhaps she could ask, that she could try again to make a good impression, but she felt she'd already asked more than enough questions. Instead, she slipped out of the room and headed along the corridor. Her hands were shaking and she figured she just needed to get on with one of the other tasks she'd been given.
People at Middleford Cross seemed to not like answering questions very much.
Chapter Three
Stopping at the end of yet another dark corridor, Elly tilted the flashlight down so she could see the piece of paper on which Sharon had drawn a map. She frowned for a moment, trying to work out whether she'd taken all the indicated turnings, before aiming the flashlight to the left, lighting up the walls of another corridor.
“I'm not lost,” she muttered under her breath. “I can't be.”
Although she was tempted to call Sharon and ask for help, she told herself that she should just keep going and find her way.
So far, this part of the huge building was very different to the brightly-lit section with the patients. Whereas that section had been renovated following the fire, the rest of the old hospital had simply been left standing with no improvements, which meant that the walls were scorched, most of the windows were broken, and there was debris and rubble all over the floor. Some of the exterior walls, missing large sections, had been covered with tarpaulin that shimmered and ruffled in the cold night wind. There were no lights, either, so without the flashlight Elly wouldn't have been able to see a thing. After checking the map again, she took a left turn and began to make her way cautiously toward what she hoped would turn out to be the storeroom.
Reaching the door at the far end of the corridor, she took the keys from her pocket and tried them, only to find that none of them fit.
“Great,” she muttered, looking down at the crudely-drawn map again, “This place is like a maze.”
Taking her phone from her pocket, she brought up her mother's number.
“Hey,” she said after a moment, “I really can't talk for long, I just wanted to let you know that -”
Interrupting immediately, her mother demanded to know how she was getting on.
“It's late,” Elly replied, turning the map upside down as she tried to work out where she'd taken a wrong turn. She took a few steps forward and peered through a doorway, finding some kind of abandoned office. “I'm fine, I'm just trying to find the right storeroom.”
Her mother asked if she was being treated properly.
“They're treating me fine, mother.”
The next question was about unpleasantness. Had there been any?
“What kind of unpleasantness could there be?”
At this, her mother sighed.
“Everything's fine,” Elly insisted. Heading along the next corridor, she stopped and looked both ways. “You don't need to worry about me.”
Her mother asked what she was doing right now.
“I'm fetching supplies.”
This was not a popular answer. Her mother told her that she was being wasted, that her skill-set was suited to helping patients, not fetching and carrying.
She sighed. “We're just a little short-handed, that's all. Everything's fine, but please, if you just -”
Stopping suddenly, she realized she could hear footsteps nearby. She turned, listening to the sound of someone walking quickly, determinedly along one of the other corridors. A moment later, she heard a door creaking open. She'd been under the impression that no-one else would be in this part of the building, and she'd written off Sharon's warnings about someone named Mary as just a prank, but now...
“I can't talk right now.” She kept the flashlight shining toward the next corner. “I have to go.”
Her mother wanted to know why.
“I don't have time for this now,” she said firmly. “I'll let you know how it went later, after I'm done for the night.” With that, she tapped the screen and lowered the phone. As she took a few steps back the way she'd just come, waited for more footsteps, worried that someone might appear around the far corner. Whoever it was, they clearly didn't care about keeping quiet; in fact, it sounded like they were rooting about in one of the rooms. A moment later she heard a door swinging shut, followed by more footsteps, coming closer this time.
She braced herself, convinced that someone was about to step into view.
Nothing.
The footsteps got closer, however, seemingly heading straight toward her and then past. Turning, she felt a hint of confusion before looking up and realizing that the footsteps were directly above, as if someone was in the corridor up on the sixth floor. Sighing with relief, she listened as the footsteps stopped for a moment, and then she heard another door opening. Someone was definitely up there, and she figured that whoever it was, it must be the Mary person she'd heard about earlier. Sharon had refused to answer any more questions and had clearly enjoyed taunting her, but she told herself that she wasn't going to let herself get spooked. Mary was probably just another nurse, or a maintenance worker, something like that. Perfectly normal. Checking the map again, she turned it a few more times before heading off in another direction.
Finally, at the end of the corridor, she found a door with what appeared to be a new handle and lock. Sure enough, when she tried the key this time, she realized she'd finally got to the storeroom, although she didn't really understand why it was so far from the main part of the building. She pushed the door open and reached around for a light-switch.
“Who are you?”
Almost jumping out of her skin, Elly spun around and found that an elderly woman was standing right behind her in the corridor. Dressed in rags and with large, bulging eyes, the woman was short and thin and looked impossibly old, with leathery skin clinging to her face. After a moment, a faint musty smell began to fill the air.
“Who are you?” the woman asked again, taking a step closer. She had a slight accent, a hint of something European, maybe German. Her bones creaked every time she moved. “Out with it! What's your name?”
“I...” Elly paused, trying to stay calm even though the situation felt increasingly surreal. “My name is Nurse Blackstock, it's my first night.” She paused again. “Are you Mary?”
“What are you doing here?” the woman continued, stepping even closer and bringing her stench with her. “I've never seen you before!”
“I'm picking up supplies,” Elly told her, trying not to show that she was disgusted by the smell. “I... Who are you?”
“They sent you, didn't they?” the woman replied with a frown. “That's their trouble, they're always sending new people, it's one of the ways they try to confuse me. I don't like it.”
“Well, no, I...” Elly s
wallowed hard. “Are you Mary? Are -”
Before she could finish, she heard footsteps again from above. Looking up at the ceiling, she realized someone was still stomping about up there.
“Damn her,” the old woman muttered, also looking up. “She can search all she wants, but she won't find it.”
“Who won't?” Elly asked, turning to her again. “Find what? Are you Mary or -”
“I've always been Mary,” she replied. “Always have been, always will be. No-one can take that away from me.” She prodded Elly's chest with a long, bony finger. “No-one! I've come a long way to find it!”
Taking a step back, Elly was relieved to get a little further from the stench. “Are you supposed to be alone in this part of the building?” she asked. “You don't... I mean, forgive me for saying this, but you don't seem like a member of staff. Are you a patient?”
At this, Mary smiled. “Oh, you don't know anything.”
“No,” Elly replied, “I suppose I don't, but -”
“Tell her,” Mary continued, taking a step back. “Tell her she won't find it, not even if she searches every room in the whole place, not even if she searches a thousand times and then a thousand times again. Tell her I've got it and I'm keeping it, and I won't give it up.”
“But -”
“Tell her it's too late! Promise!”
“I... Tell who?”
As if to answer her question, the footsteps on the floor above seemed to get louder. Whoever was up there, they seemed to be storming around in a hurry, and after a moment Elly realized that it sounded a little like someone was searching frantically. Hearing something heavy being pushed across the floor, she realized that whoever was up there, they seemed to be moving furniture out of the way.
“I can't tell her myself,” Mary continued, “not anymore, so I want you to pass the message on for me. Tell her there's nothing she can offer me, there's nothing I want, I just won't let her have it. I know what she wants with it and I don't approve, I think it's disgusting. Things like that...” She paused, as if she was a little flustered. “Things like that should be left alone. I knew Annie, see? I met her when she was here and I know what she went through. I know all about it, and I think it should stop. No-one's got the right to go digging through it again, especially not -”
