Chapter 4
As Dr Abner ran through the torrential rain, suit jacket held over his head, he yanked open the door to his Mercedes and felt a sense of achievement wash over him that he hadn't felt in years. Not since his wedding day in fact. True he had been unfaithful many times over his long and generally boring marriage, but not once did he stop loving his wife, and he'd been immensely proud when she stood alongside him at the altar and said 'I do'. Now a new chapter was springing to life before his eyes, one that would see them happy and comfortable till the day they died. Nica Pirce was going to be his savior. She just didn't know it.
D-Wings first floor had seen a relatively uneventful evening unfold by the hour. Everybody back in their rooms, medication administered, nobody kicking up any fuss, a pretty steady handover to the nightshift really. There was the unusual appearance of Abigail Weston. Or 'Dr' Abigail Weston, as she was now known. Then there was the absence of Eric Grant. Grace reached inside her locker and lifted the bright yellow raincoat from the hanger, swinging the door of the locker closed as she pulled the protective garment clear. She swung her coat around her back and began to slide a long slender arm down the inside of the sleeve. The rain was banging against the glass, the wind howling through the gaps in the sealant. $40,000 the refurbishment had set the facility back and still they had bum windows. As she slid her other arm into the respectful sleeve, she pulled the raincoat up her back and flicked her silver hair over the collar, not lifting her hood up just yet. Suddenly she flinched in surprise as one of the younger staff nurses made her way into the changing rooms, throwing the door open clumsily, the accompanying 'BANG' echoing down the corridor. Dee had only been at Green Acre for three months, not qualified to go far, but a hard worker none-the-less. After falling pregnant while visiting her boyfriend in Chicago, it had been a lengthy and stressful procedure getting the green light to move from Canada. An 'anchor baby' their parents had joked. But they weren't worried about that. They were together now and she'd settled well, finding work almost immediately. Her first job? Green Acre's very own D-Wing, doing the rounds, mopping the floors, whatever needed doing really. A pleasant girl that Grace had immediately hit it off with, despite the fact she never had those damned headphones off. Even now as she shot through the door of the changing room, rushing to get out on time, Grace could hear Bonnie Tyler shrieking through the airwaves, 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart' reverberating around the changing room. Grace often wondered what that shit was going to do to Dee's ears as she got older.
"Honey," Grace turned to Dee and motioned with her hands, attempting to catch her attention. She failed. "DEE!" She shouted, causing Dee to jump and spin on the spot.
"Sorry," Dee apologised, lifting her headphones slightly, just enough to hear. "What's up?"
"Did you remember to empty those buckets out? I hate to ask as we're clocking off, but I didn't know Dr Weston was going to be in." She gave Dee a sympathetic look. "It's better to do it now and be five minutes late, than have Dr Abner giving you a warning tomorrow sweetie."
"Shit!" Dee spat. "I knew there was something. I'll do it on the way out."
"Probably for the best. She might not have noticed them yet. Just empty them down the drain and you should be good." Grace smiled, pulling her hood over her head and tossing her car keys in her hand. Dee closed her locker and slipped on a jacket of her own, lifting a motor cycle helmet from the seat beside her and removing the keys for her scooter.
"Can you believe I have to ride a scooter in this fucking weather?" She lifted her helmet as if making a point to Grace. "I swear I'm gonna kill Jake. Fucking asshole. He so loves that car more than me."
"Still a bit touchy about you driving his pride and joy huh?" Grace laughed as she held the changing room door open for Dee. Skipping through Dee turned to Grace.
"Yeah, not sure why. It's a damned Focus." She seemed annoyed, which always made Grace laugh. "I mean... It's not exactly a fucking Mustang!" Grace laughed as they started walking down the corridor, passing the nurses' station and gesturing 'goodnight' to the night shift. 'The Cavalry' Grace called them.
"Honey, I'll never understand men, and look how old I am." Grace turned to Dee and lifted her head, her weathered face appearing under the shadow cast by her yellow, rainproof hood. "You throw in cars then forget ever figuring them out."
"Yeah, you can say that again. Just pisses me off that I've got a fifteen mile ride in this. I'll be like a fucking drowned rat by the time I get home. And do you think he'll have run me a hot bath and made me something to eat?" They exchanged a quick glance towards one another before both laughing and saying at the same time. "Noooooooo..."
