The Pale King - XIV

Part 1

Thumbing through the dark was not what Dr. Henry Starcross had expected to be doing this weekend. Lockdowns were a standard procedure for the sanitarium even before it was converted from a prison before the war. But all the same he was glad he was away from the others above as he and the three men he took with him from the security room made their way from the kitchen to the connecting hall to the morgue hallway below. When the building was still a prison it had a fully functional subbasement. That subbasement was sectioned off as they only needed the room above and one quadrant for the morgue. Starcross had learned about this only after he was made head doctor. As well as being the main physician who oversaw patient intake and primary care, he was also the administrator, or the warden, to the older patients.

                All that didn’t matter now as he crawled in the dark corridors lost to time and covered in dust. Cobwebs blocked is path and even the faint light of an orderlies matches, were little help to guide them through. They didn’t speak much but one orderly, who had been at the sanitarium years longer than Starcross made a comment.

                “Looks like we’re setting a new record.”

                “Shut it.” Starcross chirped over his shoulder. He was done with talk about records and past lockdowns. So what if one lockdown lasted an hour, what if a lockdown saw the death of a patient, what if a lockdown lasted eight hours and saw the death’s of fifteen patients and five orderlies? Nothing. Those who survived, survived to tell the story, nothing else. Starcross didn’t care about records or what they’d say to him when the inquiry came, he simply cared about living.

                Thankfully for their plight the layout of the corridors was practically mirrored to the corridors upstairs, the building being a layer cake of the same pattern with the biggest difference there being no large rooms below like the common or dining rooms. Below they heard nothing save the silence and whispers of years long past. Cells that were long empty of prisoners, solitary confinement rooms locked and forgotten, and articles of clothing left to rot on the floor with no purpose. Above they heard the commotion of dozens of feet slothing around bumping into one another. Fights could be heard breaking out. Starcross couldn’t’ tell if it was the orderlies trying to regain composure or if it was the patients finally turning on one another. Again, this didn’t’ matter, the upper floor could be flooded with blood or a fire could break out, Henry didn’t give a shit. He clenched his teeth and moved forward.

                Being as this section of the sanitarium, or the old prison, didn’t have electric power wired to it anymore, the faint red light of the morgue was the only thing casting shadows. Starcross felt a wave of relief come at the sight of the red lights, the same red lights that made him cringe in fear just minutes before. They were a sign of relief now.

                Stepping out into the light of the corridor he could only see one many by the freezer door closing it slowly. Beyond, coming out of a storage room doorway was a wheelchair, and the silhouette of a man seated in it. The man at the freezer door turned but his face was obscured in darkness.

                “Who is it? Who’s there?” Starcross said keeping the others back in the darkness of the hall.

                “Doctor?” The man said.

                “James?”

                “Doctor!?” another voice came from the dark behind them.

                Starcross turned.

                “Doctor!?” the voice in the darkness came again, an echo from down the hall. They had been followed.

                “What’s going on here?” Starcross said bringing his attention back to James, or at least it sounded like James.

                “Just putting more bodies in the morgue. I couldn’t let them suffer out here.” James said slowly.

                “Doctor!!” the voice came again, this time it was closer. The voice sounded like…

                “Thomas!?” Starcross called back.

                “Yes!” the voice responded.

                “What do you mean suffer?” one of the orderlies said stepping forward.

                “I couldn’t let them go on suffering. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to watch them suffering.”

                Starcross looked again at James his eyes focusing on the man’s hands. They were a darker shade than the rest of him. They were covered in blood.

                “Get back Joseph!” Starcross called to the man who had stepped forward but it was too late. James pounced on the man and started attacking him.

                “Doctor.” The voice was closer now in the dark but it wasn’t Thomas. It was someone else.

                Starcross felt his teeth clench to the point of shattering. Out of the darkness came Reginald, the leader of the pack from yellow ward. His face, shirt, and arms were drenched in blood. His eyes were cold and black. His voice was quiet and calm. Starcross was caught between two madmen. The yellow ward patients fell upon the other orderlies in haste leaving only Henry alive clutching his chest, breathing heavily. His breath came in short bursts and he felt his limbs go numb. Slumping against the wall he tried to look at James but his eyes went grey with a filmy haze. He blinked to make it subside. When he opened his eyes Reginald was nose to nose with him, his black eyes shining in the red light.

                “Thank you for getting us here doctor. Now, it’s time to rest.”

                Starcross felt the muscles in his chest contracting, pulling themselves to hell around his heart. The life was being sucked out of him and there was nothing he could do. The door to the outside was only yards away.

             "Damn." Starcross hissed through gritted teeth. The last breath choked from his lungs as he lay in a heap on the ground. Darkness overtook him.

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