The vegetation that continued to flourish in the garden held Alister’s attention. He pressed his face against the glass and clenched his jaw.
“It’ll never last.”
“What won’t last?” Bruce asked. He had escorted Alister to his room after meeting with Director Conroy.
“Everything being so alive outside.” He moved away from the window. “It is all going to brown again, and that will force Anna to cover my window.”
Bruce pursed his lips, shook his head and looked away. “You should try and get some rest.”
Alister sat in his chair. “I’m not tired.” He crossed his legs. “I’m curious to know why I’ve never met you before.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Bruce with a forced smile.
Bruce made no attempt to hide his amusement. He moved to the window and pointed toward the bench in the garden. “I think we’ve seen each other before. I believe I waved hello to you from over there, but you ignored me.”
The memory widened Alister’s eyes. “You were the guy in the garden digging holes for the plants.” He stood. “But you’re a patient.”
“Don’t be silly, Alister,” Bruce said. He walked to the door, opened it and stepped into the hallway. He looked left and right and turned back to Alister. “You have no idea how crazy you sound sometimes.”
The door closed, and Alister listened to Bruce’s laughter fade. He moved to the bed and, lying prone, he began to count out loud. He planned to stop when he reached a thousand. Tired of the lies and constant confusion, he decided the best way to get the truth was by becoming proactive.
Alister extended his count to fifteen hundred before he got out of bed and moved toward the door. He peeled away the corner of the paper that covered the small window and scanned what little he could see of the hallway.
“It is time to get some answers,” he said.
Confident the hallway was unoccupied, he pulled the door open enough to fit his head through. He looked left and right, and everything was clear.
He drew a deep breath, stepped into the hallway, paused and listened. The complete silence kept him still. No moans, no screams. No doctors or orderlies moved about.
There should be screams, shouldn’t there?
He trudged forward and settled in front of a door directly across the hall from his. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered into the small pane of glass. The contents of the room were almost identical to his. It had a small table pushed against the wall, a twin-size bed and a chair positioned in front of a window. There was an obvious outline of a person that sat in the chair and remained still.
Alister raised his knuckles to the door and paused. “No,” he said, and he lowered his hand.
He turned away from the door and started to walk down the hallway.
“Keep your thoughts straight.”
When Bruce had escorted him back to his room from the director’s office, he was determined to memorize every turn, fire extinguisher and numbered room.
“Now let’s see how good my memory really is.”
When he arrived at the director’s office door, Alister didn’t hesitate. He twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The lights in the room were off, and the closed blinds allowed slivers of horizontal beams of sunlight bathe the director’s desk in a blinding brilliance that cast eerie shadows. Director Conroy was seated behind his desk, facedown with arms spread wide on the desktop.
“Director Conroy?” Alister said. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The director didn’t stir, and Alister edged toward him.
“Director Conroy?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He paused.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Alister crept closer still.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A stream of blood that came from the director’s nose stained his upper lip and glistened in the strange light. Alister stood over him, unsure what to do.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Where is that coming from?”
A small pool of blood that surrounded the director’s head brought Alister close to the director, to his knees and then underneath the desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The blood dripped off the desk and into an open drawer that held a book. Alister took possession of the book and inspected it. It was old and smelled that way, too. The overstuffed binding was split and pages hung out, unattached.
“You shouldn’t be out of your room.”
Alister jumped back and dropped the book. Newspaper clippings, photos and other unidentifiable contents spilled out onto the floor. He turned toward the door with wide eyes, and the powerful thump of his heart hammered inside his chest.
“You need to return to your room and pretend you never saw this,” Michael said. He closed the office door.
“Is she making you do this?” Alister said.
The sweat reflected off of Michael’s head, and his skin was so pale he appeared to glow in the dark.
Alister picked up a photograph that had fallen out of the book and held it in the light. It was his precious Becca wrapped in a towel. Her lips were blue and her eyes partly open. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Michael took a step forward. “And she warned me not to talk to you about it. She has my wife and daughter.”
Alister saw that same desperate expression staring back at him once before. It was in the mirror the day he placed the gun in his mouth and it misfired.
“She’s evil,” Michael said. “She’s going to torture them.”
Alister examined the photograph and saw his wife lying in a pool of blood, her wrists slashed. He looked away from the photo. He leaned against the desk and tried to catch his breath.
“Has she begun to kill again?” Alister said.
Michael looked over his shoulder, his focus toward the door. “Keep your voice low. I don’t know where she is, and I don’t want to think about what will happen if she finds us in here with him.” He gestured toward the director.
Alister dropped the photograph. “The killings?” he asked. His teeth showed and a sudden surge of defiance helped him stand upright. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the killings or I’ll start shouting. I swear I will.”
The past.
Compressors rattled loudly and made the floor vibrate. Michael leaned against the wall to rest his hip, which thundered with pain. The intense heat of the boilers working to warm the entire hospital brought sweat to his brow, and the smell of oil was strong. He covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief.
