III
I can feel you touching me
Waiting in that tiny room until the evening within one meter of a corpse, which fortunately remained locked into the closet, was no cakewalk. And my body was going rigid from being confined to the small room. With my relatively good plan for this less than ideal circumstance I decided to venture out of the room to check if Alana and Margot had left. I would have to wait until the building was empty, with the exception of the reduced night staff, to put my plan into action. I walked to the corner of the hallway and then peeked at the office door, only to find that it was closed, no light radiating from its threshold. I still had to be certain, so I snuck up to the door and pressed my ear to the surface. There was no sound. Carefully I turned the handle. Locked. The coast was clear.
I returned to the tech room, opened the cabinet and looked at the circuit breakers that controlled the lights and cameras. Once I had located the correct one I flipped it and found myself in darkness. I only needed to wait for the guard and it wasn't long until I heard heavy steps approaching in the corridor. I could see the glare of the flashlight near the threshold and I held my breath. The door opened, and without giving the guard time to notice me, I grabbed his jacket and threw him forcefully against the wall. The man had been stronger than I thought and wasn't disoriented by the shock, instead he drew his weapon as I was following up on the initial assault. By reflex, I grabbed the barrel of his Glock, to push it away, and suddenly the gun went off. The detonation, deafening in the silence that had preceded it, made my ears ring. I clapped my hands to them, recoiling in shock. Before me, the guard collapsed, moaning. His Maglite fell to the ground, flickered once and then steadily illuminated the scene. At my feet, a pool of blood was spreading from the still body, and gun powder burns around the damage to the chest testified to the close range of the shot.
This hadn't been part of my plan. I waited for panic - my old enemy - to arrive, but she did not come. My heartbeats slowed down and my mind stilled, the heady smell of blood filled the room and I took a deep breath before exhaling. I could not stay here. The altercation would have been heard on this floor. With a steady hand I picked up the flashlight and proceeded in accordance with my plan. Quickly I felt along the belt of the guard until I found his key ring which I pocketed before rushing to the cabinet to flip the circuit breaker of the lights, but not the cameras. I then grabbed the cart, dragging it with me towards the laundry which I had spotted earlier while distributing the meals. Looking down on my hands, I noticed blood on the hand which I'd used to push away the guard's weapon, and on the sleeve. Looking around in a frenzy, I pulled my shirt out of my pants and wiped my hands on the hem before I tucked it back in and rolled up the sleeves to hide the stains there. At the same time, I could hear rapid footfall growing louder in the corridor. I firmly grabbed the handle of the cart and moved forward as naturally as possible, when a young woman appeared before me.
"What was that noise?" She asked me, worried.
"What noise?" I replied without hesitation.
"Didn't you hear anything?" She asked, puzzled.
"No."
"But ... I could have sworn …"
I simply looked at her, as if she was talking nonsense. And the fear of appearing ridiculous dissuaded her from insisting.
"Forget it. It was probably nothing." She finally concluded before watching me carefully. "Are you new? I haven't seen you before."
"Yes. This is my first day." I improvised.
"Is that so? They never informed the night shift of the change." She sighed. "It's as if we didn't exist. All because we work while Madame sleeps." She added. And I knew she was talking about Alana.
"It's not false." I did not know what to answer to that.
"Anyway, good luck on your first night shift. You'll see, it's hard at first, but then it becomes routine." She added, becoming suddenly familiar.
"Thank you ..." I said, shaking my head, before watching her badge. "... Isabelle. "
"You're welcome ... Richard ..." She looked at me doubtfully and I feared for a moment that she understood. "It's funny, there's already a Richard in the day shift." She remarked.
"Oh yes?" I innocently replied. "It's ... funny, indeed. I have to go or I'll fall behind my schedule."
"Yes, of course. I don't want you to get fired because of me. I know, I talk too much. Good night, Richard. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen, in the semi basement." She told me, believing I would find the information useful.
And I understood that she was hitting on me. I decided to play the game because I was in a hurry.
"I will remember. Perhaps later." I concluded before continuing my journey.
"See you later." She sighed.
Then she turned around and I was finally able to breathe more freely.
Adrenaline pulsed violently in my veins, preventing me from panicking, and quickly, I found the door to the laundry and opened it as if I had every reason to be there, in case it there would be someone inside. Relieved, I found that the room to be empty. To perfect my cover, I hastily stacked towels and sheets on my cart, before emerging and heading straight for Hannibal's cell. I did not have time to pretend to go to the other residents.
...
I entered the room and closed the door behind me, before turning his way to approach the glass. He was waiting for me in the middle of his room, curiously patient. I wasn't planning to speak to him, but he didn't leave me the luxury of silence. He inhaled deeply through his nose and smiled.
"You just killed someone."
It was not a question. Thus, I did not answer and advanced on the door of his cell.
"You smell of gunpowder, hemoglobin and fear." He listed and, still without speaking, I grabbed the keychain, searching for the right key.
"I wasn't planning to." I justified myself, without being able to prevent myself.
"Of course." He nodded, sarcastically. "Now that you're guilty of murder to get me out of here, are you going to tell me why?"
"Later." I snarled, finally managing to open the lock after several tries.
He exited the cell without needing prompting, and I involuntarily took a step back, a reaction that didn't escape him, but he didn't comment on it.
"What are we doing?" He asked.
Without answering, I put the load of the cart on the floor, before unfolding a sheet to cover the metal surface. The cloth was almost reaching to the ground. Then I lifted a panel and asked him to hide. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow and gave me this look where I could read "really, Will?" as if he had spoken aloud.
