Part 4 (Final): I'm a security guard in an old mental hospital. I found something in the basement tunnels..
This will be my final post from the mental hospital, at least for now. I’ll explain.
Last night I came to work prepared, not just for my night shift, but to explore the sub-basement tunnels afterwards. My backpack held an extra flashlight, an 8-pack of batteries, a can of anti-rust spray for the elevator and locks along the way, water, food, lighters, and matches, plus a couple candles for good measure. I also included a large knife which I would put around my waist once I got down there. I was wishing I had a gun. On the other hand, bullets ricochet, and who knows where one might end up if I fired a pistol down there. I could easily end up shooting myself, that fact only made more obvious because I had no firearms knowledge or experience. Unlike most of the security guards around the hospital, I had no aspirations to become a cop.
My plan was simple. I would work my night shift and then at 7AM, when the day guard came on, I would tell him I was going up to the roof for a smoke, and that I would go back down another ladder closer to the hospital entrance to get out and leave for the day. Matt hadn’t seemed bothered or concerned when I had used the excuse on him, and he was the one coming in to relieve me, so I didn’t think it would be an issue. I would use the key I had stolen to go back down the elevator and explore.
My headache was pounding, getting worse by the hour. It no longer went away completely when I slept, instead hanging around in my dreams. My dream-self would complain about it to my dream-companions. The dreams would turn to nightmares and I would have visions of myself, chained to a post in the basement of Century Manor, of ice picks and sledge hammers being pounded into my skull, by Doug of course, his daughter laughing happily while she watched, swinging her legs excitedly from atop the plastic wrapped table where she perched, asking, “Can I help, Daddy? Can I pull out his tongue next, pleeeeaaaasse?”
I would wake and the sun from outside my window would assault me immediately. I would feel like a knife was being driven into my skull. I had started taking four and five codeine pain-killers at a time, and my head was starting to feel fuzzy from the constant narcotic effect. They did little to help, though.
When the time came this morning at the end of my shift, I was ready. Matt came in and we had a quick chat and discussed the issues of the night before – there hadn’t been any. It had been quiet, aside from another six patients had gone missing. Everyone assumed they had absconded. I knew it may not have been that simple.
Marianne, the queen-bee nurse who worked on E-3, interrupted us by buzzing to get out of the unit. Her shift was over. She looked up at the camera expectantly and waited for the click of the magnetic lock. I rolled my desk chair over, wheeling half-way across the room with one quick push of my legs. I hit the “5” button, then the “4” and she came out into the alcove in front of us, separated from us by the glass window and a locked steel door. The alcove was where we would pass out a metal detector for the nurses to wave over the patients as they came back from their jaunts outside the unit, their privileges. It was a medium-sized glass-walled room where patients and staff entered and exited the unit.
I was about to look back at Matt when I noticed Marianne was smiling broadly at me. I was surprised and did a quick double-take. She had always hated me, I thought, though I couldn’t determine why. The smile she had on now she usually reserved for patients, when she was trying to get them to do something they didn’t want to do, and it faded immediately when she turned around. I had seen it on camera last night from one of the many monitors in my booth. A patient hadn’t wanted to take his medication. She had said a few words to him, smiling as she was now, and he took the pills and swallowed them dry. She had turned and looked away from him, her face had gone hard and cold instantly.
This grin, on the other hand, looked genuine. I was surprised to see she actually looked radiant, her white hair streaming out behind her as she walked past.
“Goodnight, Jordan,” she said, as she walked up to door number three. It was morning but when you work nights that’s what you say as you leave, as well as the prerequisite, “have a good sleep,” which she tacked on next. She was actually being friendly! I couldn’t believe it. I found myself smiling back, before I could stop myself. I told you, I have a sickness, needing people to like me.
“You too!” I waved at her and buzzed her through doors 3, 2, and 1, so she could get out.
I looked back at Matt and saw him eying me strangely. “You two sure are chummy,” he said. “That one’s been a complete bitch to me since I started here, she called me an idiot the other day because the door got stuck.”