They had just about reached the end of the corridor when Dee remembered something.
"Fuck. Can you hold the elevator? I just need to sort those buckets out." She turned and sprinted back ten yards, dropping her helmet outside the door to the utility room before dashing inside. Grace shrugged her shoulders and lifted her key card, swiping it down the reader sitting beside the elevator door. Almost at once the doors slid open, which surprised Grace, but she was glad of that. The bad thing about an easy shift, is that they usually take a hell of a lot longer to pass. As she walked inside she noticed the buttons for each floor seemed to have taken on a slight change. Not a change as such, but the Ground and Basement levels were blanked out, which was a new one on Grace. Curiosity getting the better of her she reached out and pushed the button for the Ground floor. Nothing happened. She tried again, but the same. Trying the Basement gave the same response, nothing happened.
"Strange." She murmured to herself.
Suddenly the doors started to shut, causing Grace to look back at the floor buttons in shock. Something else out of the ordinary. She wasn't going down she was going up. But where to? Looking at the destination on the elevator readout presented more questions than it actually answered. Why was she going to the 'Max Security' level? And why could she hear such a commotion from above? Was that screaming? Grace didn't like this.
Dr Abigail Weston had decided to take advantage of the opportunity to wander around undisturbed. Sliding away from the nurses' station she had taken a walk round to her office and quietly let herself in. Even though she was technically covering for Eric Grant, she figured she could catch up on some of the work she'd fallen behind on this afternoon. After all, why should her schedule be messed up because of Eric Grant and Roland Abner? They could bitch about each other and go backwards and forwards as much as they wanted to, but it was her that was put out by all this shit. She closed her office door behind her and locked it, quietly striding across her tiled floor, heels clicking slightly as they made contact with the ceramic tiles. Sitting behind her desk, she flicked a switch and her computer screen flickered into life. She wanted to take a look at Nica Pirce's notes. Dr Abner had been showing a little more interest in her recently and Abigail Weston was not going to have her patient snatched from under her nose and paraded as a model example of Green Acre's sensational, revolutionary, new rehabilitation program. Not when she didn't feel Nica Pirce was safe. But also especially not after 'the incident' six months ago. She looked at her hand and although the puncture wound had long healed, a tiny scar remained. The very presence of it made Abigail recoil in pain as the memory burst through her brain like a juggernaught.
"It's gone straight through. Straight fucking through!" Warren had screamed, indicating that Dr Weston's hand was now more or less stapled to Nica's numb, lifeless thigh.
She could hear his voice now. The other orderly, only a temp, had been so traumatised by the event he never returned to Green Acre. She could also feel every tweak, every sharp jolt of agony as they tried to remove the hypodermic needle from her hand. But more than anything she remembered looking into Nica's eyes and seeing nothing. No compassion, no feeling, no life, she just stared deadly at Dr Weston, her curls hanging in front of her face, breathing heavily, her lips drooling. There was nobody in there and that was what had scared Dr Weston so much.
Remembering why she was sat in her office in the dark, the light of the computer monitor the only illumination available, she moved her mouse and entered the 'Patients' folder on the desktop. Strangely enough there was a patient missing. Nica Pirce. This didn't surprise her one bit though, she'd been suspecting something like this might happen, but that didn't mean she approved. Fair enough Dr Abner had shown a lot of interest in Nica's rehab, her case, even going as far as recommending her for transfer down here to D-Wing, claiming she was no longer a danger to anybody, including herself. But it was Abigail that had done all the work, put the hours into the therapy, worked her out a course of medication, monitored her behaviour, and she wasn't going to let Dr Abner snatch that away from her. She didn't particularly care for Nica, not since that day. But there was a reason Dr Abner wanted her on his list and it was bound to benefit him in some way. She pulled up the browser for the facilities intra-web and had a snoop around, coming across the login page for the 'Doctor/Patient' database held on the internal server. She used this daily as a way of updating her records whilst also catching up on previous meetings with colleagues etc. Feeling a little daring she clicked on the 'Doctor ID:_' field and entered the name 'Dr R Abner' before having second thoughts. Carefully thinking about any possible footprint she decided it was pretty safe and decided to have a stab at the password. But what could she use? Obviously he wouldn't just use his wife's name. But maybe, just maybe, she had an idea. Clicking on the 'Password:_' field she had a guess, entering the word 'YramRenba', or to put it another way, Mary Abner. Sure enough the next page fired into life. Browser histories, notes on patients, drugs, treatment schedules, meetings, everything Dr Abner had been working with recently. Following her instinct, Abigail clicked on the patient log and began searching, finding what she was looking for within seconds, Nica Pirce. So he had taken her off Abigail's patient list, but why? That was the question. Everything about the notes seemed in order, the treatment schedule hadn't altered, the notes remained attached to her file and there was a list of medication she had been prescribed since her admittance to the facility. But on closer inspection that was where something was off. There was a drug Abigail had never heard of, least of all recommended in Nica Pirce's ongoing treatment, 'Ethlandrone'.