“Michael do this, Michael do that,” he said as he shined a flashlight on the low hanging pipes and made his way to the compressors. He examined the machinery as he hobbled by it, looking for obvious signs of a malfunction. A leak, smoke, fire, anything that might tell him in his limited knowledge that there might be a problem.
“Now I’m a maintenance man, too. Why don’t they get themselves a replacement when he goes on vacation?”
He came upon a boiler butted against Terry’s makeshift wall. A cool breeze touched Michael’s arm, and he shined his light down the tunnel, which consumed it.
“I hate it down here.”
He swept the light back and forth, forgetting the pain in his leg for the moment. Jumping back, he saw that Terry was lying on the floor face up with his legs folded under him toward his torso.
“Terry,” Michael said as he shined the flashlight over him. He didn’t see any visible injuries, and there wasn’t any blood. He squatted next to Terry and tried to roll him flat. His body was stiff. Michael scrambled to his feet and shuffled toward the exit.
“Slow down,” Anna said. She descended the steps and settled on the bottom stair.
Michael turned and pointed toward Terry. “It’s Terry. He’s on the floor, and I think he’s dead.”
“Oh, he’s dead.” Anna shook her head. “Everyone thinks he’s away on vacation.” She smiled. “I would like to keep it that way.”
Michael looked toward Terry and then turned back to Anna. “I don’t understand. We can’t just leave him there.” He started to step past Anna.
Anna stood in front of Michael. “Think about what you’re doing,” Anna said. “I would hope you wouldn’t get in my way after I’ve been so nice to you.”
“What are you talking about?” Michael’s brows wrinkled. He pointed at Terry. “A man is on the floor over there dead.”
“Yes, he is,” Anna said. “And it’s because of me.”
“What do you mean because of you?”
Anna moved off the bottom step. “It’s exactly as I said. I did it.”
Michael pushed himself past Anna, his eyes wide with fear. He struggled up the steps.
“Michael?” Anna asked, and he stopped. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Suddenly his knees buckled, and he grabbed at a sharp stabbing pain that came from somewhere deep in his gut.
“I don’t think you want to know what I’m doing to you,” Anna said. “It is merely a show so you know that I’m not fooling around. I am who Alister says.”
“Please,” he begged, gasping. “Make it stop and I’ll do whatever you need.”
And like a switch being flipped, the pain disappeared. Michael sucked in a deep breath and sat on the top step. He felt his abdomen and couldn’t find any pain. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Anna. Her hands were clasped behind her back and she stood by the makeshift wall.
Michael forced himself to stand, and he went to her. Anna held out her hand, and it began to steam.
“The hot air is interacting with the coldness of my skin. After all, when one is dead, their skin does not generate heat.” She moved her hand to her side. “Alister seemed to have picked up on this right away.”
“How…” Michael said, fighting all the questions. “Why?” He lowered his chin. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve come to claim my prize,” Anna said. “Because if someone can show me that much affection, then what they have to offer must be limitless. I have been around since the creation of life, and I have never experienced anything like it. I won’t let it go. Not ever.”
“But why do you have to kill?” Michael said. “He is yours to take if that is what you want. I won’t stand in your way.”
“Everyone’s life is mine to take. It is what I was created to do. To kill.” She smiled, and it quickly faded. “Don’t take what I’ve come to do personally. Think of it as business.”
Michael swallowed hard. “And what have you come to do?”
“Create utopia,” Anna said. “Do my bidding and live. Cross me one time and your wife and daughter will suffer immeasurably. Not a word to anyone.”
Michael nodded. “Where do we fit into your utopia?”
Anna smirked, turned away and started up the metal steps. “That depends on you and your level of cooperation.”
Present day.
“That is how the killings began,” Michael said. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” He began to cry. “But how could someone ever hope to understand what you claimed to be true?”
“Who did she tell you she was?”
Michael shook his head. “She’s death incarnate, Alister, and you are her prize.”
Alister swore he felt his heart stop, yet he continued to live.
The past.
“I want you to go home and get your wife and daughter,” Anna said to Michael, and she turned away. “You have one hour to make it there and back. If you deviate from my instructions at all, you will be introduced to a heart attack.” She clasped her hands behind her back, whistled and started to walk away.
“Oh, wait,” she said, spinning on her heels. “I should warn you, though. I’ve begun to make my utopia, and there are few who will live long enough to see it.” She pointed to the clock on the wall. “Hurry along. Your hour starts now.”
Michael looked at his watch.
Ten o’clock.
He hurried from the hospital. His handicap kept his ability to move quickly at a minimum. Minutes later, he got into his four-cylinder economy car wishing he had a Porsche. Starting the engine and throwing the gear into drive, he stomped down on the gas pedal and the front wheels skidded. The car raced out of the parking lot and onto residential streets.
Vehicle accidents littered the roads and dead bodies were scattered as far as the eye could see, dropped wherever they were when death struck. The devastation was surreal, like watching a horror film. He tried not to notice details but couldn’t muster the will to look away.
