“That’s right,” Mark said, still walking quickly. “You violated rule number one. Don’t do it again! And whatever you do, don’t promise anything. The subject never gets to look at the story before it’s aired. If Drexel got a look at the footage, she might see something she doesn’t like. Then she gets her lawyers involved, and that could screw everything.”
“Sorry,” Ellen said.
They approached the main entry, but Mark led them down a hallway that went behind the vestibule. Beyond was another hallway, cordoned off by chrome pylons and thick, velvet rope.
“Let’s take a look down there,” Mark said.
“Hang on,” Ellen said. She disappeared back toward the hospital entrance. When she returned, she wasn’t carrying the tripod.
“The receptionist is going to watch the tripod. Didn’t think I’d need to lug that thing around if we’re just shooting background footage.”
“Fine, whatever,” Mark said. He moved one of the pylons to let Ellen through, still carrying the camera on her shoulder.
Mark led the way down the hall, as Ellen followed — camera on. Mark slowed. The dark, mahogany paneling, closed doors, and sconce lighting seemed to close in on him. He loosened his tie to get some air. His steps slowed. “Déjà vu,” he said under his breath.
“Huh?” Ellen asked, taking her eye away from the camera eyepiece.
“I don’t know,” Mark said. “It just seems like I’ve seen this place before.”
“I always said I thought you were off your rocker,” Ellen said.
“I wondered who was spreading those rumors,” Mark said. He stopped at one of the closed doors. He reached for the antique, crystal knob. “Very familiar.” He paused before touching the knob, drew his hand back a few inches.
Mark looked back at Ellen. He took a deep breath, then turned to face the door again. He reached forward and grabbed the knob. He turned it and pushed. It didn’t budge. Mark exhaled slowly, then pulled his shaking hand away from the door. ”Locked.”
“I guess these were patients’ rooms,” Ellen said.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Mark pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“What else would they be?” Ellen asked.
Mark turned to continue farther down the corridor. “Treatment rooms,” Mark said. He wondered why he said that… why he even thought that. Some kind of feeling deep down inside, a very dark feeling.
Mark tried several other doors as they moved farther down the hallway. All were locked. At the end of the corridor stood a pair of oak doors. Mark tried one — it opened to the outside.
The bright sun and fresh air were a deep contrast to the stifling darkness of the hospital. Mark stepped outside and took a deep breath.
Ellen followed him outside and they both looked over the campus.
The campus was much larger than what Mark expected. There were at least a dozen buildings, and several large, grassy areas. The campus had to have been quite amazing at one time, but now it was rundown. The grass could stand to be mowed, and most of the buildings were past due a coat of paint by at least several years. One building, located at the very rear of the campus, stood out from the rest. It was smaller than the others, only two stories. The most striking difference were the windows — they were barred.
Mark pointed at the rear building: “That looks interesting. Let’s go take a look.” Mark headed for the rear building.
“Damn,” Ellen said behind him.
Mark stopped. He looked back. “What?”
Ellen was fiddling with the camera. “Juice is low. I must have left the spare battery pack in the car.”
Mark put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Brilliant. You’re a professional, right?”
“Don’t have a cow,” Ellen said. “I’ll run and get the spare. I’ll meet you over there.”
Ellen went back into the building.
Mark just shook his head as he watched the door close behind his so-called videographer. Mark headed across the unkempt grounds to the smaller, two-story building. It wasn’t a long walk, though with each step the grass seemed to get taller and taller… and for some unknown reason, each step seemed to get harder and harder. Mark felt a sense of dread coming over him the closer he got to the building. He noted the building had only one pair of doors in the center of the front, and another, single door on the narrow side closest to him. A rickety fire escape rose from the side door to the second floor. Mark headed for the front door, protected from the weather by a small awning. As he approached the door, Mark’s legs felt like logs. So heavy they seemed almost impossible to lift. As Mark contemplated the door, he looked down at his hands. Both were visibly shaking. “What the hell?” Mark asked himself.
He looked back at the main building. No Ellen in sight. No one in sight. He pulled a mini-bottle from his jacket pocket, twisted off the top and downed the contents. He put the empty bottle back in his coat pocket and checked his hands again. Still shaking. He wrung his hands together, hoping to stop the uncontrolled tremors, then looked at the door. He reached for the knob, hand slowly crossing the space, pausing before actually coming into contact with the knob. Finally, he crossed the gap and grabbed the knob and twisted. Locked. He felt like a weight dropped off when he couldn’t get inside. He moved slowly toward the window in the door to try and get a look inside, but it was painted over on the inside.
Mark walked along the front of the building. He found all the windows opaque with paint and protected by bars. At the side of the building he spotted a window where it looked like the paint had been scraped away. The clear section of the window was higher up, so Mark grabbed the bars and pulled himself up, struggling to climb high enough to see inside. His head reached the level of the window and he looked inside. It was difficult to see into the room, with the bars keeping him away from the glass and the sun shining from behind him. What he could see, briefly, was an old gurney, several sinks along the walls, a cabinet, and what looked like a drain in the middle of the floor.
Mark’s arms began to shake convulsively. They gave out and he dropped back to the ground. He began gasping for air. He loosened his tie, and leaned back against the wall for support. He bent forward, hands on his knees to hold him up as he gulped for air. A cloud passed over his vision, and things kept getting darker as he slid down to the ground. His lungs ached for air and the ground started to spin, turning faster and faster, his vision getting darker and darker, until everything went totally black.
Ellen loaded the spare batteries and stepped into the next building, hoping to get some good footage before she had to catch up with Mark. It was dark inside, so she switched the camera into night mode, using the monitor to guide her way. The green and black picture gave the building an eerie look.
The building was similar to the wing they had just left. Evenly spaced doors, sconce light fixtures along the walls. She was about a quarter of the way down the hall when a door behind her opened, light spilling in.
She turned to see the dark silhouette of a man blocking the light in the door.
“Hey! What are you doing in here?” the deep voice reverberated down the hallway.
Ellen lowered the camera and headed back toward the man.
When she got closer, she noted he was wearing blue scrubs, a name tag hanging from his collar. The man was in his mid-twenties and well built. “Hi,” she said. “Chicago TV News. We’re doing a story on the hospital.”
“You shouldn’t be in here,” the man said.
“I’m sorry,” Ellen said. “I’m just trying to get a feel for the place.”