"I'm making do with what I've found, so crouch down below and stay quiet." I replied, all out of patience.
He looked up at the top of the door and a sigh of exasperation escaped me.
"And I cut the cameras." I added.
"Obviously." He sneered, with a smirk.
He then consented to do what I asked him and balled himself up on the lowest shelf. I covered him, piling towels and sheets on top, before exiting.
...
I pushed the cart towards the service elevator amidst a deafening silence, punctuated by the sound of my footsteps and annoying squeaking wheels. A persistent ringing in my right ear wore on my nerves. I wanted only to get away faster, but to run would be stupid. Sweat poured in rivulets down my back, my neck, my armpits. The cart was heavier, but I still had to give the impression it weighed nothing and therefore pushed myself to keep up the illusion. The elevator finally appeared at the end of a corridor and I entered it with relief when the doors opened. The truth is that I had planned to simply walk out through the front door. It was risky, but my knowledge of the building did not extend to emergency exits. But as we descended to the ground floor, I suddenly remembered Isabelle's information. The kitchens. In the semi basement. There would certainly be windows facing the outside. This kind of installation was always necessarily ventilated. Yes, this idea was much better. When the elevator opened into the hall, I pressed the button -1 before remembering too late what I was going to find there. Or rather who.
As I feared, the doors opened directly into the large kitchens for convenience. As the hour was late, the place was devoid of the usual bustle and excitement. But, as promised, Isabelle was there, doing the dishes. At the sound of the elevator, she turned around, and from the look she gave me, I understood that she had hoped to see me. As calmly as possible, I forced my face to produce a smile that I hoped seemed sincere even though I had decided to take advantage of her crush on me.
"Finally, I finished. I had a few minutes of quiet so I told myself that I was going down here."
"That's nice." She chuckled, wiping her hands on a cloth before placing it on the work surface."... Do you want a drink?" She asked me, heading towards a big fridge.
I had to find a way to get her to leave, and quickly. But as I tried to think fast, while maintaining a relaxed attitude, the alarm suddenly started blaring from the speakers. I reflexively looked up as she jumped violently.
"What is going on?" I roared over the screeching noise.
"I don't know! I hope that it's not a patient who escaped!" She answered me, frightened. "Let's find the security guard!" She suggested, clutching my arm.
"No!" I replied, removing her hand from me. "Go ahead. I ... I will stay here in case someone will come down here to hide. You're right, this is perhaps an escape."
She seemed to weigh the pros and cons, before finally deciding to rush to the elevator. The situation would soon be out of control. Someone on the upper floors had either found the guard's body or noted Hannibal missing. We had to hurry.
The second the doors closed, I lifted the sheet and released my charge. At a glance, I spotted the line of narrow windows, high on the wall, as I had imagined, while Hannibal stretched his legs, before throwing an annoyed look at the speaker that still blared. He quickly followed my reasoning and without waiting, climbed up on the supplies to reach a window and open it. Fresh air from outside immediately rushed into the kitchen and I shivered. He was about to slip through the opening, when the elevator opened again. Isabelle rushed over to me, speaking in a broken voice, full of panic.
"Richard! The guardian ... Up there! He is…"
She froze when she saw Hannibal. Her look traveled from him to me, then to him again, and she finally understood. A second, a knife lying on the work surface. A blink of the eye later, it was in my hand, bloodied. In between, it had cut her throat in one precise movement. Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands over the wound. Crimson liquid flowed abundantly between her fingers, an inarticulate sound left her open mouth. And I finally found it again. The instinct. The impulse that guided my arm. The satisfaction and quietude. I coldly looked on as she collapsed on the white tile floor, rapidly staining it red. The sound of the alarm faded in my mind, the colors coming out more vividly. I felt every atom of my being with extreme lucidity, the roughness of the knife in my hands as an extension of my body. Hannibal appeared in my field of vision, approached me gently, then grabbed my wrist, caressing it with his thumb before take the knife. It was our first physical contact for three years. A shock wave went up my chest and shook me to the bones. He took the towel, properly wiped the blade of our fingerprints, before sliding it into the dishwasher and throwing the cloth in the bin without a glance at the young woman who was convulsing on the ground, emitting disgusting gurgles. In a split second, I thought I saw Abigail in her place. But I rejected the vision by shaking my head. A gentle hand caressed my neck, its warmth radiated down my back, my chest, my skin and filled my lungs. And calm descended on me again.
"Three murders in one day. I confess to being somewhat surprised." He whispered in my ear.
"How did you know that there were three?" I asked him, turning my face towards him.
"Richard has not claimed his uniform." He smirked.
He climbed back up on the supplies and raised himself on to the windowsill. His upper body disappeared outside along with his long legs, and then it was my turn. I stuck my head through the window and the cold stung my cheeks. Two firm hands slipped under my armpits and dragged me out on to the garden lawn that surrounded the building, before helping me up. I glanced around and spotted my car, only a few meters from us. Did premonitions exist? I wondered, running towards the vehicle. I hurriedly found my keys that I had pocketed earlier and opened the door of the driver's side, before sliding myself behind the wheel. Hannibal sat down on my right slamming his door, while I was turning the ignition and shifting into drive. Without further ado, I pushed the gas and the car skidded on gravel. I shifted to the second gear, then the third and raced to the entrance without slowing down. Nobody stood in our way, they were probably too busy with the three corpses inside. The gate opened when the bumper crashed into it without too much damage, and the tires bit into the asphalt in a shrill squeal. A minute later, we had joined the traffic on the public road, watching the silhouette of the hospital diminish in the rearview mirror.