The Pale King - XII

Part 1

In the ensuing chaos of so many men roaming the halls at once Thomas took much longer reaching the security room than he originally expected. Once all the cell doors were open practically every man from Thomas’ room to the intersection had shambled out blocking his path. On the floor he could see the footsteps in red going towards the morgue, but more blood would soon follow. Once at the intersection, directly below the first glass window he saw a band of men in yellow ward jumpers, now covered in red blood, moving with purpose back towards black ward. They were on a mission and he wanted to steer clear of them.

In his years living amongst the other men he had never spent any time with the yellow ward patients. They were few in number, owing to the fact that capital punishment usually got them before they were interred saving the craziest for four walls and no escape. And Thomas, not being a staff member, was resigned to staying as far as the common room, away from yellow ward and their bloodlust. He had heard stories of the men that lived there now. One man who had raped and murdered women apparently emulating Jack the Ripper. Two men that had murdered and mutilated an entire family. One man who had set his one home ablaze after killing his family in their beds. And one man who beat his sister to death, ripping her jaw from her face and biting off her tongue before drinking some blood. The idea of that man gave Thomas chills. But seeing him made his blood run cold.

At the head of the pack Thomas knew it was that man, the sister killer, that stood taller than the others, blood running down his shirt. His black eyes barely caught the red light and thankfully for Thomas and the others mumbling stupidly in the halls, they didn’t catch them either. His vision was set on something else, somewhere else and he pushed past the rest to get there. Thomas caught his breath and stifled his twitching just enough to ease past someone before making his way to the stairwell leading up to the security room.

                The door was open, and the room was empty.

                “Fuck…fuck!” Thomas said first and his Tourette’s echoed. Where they hell had they gone? He wondered looking out the large windows. He had never been up to this room. He had only had the luxury to imagine what could be seen from the plans he had looked over. Now he could see most of the rooms and hallways below. Normally, he assumed they would be empty, now they were teeming with life. Simple, shambling, mumbling, life. Thomas was reminded of fish in a stream swimming freely in one regard, but also constrained.

                He didn’t have time to dawdle. He had to find the doctor. He looked around the windows but couldn’t see him and the other men that were most likely with him. He couldn’t see any staff members anywhere. Below in the kitchen he saw one man who had been attacked it looked like and in the yellow ward he saw the remains of a few men that made his stomach jump. He had to turn away from the window lest he get puke on himself from it splashing off the glass.

                “This is bad. Really bad. Worse than then that’s for sure.” Thomas turned away from the glass and leaned against the table.

                “Where the hell did they go? I didn’t’ see them pass me, plus I doubt they’d want to contend with the yellows right now. Think dammit think. Where could they go?” Thomas sat down and closed his eyes. He tried to remember the layout of the sanitarium to remember any other places to hide or escape. He was sure there was only five exits from the building. The main entryway, the connector from the dining area to the recreational yard outside, the morgue expulsion dock, the roof, and the yellow ward connection bay. All outside doors would be locked tight from the lock down and the morgue entrance was in the black ward. There was no other way down or out.

                “Wait.” Thomas retraced the map in his head. He remembered seeing something crossed out from in the kitchen.

                “A back way?” Thomas stood and looked back towards the kitchen. The darkness loomed and the red lights cast long shadows when they flashed on and off. He took a deep breath and looked for a weapon just in case. But there was nothing. He clenched his fists and clicked his teeth stifling his tick as much as he could. He had to find the doctor. He had to get out. Being sent here wasn’t a death sentence, and he didn’t intend on dying.

Next →