"What the hell?" Abigail whispered to herself.
She'd been on this new drug for the last 4 months, way before being transferred from the Max Security unit, but it was the first Abigail had known about it. Clicking back and noting the name of this mysterious drug, Abigail pulled up the browser and turned straight to Google, doing a quick search for 'Ethlandrone'. The search engine returned immediately with hundreds of web pages, articles, images for the drug, but one caught Abigail's eye, sticking out amongst the text littered display of the monitor. She clicked on the link and was taken to the home page for a pharmaceutical company based in San Diego, apparently the creators of this unknown drug, Etho-Lab Pharmaceuticals. Reading the information on the home page, the drug promised to be a breakthrough in psychology, enabling doctors to see improvements within patients facing mental health issues in a quarter of the time it currently took. By the looks of the ingredient breakdown and the write up by the company, the drug blocked the release of endorphins, not just a little either, but to an almost undetectable level. Clicking away and taking in a tour of the page, reading as much as she could she came to a page featuring a brief history of the company and her blood ran cold. There on screen, listed as a company director was the name and image of none other than 'Dr. Roland Abner'.
"What are you up to you old prick?" She mused as she took in the information.
Apparently the new drug was still in the trial periods but was expected to be crowned a success soon with the first patient benefiting greatly from the current course of treatment. Who did they mean? Were they talking about Nica Pirce? She fit the bill perfectly. She came in confused, ranting about a killer doll, displaying psychotic, violent tendencies, no interest in socialising or acknowledging the problems were in her head. Then suddenly, as if overnight, the problems stopped, she became Roland's pet patient, his golden girl. His refusal to let her linger up in Maximum Security, that she be brought down to the first floor immediately as she was no longer a threat to anybody, evaluations getting less frequent every time. Everything started to make sense. Panicking, Abigail headed back to Dr Abner's patient log and pulled up the notes, wasting no time in finding Nica's. The text appeared on screen and confirmed Abigail's suspicions, making her sick to the pit of her stomach.
"Oh you're fucking kidding me!" She sighed as she closed her eyes in disbelief and fell backwards into the chair.
Dr Abner had decided that Nica would benefit from assisted living, albeit with supervision, at a complex in San Diego where she would be allowed days out, her own living space, financial support and all in the name of 'Ethlandrone'. He basically had to make sure she kept her nose clean and her ass wiped, and he stood to make a fortune out of marketing his new drug. No doubt he'd imagined the seminars, the guest speaking rolls, the after dinner speeches, the money... 'This' was indeed the reason he had been so determined to get her down here in the first place and why he was so concerned with making her comfort a priority. There was no doubt in Abigail's mind. Why else would he focus on her when the representative from the Board of Governors' visited? This made Abigail's skin crawl knowing that the whole time she'd been working with Nica, this was what had been planned behind her back. There was nothing new or revolutionary about doping somebody up and making sure they stayed put. It was just good old fashioned brainwashing. Slamming her hands on the desk she prevented a scream of rage from erupting from her lips. She was furious that Dr Abner was prepared to place a dangerous, possibly psychotic, patient out in the middle of a thriving community and sit back with his fingers crossed while his bank balance sky rocketed. She didn't know who'd seen these notes, but she was going to do something before it was too late.
Trouble was, who had seen these notes and how far away were they from reaching fruition?