I told him we had never really gotten along either, that it was strange she was so nice all of a sudden, but maybe she was just happy to go home for the day. I finished my report and told him my cover story. I was going up to the roof for a smoke, then would take another ladder down and out the front entrance to get home. He looked a bit more suspicious this time, it was a bit unusual I suppose, but he said “sure” and I climbed up the ladder with my backpack, his eyes watching me the whole time, his brow furrowed.
I got up to the roof and found the old elevator chained up just as it had been before. I took the old key out of my pocket and gave the lock a spray with the lubricant cannister I had brought. I opened it up and I sprayed the elevator down with it as well, trying to get any moving parts. The last thing I wanted was to get stuck in that thing. I would probably die in there before anyone found me.
Using the big screwdriver that had been left there, I pried open the elevator doors again and got inside. I sprayed down the lever that controlled the box and pulled the lever down to B2.
The cage rattled and shook, but not as violently this time, and I managed to stay on my feet. I felt the box descend slowly again, into the darkness.
As I got down to the lower level, I found myself not wanting to turn on my flashlight. The darkness and cool air felt so good, and I felt my headache fading instantly. I wondered if my eyes would adjust down there if I gave them a few moments.
The cage stopped with a sudden jolt, and I nearly fell over. I grabbed the steel bars and righted myself. I left the door closed for a minute, to protect me while I waited for the dim outlines of the walls to appear. After several minutes, I finally was able to see slightly.
My headache was gone, leaving not a trace of discomfort. It was the best I had felt since, well, since I had been down in the tunnels last. It was weird, but the flies and the smell didn’t seem as bad this time, my brain fuzzy from lack of sleep and the effects of too many painkillers. I walked forward with my flashlight turned off and brushed my right hand against the walls as I walked, feeling its bumpiness and age with my fingertips. I finally came across the familiar graffiti – D.L. + M.B. 4EVER. I felt the carving with my fingers for a moment, like a pilgrim on a holy trek, touching a sacred object, and moved on.
I came to the intersection and already knew where I was going. Straight ahead, into what I presumed to be the longest section of tunnel leading into the meat of the hospital. Rats and mice streamed past my feet and I felt them brush against my legs in the dark, but they didn’t bother me.
The tunnel went on for a long time, until another intersection, where I was a little less clear where I wanted to go. I hesitated, and was about to go left, when I heard Samantha’s high-pitched laugh from far up ahead in the distance. Following the sound, I continued forward. At least I wouldn’t get lost if I just kept going straight, I thought.
The tunnel continued for another long stretch, mirroring the never-ending hallways in the basement above. It helped that I knew the hospital well, so I wasn’t scared of becoming lost. I would just picture the basement above me and use it as a guide.
That plan went to hell when I came across a hole in the side of the tunnel. It appeared to have been carved out roughly and imperfectly by the crude tools of amateurs. It opened up into a tunnel which descended downwards. The walls of this new tunnel were dirt, and appeared to have been dug in the same amateur fashion. It was narrower, too, and I found I had to get down on my hands and knees, even my belly in places, to get through.
I elbowed my way past rats and mice and they nipped at my hands playfully. They seemed friendly, and I wanted them to like me, so I let them. The smell was no longer bothering me, I noticed. I couldn’t even smell it anymore. The flies had become thicker, blanketing my face and tickling my eyeballs as they skittered across them. I didn’t swat them away, just continued crawling forward.
Eventually, I came out into an opening. It was dim, but my eyes slowly took in all the details. It appeared to be the vast cavern of a cave system, beneath the hospital. There was what appeared to be a natural rock formation which resembled a ramp leading downwards. I walked down slowly, watching my footing as the dirt slipped away beneath my feet occasionally, threatening to send me sliding off into the dark pit yawning beneath me to my right. I stayed close to the rock wall on my left, leaning against it for comfort. I’ve always been afraid of heights.
I finally got down to the floor of the cave and saw several tunnels opened up before me. I had no idea which one to go through next. I was at a crossroads again. I looked around and saw more details coming into focus in the darkness. In the area to my right was a shallow pit, filled with bodies, too many to count. The flies were gorging on them, making nests of eggs in the soft rotting flesh as it decayed. Millions of maggots were squirming everywhere, all throughout. Rats and mice scampered around the pile, pulling off ears and fingers and munching on them noisily. Normally that sort of thing would bother me.
