“I suppose,” Mitt said. He was having more and more difficulty thinking clearly. He needed sleep and he needed it badly.
Lashonda quickly returned Charlene’s medical record to its appropriate position in the top box and replaced the lid. She then closed the closet door and stepped out of the lavatory. She looked at Mitt as she picked up her flashlight. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Mitt admitted. He picked up his flashlight, too.
“Okay, let’s get you out of here so you can get some sleep.”
“Good idea,” Mitt managed. He followed her over to the door to the hall, but just as Lashonda went to open it, he raised his arm and put his hand against the door to keep it closed. It was the same hand that was holding the flashlight. “Hold up for a second!” he said. “Before I followed you in here when we first arrived, I couldn’t help myself from glancing back up the hall from whence we’d come. I know you told me not to, but I did, and the entire corridor was jam-packed with surgerized patients carrying their limbs or organs. Isn’t that going to be a major problem?’’
“No, as I told you, if they are still there, they should just be ignored.”
“How can I ignore them if they are staring me in the face?”
“You just do! You merely pretend they are not there because, in a way, they are not there. You are seeing them because you are a portal. I can’t explain it better than that. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t,” Mitt admitted.
“Okay, fine,” Lashonda said with a roll of her eyes. It was obvious she was getting progressively more tense and impatient as dawn approached. “Listen! Just follow me! Close your eyes if you have to.”
“Are you serious? Walk with my eyes closed? I’m not sure I can.”
“If it comes to that, put your hand on my shoulder.” To demonstrate she reached out and grasped Mitt’s free hand and placed it on her shoulder, giving it a final pat. “Just like this, okay?”
“Okay,” Mitt said, retrieving his hand and removing the other from the door to the hallway.
“Okay, brace yourself!” Lashonda said as she reached for the door handle.
Chapter 27
Thursday, July 4, 5:06 a.m.
Although Mitt did try to prepare himself, he was still startled as Lashonda pulled the door wide open. Pressing up against the outside of the door was the horde of patients he had glimpsed earlier. The angry but silent crowd had not vanished, as he’d hoped, but rather completely filled the entire corridor in both directions. Front and center were two individuals Mitt recognized. To the left was a one-eyed man teetering on one leg while holding his other mangled leg, which had been amputated mid-thigh. The amputated ends were bloody, as if the operation had just occurred. He was dressed in homespun clothing. His facial expression was of pure fury. Instantly, Mitt knew the one-eyed man had to be John Mercer.
Immediately to the right of John was Charlene Wagner. Although she’d been only eight years old, she was almost as tall as John. Her pale, otherwise cherubic face was twisted into an expression of anger, and she was again holding an orbitoclast, presumably the one that killed her.
“Dr. Fuller!” Lashonda yelled. She was staring at him, seeing his shock. She reached out and grabbed his free hand and slapped it back onto her shoulder, maintaining a grip on his fingers. “Shut your eyes! We’re leaving here now!”
Although Mitt meant to comply, he didn’t do it instantly, and to his utter astonishment, he saw Lashonda step forward despite the doorway and the entire hallway being completely blocked. In the next instant, as if defying belief, he saw Lashonda glide out through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. At that point Mitt did manage to shut his eyes, and with his hand firmly clasped onto Lashonda’s shoulder, he, too, moved into the hallway without impediment.
In the next instant, he felt himself being turned around and heard the door to the housekeeping storeroom close and click shut. “Keep your eyes closed,” Lashonda repeated hotly. He felt her hand clamp down even tighter on his fingers as they turned around yet again and began to move along the corridor.
“Is the hallway clear?” Mitt asked after twenty or so steps.
“Mostly,” Lashonda answered. “But keep your eyes shut, otherwise you’ll bring them all back.”
“Okay,” Mitt said, although he had to fight against opening his eyes. The concrete basement floor was not completely uniform, and he was stumbling over occasional debris as he walked.
“We’re making a right-hand turn,” Lashonda warned.
“Okay,” Mitt said. “Thanks.” He was surprised it was so difficult to follow someone this closely while keeping his eyes shut. On several occasions, their feet and legs ended up making contact. He was glad that Lashonda was keeping hold of his hand on her shoulder.
“Okay, now a left-hand turn,” Lashonda said.
“Got it,” Mitt responded. He knew they were now on the relatively long stretch of hallway leading to the circular stairs, meaning they were making significant progress. As he lurched ahead, Mitt found himself again marveling at how they had been able to walk through the crowd that appeared to be so substantive but clearly wasn’t. Obviously, he had a lot to learn about being a portal, if that truly was the case.
“We’re now approaching the circular stairway,” Lashonda said.
“Good, can I open my eyes now?”
“I prefer you wait if you don’t mind.”
“I suppose not,” Mitt said as he felt the floor change from bare concrete to tile. In his mind’s eye, he could see the circular helix-style stair curving up in the darkness. Then he felt Lashonda stop and he followed suit. “How about now with the eyes?”
“Yes, I think we should be okay,” Lashonda said. “And it will make going up the stairs a good bit easier.”
Mitt opened his eyes and directed his flashlight along his line of sight. He immediately glanced around the area and then up the circular stairs. It was a relief to see no apparitions. Twisting around, he shined his light down the central corridor from which they’d come. Again, there was nothing, at least as far as the light penetrated.
“Come on!” Lashonda urged. She’d already started up the stairs. “I’m afraid it’s going to be lighter outside than I’d like as it is.”
Gaining the stairs, Mitt rose rapidly, catching up to Lashonda so that they both reached the ground floor in tandem. Without hesitation, she headed directly across the lobby area and into the foyer, toward the oversized double doors. Mitt followed but just before he entered the foyer, he glanced at the arched opening of the west main corridor. Standing there alone in the darkness was Charlene, her blond hair and pale shirtdress nearly luminescent.
Mitt slowed but didn’t stop, nor did he shine his light in Charlene’s direction. And in the instant that she remained in view, he had the distinct impression she was frantically motioning for him not to leave but to come toward her. But that was the last thing he wanted to do, and her gesture gave him one last chill up and down his spine. In the next instant, Charlene was blocked by the intervening foyer’s wall, and Mitt joined Lashonda, who was already outside holding open one of the oversized double doors. He immediately passed her, glad to get out of his first haunted house none the worse for wear. Outside it was already getting light even though sunrise wouldn’t occur for another fifteen to twenty minutes.
While waiting for her to lock the door, he glanced up at the building’s ornamented façade, truly amazed that such a ghostly menagerie could exist in the middle of such a vibrant city. Once again, he was struck that the building had not been razed or converted despite its central location and despite having been empty for almost forty years. Its mere continued existence afforded a degree of credibility to Lashonda’s claim that it was supernatural power that kept the wrecking ball at bay.