Chapter #3Hospital (maybe naked) by: upanddown   The whine of fluorescent bulbs sounds magnified ten fold to your aching ears.An unfamiliar sensation tingles and itches upon your face. A strong, anti-septic smell clouds your sense of smell. You look around yourself, you recognize the room. Or you think you do. You feel like you remember dreaming it. It's a hospital lobby. Empty.
A thick chill races up and down your spine. This cold is very real. It might help to find something to cover up with. You take two deep breaths, then tuck your hands into your armpits for warmth. Your soaked fur leaves a translucent trail wherever you walk, you take a mental note to inform the staff. If you find anyone that is. You approach the main desk, only to discover a seat with an abandoned sweater hanging off the back.
"Is anybody there?" You say between bouts of chattering teeth.
No response. The rumble of the rain deafening in the silence of the hospital. With nothing to lose, nor anyone to tell you no, you walk around the counter and scoop up the sweater. The fabric swallows your thin arms and dangles low to the ground. The owner of the sweater must be at least three times your size.
An ID badge dangling from the collar confirms your theory. A positively cherubic fox smiles for the camera. His plump cheeks dimple with the curve of his lips. His loose jowls caught in mid jiggle.
"Anthony Gaines? Security?" You read the black text beneath his picture. "Like this guy is stopping anyone."
Desperate for warmth, you throw the billowing sweater over your naked body. The thick fabric dangles past your groin and rubs against your knees while you stand. The faint smell of sweat and grease emanates from the fiber. You grimace a little, better this than nothing you suppose.
One cursory glance at his desk and you realize the great big security guard left his sandwich half-eaten. Not to judge, but you figure a guy of his stature never left a bite behind. Not unless something urgent happened. You gulp and jiggle the mouse at the computer terminal at his desk.
The screen saver leaves to reveal he started a game of mine-sweeper. He started it four hours ago, with the clock still ticking. You minimize the window to find nothing else interesting on his desktop. A sigh escapes your lips while you try and click around for something helpful.
Hospital Intranet? That piques your interest. You double click it to reveal his e-mail minimized in the task tray.
"Tonygaines@zcgh.net: strange happenings."
You click further.
"Fellow security staff,
Anyone else hear the stuff going on in the East Wing at night? I thought it was the graveyard shift moving cadavers at first, but the morgue downstairs stayed untouched when I checked later. I might just be getting paranoid, but someone's sneaking in after hours.
"Re:strange happenings.
IDK Tony, I don't hear it on my shift. Could just be the pipes. This place is old as sin after all."
You scroll through message after message, much of it the same. Tony seems convinced of something though. You check the garbage bin of his e-mail, it hasn't been emptied that day. The e-mail is addressed to him, from himself, and deleted. Curious, you click it.
"Fat dope,
Keep this East Wing business to yourself or there are going to be consequences
- J"
A loud thunder clap shakes the air outside, and causes the lights to flicker, then go out. The computer terminal shuts down and leaves you in the dark. Thankfully, your natural night vision begins to set in. You can see, but not well enough to navigate your unfamiliar surroundings.
You search the desk and find a penlight. Once more, better this than nothing. You click the light on and make your way to the front door. Much to your surprise, a police officer awaits you. Much like Tony, he appears to be thrice your own size..
"Hey! What're you doing here?"
Shocked, you freeze in place. You've never been one to break the law. Yet it seemed all to convenient that someone show up when you learn a little more about this Tony fellow. Rather than risk meeting whatever fate he did, you bolt in the opposite direction.
The officer attempts to follow you, only to slide in the water you tracked in.
He falls to the ground and cries out in pain. He lays there and groans for a moment. This is your chance.
You dash down the hall. The baggy sweater catching your feet ever so often. You stumble, but manage to keep some balance. You check door after door in an attempt to hide. Your paws fumbling over the knobs in the dark. Finally one door works. You throw open the door and run inside.
Darkness stares back at you from the depths of a stairwell. Heavy panting and lumbering footsteps echo down the hall. Someone's on your trail. Cautious, but deliberate, you move into the darkness. You hunt each step with your feet.
A nagging thought came to mind. How far will this lead you? Some part of you is convinced it might lead out. The same part that drew you to the hospital for shelter, perhaps. The scent of formaldehyde stings your nose the further you walk along. You point the penlight ahead and notice a metal door.
The morgue is just ahead. You gulp and peek over your shoulder. The chances of you making it in one piece might very well be in the hands of the dead.
You open the metal door and lock it behind you. That might keep some pursuers at bay. At least for awhile. You pace around the chilled metal room. Rows and rows of the dead rested before you. You focus the light on a stainless steel table. Judging by the instruments and tools surrounding it, you figure someone used it not too long ago.
A few discarded syringes dotted an empty dish. An empty IV pouch sat beside the table. Odd, in that the dead had little use for life preserving measures. Someone operated on a living patient, you are certain. A pile of clothing is folded with care on the floor by the table.
Upon closer inspection they appear similar in size to the sweater now draped upon your body. What exactly happened to this Tony fellow? Perhaps you did not want to know. You take a few steps back, when a bright flashlight beam lit up your eyes.
"Don't move."
The cop from earlier somehow got through the lock. You look in his paw and notice a key ring dangling from his wrist. Who gave him that, you wonder? You hold your hands up and sigh. Your first day you remember in the city, and it's going conclude in jail.
"You're lucky I found you first. There are others trying to find you." The cop held ups his own hands. "I thought I told you to get out of the city first, why did you come back to the hospital."
"I-I don't remember you talking to me. I don't even remember you."
"Christ, not even my face?"
"Nothing. I don't even remember my own name."
"Perhaps it's best we speak in private. Just come with me and I promise I will get you out of here in one piece."
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