Chapter Twenty-Four: The Storm

John and Rob were two of the same. The same sense of humor, taste in girls, sports. Same job. They almost looked the same too. Except, Rob was taller and his manners left much to be desired. And also, John would never be caught hanging out with Rob on his downtime.

John didn't realize it, but his mind tried to draw as many parallels between them to make the reality of his new job a little more bearable. To feel as though he fit in with the people at this loon.

Rob crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a scowl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flattened pack of cigarettes and stuck one between his lips.

"You're gonna smoke?" John asked him, a little surprised.

"So what?" Rob grunted around the blunt, stuffing the packet, and trading it for the lighter he'd kept hidden in his front pocket. The stream of burning butane was the only thing which lit the hallway since the director insisted on conserving electricity at night.

When Rob snapped his wrist, the little flame cut out, drowning them in a gloom again. As John looked out through the barred window, he sighed. The sickle of the moon was hidden behind roiling clouds, pushed in from a westerly wind.

"I thought it wasn't supposed to rain," John muttered.

Rob held his cigarette between his middle and index finger. Smoke pushed out from his nose.

"Can't trust the weatherman. Motherfucker gets paid to lie."

John just shrugged.

"I remember when that Loon guy worked here," Rob began, "He hated it every time a storm came in. Would always want me to run extra rounds."

"You mean Dr. Loomis?"

"Old fart was a loon. Spent so many years working with that Myers sicko, I think it got to his head too." Rob took a long drag and released it in John's direction, then his gaze slid out the window. With a grimace, John waved the curling smoke away.

"A couple years back," Rob said, "I overheard loon tell this nurse a story about one Halloween night here."

Though his interest was an inkling, John still asked, "What happened?"

"Before I got here, one of the doctors threw this costume party for the kiddos— y'know...the…" His finger drew a few circles at his temple. "Y'know...And in the middle of it the generator went off for all of two minutes. When they turned it back on, the body of one of the kids was found in the middle of the party room— in one of those tubs you'd have for bobbing apples…" His jaw went slack and Rob's eyes rolled to the back of his head which bent to one shoulder.

The imagery was enough.

"Cut it out, man," John huffed.

"You're just a pussy." Then a dark grin spread over his face. "Which reminds me," he looked at his watch casually, "...Happy Halloween, princess."

Then, Rob acknowledged the door.

John gulped.

"Nurse June has been in there a little long don't you think?" The neophyte asked.

"Who cares? My shift is about to end soon. I just want to go home and pretend I'm not there so those brats don't come prancing on my doorstep."

"I'm serious. Should we check on her?"

Rob narrowed his eyes. "You want to fuck her."

John snaked his head back. "Wh-what? No!"

"No judge. I do too."

"What is wrong with you, dude? She's been in there for the past twenty minutes."

"She's probably dealin' Granny a load."

"I don't get it. Why does Dr. Wynn want us backing a schizophrenic when the most dangerous thing on this patient is her dentures? And, why is she being kept in an infirmary room?"

"Christ — you ask so many damn questions, Nancy. Look. Maybe the old bag broke her hip, earlier today."

John pursed his lips but was otherwise silent.

Embers sprinkled off the end of Rob's cigarette when his mouth hung open at the sound of a muffled bang shattering below them.

The cigarette fell out of his mouth.

"The fuck?"

"That sounded like a—"

"Gun," the orderlies both said.

Without hesitation, Rob spun on his heel in the direction of the nearest stairwell, smothering the cigarette with his shoe. "I'll be back, rookie," he called over his white clad shoulder.

John reached for his flashlight tucked into his back pocket, aiming it at his retreating coworker.

"You want me to stay here?"

"Duh." Rob pushed through the door and disappeared.

In the silence of the orderly's absence, John snapped a cautious look behind him, suddenly feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle at a low rumble which he thought came from the other end of the hall. Nothing revealed itself in the circle of light he wielded. But, when his eyes caught the snap of lightning streaking its path across the sky, John was relieved it was only the approaching storm.

Just as quickly his relief died as his ears picked up the sound of gentle tapping upon the door.

The door he and Rob were instructed to be posted at.

Wynn had told him it was only a senile patient. June had told him it was only a senile patient. Her name was Samantha, but she insisted everyone call her Samanth, because that was what her husband called her until he died in a fatal construction accident.

"J-June?" John uttered.

His mind must've been playing tricks on him. That was right. Samanth was an old lady. Hardly strong enough to chew down the steamed carrots they served for lunch. Nurse June was a capable woman, who's been in this craft for longer than he's been in college. She was fine—

John backed away in fear when the light knocking continued again. Incessant. Frantic. Much like his own tittering heart. The flashlight was clutched to his chest, a useless shield.

Then, the knocking stopped.

Maybe, it was June. Maybe the first time he'd heard the strange door noises was her requesting to be let out. John reached into his pocket and fished out the room key, something June had handed him before she entered. You boys stay out, ya here? This is all girl business. Now, you lock the door behind me, until I ask to be let out. Her tone had even implied under no circumstances were they to enter as she held a syringe in her hand and disappeared into the belly of the beast.

The key was already nested in its hole before John pushed the door inwards.

As was his nature to be overly cautious, the new orderly stepped back from the yawning darkness of the room. Remembering his flashlight, he raised it a little below level to his eyes and aimed its beam when Nurse June's body was thrown at his face.

He fell backwards, gasping as the floor met his back and coughing as June's weight nearly crushed him. He panicked as the plunger side of the needle pressed into his face while the sharp end was lodged deeply into Nurse June's eye. A trickle of blood ran down the length of her nose and onto his cheek.

It was a moment suspended in shock.

When lightning struck, the hallway illuminated within the blink it took him to recognize the figure emerging from Samanth's room.

But, there never was a Samanth in there to begin with.

As his screams filled the halls, Smith's Grove came alive.