Michael had to slow down as the maze of cars tightened. He weaved in and out of tight paths, and a vehicle that had run headlong into a telephone pole stole his attention. Its hood was crinkled, its windshield cracked and steam bellowed from the front end. The driver’s head was bloody and pushed into the steering wheel. His weight engaged the horn, causing a constant blare.
The man slowly lifted his head and looked at Michael. “Please, help me.” Flaps of flesh hung from his face, and his wounds bled in a thick, oozing stream.
Michael trembled and shouted out. “Damn it.” He clutched the steering wheel and slammed on the gas, and the small car collided with stalled vehicles, bouncing off them as it carved its way out of the metal and rubber graveyard.
The rearview mirror showed the increasing distance Michael placed between himself and that man, and he barked his displeasure of having to do that.
Michael turned on the radio and tapped the program button in search of a distraction. Every station had static.
“My God,” Michael said as he turned the radio off. He concentrated on maneuvering around clusters of stalled cars, and he tried to keep his focus away from the people that ran after his vehicle. Their screams of desperation made his skin crawl.
Michael directed the vehicle toward his lawn and pounded the brakes. He tried to run into his house but could only manage a hurried wobble.
“It’s Michael. Where are you?”
A distant horn blared, a house alarm wailed and the desperate shouts of those near and far away distracted him.
Michael climbed the stairs. He tried the bathroom door and it was locked. “Open the door. I’ve come to get you out of here.”
His wife opened the door. His daughter stood behind her. She held a large knife.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said, and her body shook. “People have been running around in hysterics. They’re dying out there.”
Michael eased the knife out of her hand and set it down on the sink. “Come,” he said, and he picked up his daughter. “We have to get away from here.” He looked at his watch.
10:33.
He directed his wife down the stairs and to his vehicle.
“Is this some sort of an attack?”
“I’ll explain along the way,” he said. He shielded his daughter from the chaos. “Keep your eyes closed, baby.”
His wife climbed into the back seat and lay prone. Michael placed his daughter next to her. “Keep your heads down, and don’t look up no matter what you hear.” He closed the door behind them.
“Michael,” his neighbor Ralph said. “Thank God you came home.” He ran over to Michael. Blood leaked from his ears and stained his shirt. “There’s something wrong with Linda. You’ve got to help me.”
“There is nothing I can do for you, Ralph. I’m sorry.” He rounded the car and opened the driver’s door.
“Please!” Ralph said, and he grabbed his arm. “Help me get her into your car. We can take her to a doctor.”
“Have you looked at yourself?” He shrugged off Ralph’s grip. He looked to his wife and daughter, who continued to hide in the back seat. “You’re in no better shape than she is.”
“She’s suffering terribly and the phones aren’t working. You’ve got to help me.”
“I can’t,” Michael said as he attempted to get into the car. Ralph yanked his arm. The force threw him to the ground. The flesh on his knees and elbows ripped open.
“We’ve known you for over twenty years, and this is how you treat us?” Ralph kicked Michael in the ribs. Michael gasped.
“I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
Michael struggled to his feet, balled his fist and, with all of his might, swung it into the center of Ralph’s face. With the sound of a crack, Ralph yelped and fell flat on his back.
10:41
“I’m sorry, old friend,” Michael said as he tired to shake the sting from his knuckles. “But I have to worry about my family.”
Michael jumped into his vehicle and sped toward the hospital, uncertain if he had enough time to make it back.
Present day.
“I can’t take much more,” Michael said, and he sat on the floor with his back against the wall. “I’m so damn tired.”
Michael’s eyes were so puffy and red that Alister didn’t know how he could see out of them. “How long ago did this start happening?”
Michael looked to Alister from somewhere far away.
“Michael? When did this first happen?”
“I can’t even think. I just need to get some sleep.”
“I need you to answer my question.”
“I don’t know.” Michael opened his hands. “Three, maybe four days ago. The days started blending together, and she won’t let me sleep.”
Alister knelt beside Michael. “What else does she have you doing?”
“Clearing the hospital grounds of the dead.”
“How many?”
“I think she got all of them.”
Alister stood and ran taut fingers through his hair.
“She put together a group of people that begged for their lives. She made them work.”
“Doing what?”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t know, mainly removing dead plant life outside your room. Then she made them put in living plants. That is when she took you outside.”
Alister paced the floor. “I knew it.”
Michael looked at the director’s lifeless body and slapped his hands over his ears. “The sound of his blood dripping off the desk is driving me crazy.”
Alister forced Michael’s hands away from his ears. “She’s going to kill you like she did everyone else. Get yourself together.”
“I can’t,” Michael said. “I don’t have the energy. Just let me sleep for a while.”
“No. We need to kill her; it’s the only way.”
Michael shook his head. “We can’t kill something that is already dead.”
“She’s vulnerable,” Alister said. “She had to give up something to come here, and I think I know what that is. I can’t do this alone.”
Michael rubbed his eyes. “OK.” He drew a deep breath and stood. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to distract her.”
“OK.” Michael nodded his head and swallowed hard. “But don’t forget she has my wife and daughter.”