I heard Samantha’s laugh from behind me – close this time - and hands grabbed me before I could react. I saw human forms appear from the shadows and saw they had been waiting for me down here. They had blended in with the shapes of the cave. I hadn’t even seen them, standing a few feet away from me.
As the person behind me zip-tied my wrists, expertly, not too loose or tight, I saw a face come into focus before my eyes. I was startled to see it was Marianne, the nurse from upstairs. The Queen Bee.
“Hello, Jordan, so glad to see you,” she purred, “We were hoping you would come down to meet us. We’ve been waiting for you.”
I looked around in shock to see there were more than a few of them living down here, there were a dozen of them at least. More came into focus everywhere I looked.
“We’ve lived down here for a long time,” she said, “Some, like you, can quickly adjust. You were built for it. Our ancestors were cave-dwellers, you know, for thousands of years along the way, during ice-ages, people lived in caves. This is how it was meant to be all along.” Her words were soothing, hypnotic. She stroked the side of my face and I felt my body tingle all over.
“You can cut him loose, Doug,” she said. I felt a knife cut loose the restraints which held my wrists. I stood there, looking at her, as she spoke. Flies crawled over her face and body, in and out of her nose.
“You need to understand, though, we have to eat. And some are not meant to live with us down here. Sam, for instance..” I thought back to the basement of Century Manor, the piles of body parts stacked like fresh butcher cuts, lined up on the tarp. So it appeared that Sam, the toady pedophile patient, had been a potential member of this group. But it appeared he hadn't made the cut. “They fulfill other purposes. He’s wasn’t like us, besides, we could have never trusted him alone with the children, you understand.” I nodded, entranced. A thought popped into my head. I tried to swat it away, but it persisted. I had to ask.
“And.. What about Rhonda?” I asked, still under her spell, just barely able to get the words out.
She smiled at me flirtatiously and touched my shoulder with her hand. I melted under her gaze and felt my knees buckle. How old was she? Her face looked so young but her hair told a different story. I wondered if the lack of light down here kept you looking young longer. No sun spots or wrinkles when there’s no sun, I thought sleepily. I was suddenly very tired. I wanted so badly to take a long nap.
She never did answer my question, at least not that I can remember. She led me over to a soft spot on the ground with a pillow. I lay down in the dirt and put my head down, falling asleep instantly.
I slept for a few hours, according to my phone when I woke up. The light from the screen was far too bright, and it hurt my eyes. Still, I felt like I should finish telling you all what happened to me, that I’m okay, I owe you that much for following along this far. I’m going to be fine down here, with the rest of the gang. We have everything we need. I typed this out with my phone on the dimmest setting possible, on blue-screen mode, anything to get rid of the blinding light of the screen, which threatened to bring that terrible headache back. Just the thought of it made me sick.
I asked Samantha if she could bring my phone upstairs next time she goes up to play, so that she can hit “post” on this when there’s enough signal to get it out to you all. Thank you for reading my story, sorry it didn’t turn out the way you might have hoped for me. But don’t worry about me down here. We have plenty of fresh water from an underground spring. It’s the cleanest-tasting water I’ve ever drank. There’s lots of food too, if you don’t mind eating only meat. It’s pretty much a carnivore diet down here, I’ve been told, except when Marianne brings down the occasional bag of veggies from the grocery store. She hates to go there, though, can’t stand it, in fact.
We do well enough, on our diet of roasted meat. Although it is a bit tough and stringy, not much fat content usually. A lot of meth users and heroin addicts end up in the mental hospital. They don’t always taste the best, I’ve been told. Marianne tries to pick out good ones for us, though.
Samantha tells me all these little tidbits. She and I have become fast friends. I was surprised to hear she’s actually a lot older than she looks. She doesn’t get out in the sun much, so that stunts her growth. She’ll never get wrinkles though, just like her mom.
Posted Jun 11, 2020, 4:22 PM UTC · edited