She stood to leave the office when all of a sudden the first floor was plunged into darkness and screaming could be heard. As the red emergency lights began to flash, Dr Abigail Weston's world was plunged into chaos.
Nica had no sooner swallowed her medication and seen Grace leave, when she spun, turning her back on the door to her room, sticking two fingers down her throat. She tried to be quiet, but retching wasn't such an easy thing to do. Luckily she had gotten a little used to it this last couple of months and quickly brought up the oval, blue pills that Grace had brought her before turning in for the night. She was convinced these were the reason she had been floating on clouds up in Maximum Security, since she'd started bringing them back up she'd been fine. The rest of her medication was mostly stock, over the counter, placebos anyway. Asprin to help thin the blood a touch, harmless things like that really. She'd looked at the two little pills in a pool of spit, resting in the palm of her hand and quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody had seen. Luckily she hadn't been getting these things as often recently, it was only every other night now, so they obviously thought they were doing the trick. But the way Nica saw it, there was nothing wrong with her anyway, Alice's letters proved that. So she just kept hiding them in her pillow slip before flushing them down the disabled toilet the morning after, letting everybody think these little blue pills were working a miracle. She didn't even know what they were, that hadn't been explained properly, she only knew that they took everything out of her. Her enthusiasm, her energy, her creativeness. As she'd slipped the pills inside her pillow, she'd noticed the letters from Alice, just visible, the dark brown envelope against the white bed sheets. Pulling them out she looked at them, turning them in her hands, not wanting to read them in case she felt that same terrifying, hair raising, cold feeling creep up her arms once more. Suddenly something clicked in her head, a spark, igniting memories of her time at Green Acre. The first time she'd encountered these mysterious blue pills. Dr Abner, he said something, what was it? Something about her recovery. A flash lit up her subconscious as Dr Abner's face appeared in front of her eyes, his office in the background as she signed a disclaimer for the medication she was to 'try'.
"You know these things will make it a lot easier for you in here don't you Nica?" He smiled as she took her first lot and signed the papers. "And we don't want 'anything' getting in the way of your recovery!" She didn't care what they were, all she knew is that they looked like a ticket out of this hell hole.
Suddenly she was back in her room. Her mind racing. What did that mean? 'Anything getting in the way of her recovery'? Then another memory came racing to her, just the other day as she was sat writing at her desk. Dr Abner appeared with his colleague, what was his name now? Something French, Gerard? Gerald? That was it! Gerald... No idea of the surname. But that wasn't important. The look Dr Abner gave her when she explained she was writing was though. He seemed alarmed. Her mind shot back to that morning.
"Oh really? What are you writing? I didn't know you were in contact with anybody." He'd seemed flustered as he asked. Then the way he wanted to get out of there at the first sign of even a hint of sarcasm. Something wasn't right.
Nica sat back and everything seemed to come together for her. It was Dr Abner! He'd been the one to hold back her mail. He didn't want anything disrupting her treatment, her drugs, he wanted her to play nice and not kick up a fuss. The only question was why? What did he have to gain? Why was he giving her this treatment? Coming across as her friend, her mentor, then stooping low enough to hold back any contact with the outside world and dope her up with trial drugs. As she sat, her mind wandering, miles away, she was brought back down to earth as the lights suddenly flickered before plunging her into darkness, her door sharply slamming shut and automatically locking. Just the intermittent flash of the red emergency light blinking through the small window in the upper reaches of her door.
Something was wrong. And Nica knew it.
Lynn, James and Paul had been going over the notes from the afternoon shift when it happened. Grace and Dee had literally just walked past on their way out and Dr Weston was nowhere to be seen. Mouthing her goodbyes to Grace on the way out Lynn turned to her two colleagues, clipboard in hands.
"So, where's Dr Weston?" She asked, half serious, half joking. Her hair tied back in a long black ponytail, her youngish looks betraying the years on the clock, all fifty-five of them.
"You really think she's gonna pull her weight?" James asked as he looked up from the medication charts, pulling another Snickers bar from the pocket of his scrubs. Lynn always figured he'd balloon in weight if he carried on eating the way he did. And she'd been right. The last two years hadn't been kind to James Rushmore. His acne had blossomed, pretty bad for a man approaching his mid-thirties and still living at home. "All meds are done, nothing special on here, should be an easy night anyway. Bit of luck she can sit in her office all night and keep to herself."
"Yeah," Lynn answered. "Chance would be nice. I don't think we'll have it that easy though."
"Where's Eric anyway?" Paul chipped in. He had the honour of being the youngest person to work at Green Acre. A generic nineteen year old, thought he knew it all. The jet black, gelled comb over reminding Lynn of an extra from the movie Grease. "Is it true about a suspension?"
"I dunno." Lynn sighed as she leaned back, perching herself on the edge of the nurses' station. "You hear one thing from this person, another from that person..."
"They don't tell us fuck all!" Paul spat.
"Nothing to do with us I guess." James finished his Snickers bar and threw the wrapper in the trash. Grabbing his coffee he took a long drink. "They just expect us to sweep the floors and stop the basket cases from killing each other."
"That's enough!" Lynn turned and shot him a look of disgust. "You treat these people with respect! You hear me?"
"Yeah, I guess." James muttered.
"I'm sorry?" Lynn took a step towards the man mountain, knowing full well that if he put his full weight behind any kind of attack then she could write off working again, ever.
"Okay..." James seemed embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
"Right," Lynn started to walk off towards the elevators, turning to address them both. "Let's not argue guys. We have to work together, so let's just treat them with respect yeah?"
They both nodded as Lynn turned and carried on walking towards the elevator. Strangely enough there was a motorcycle helmet. Outside the utility room, on the floor. Confused, Lynn took a few steps towards the door, hoping to investigate the strange object. Her attention diverted, she was caught completely off guard as the elevator doors slid open, the accompanying 'ping' going unnoticed. She glanced up just in time to see the mass of orange jump suits, arms, legs and tattoos lurching forward in unison, anger spread across the faces of the crowd as they moved as one, their roars of anger and accompanying threats turning to an inaudible, muffled, wave of venom. James and Paul noticed what was happening way before Lynn did, screaming at her to get behind the nurses' station and to safety. She couldn't hear anything though. Her mind was awash with chaos and confusion as her body went numb and her limbs stiffened up. James was screaming, his lungs hoarse, getting rougher with every breath as she stood motionless, the crowd surging forward. But suddenly, almost immediately, it was too late. By the time she recognised the fact that she wasn't moving they were on her, clipboard dropping to the floor, the pen falling free and rattling. James and Paul watched on in horror as the mass of murderers and rapists enveloped Lynn, tackling her, barging her off her feet, her skull cracking on impact as she slammed into the floor, ribs splintering as foot after foot came down, trampling her underfoot, demolishing her body with every step, climbing over her to get to the nurses' station. Some stopped to spit on her, while others were more vicious, a huge kick here and there, no mercy as she recoiled, coughing up blood. Suddenly James brought his hand down on the panic button causing the glass screen to shoot up in front of the nurses' station, the lights cutting out and every door hissing and slamming shut as the locks whizzed into life and secured everybody in their rooms. The red flash of the emergency lighting gave the escaped inmates an even more intimidating look as they were bathed in the blood red glow. Screaming and shouting, punching, kicking, looking for anything to try and break the security glass protecting James and Paul from certain death. A fire extinguisher smashed against the glass screen, followed by the motorcycle helmet from down the hall, the inmates yelling for James and Paul to release them, show them the way out.
"We can't do that!" James screamed through the glass.
"CAN'T? OR WON'T?" Shouted one of the escapees, madness glistening from behind his eyes.
"We can't! We don't know how!" James yelled back.
"LET US IN!" Another face bellowed.
"No way! You'll fucking kill us!" Paul whimpered, his voice breaking.
"WE'LL GET IN EITHER WAY MAN!" The first voice shouted again.
A few members of the crowd dispersed, desperately looking for another way out, the control for the locks to the stairways and the fuse box for the elevator override. Some came back with things to throw at the glass trying in vain to break into the nurses' station and get their hands on the two men inside. James and Paul were taken completely by surprise as the crowd parted and a handful of the mob appeared carrying Lynn's body. Lifeless, broken, blood, dripping from the end of each outstretched arm, her head flopping, a bloody pulp. As the crowd closed up behind them, the men hoisted Lynn's body up in one swift manoeuvre, instantly it dawned on James and Paul what they were about to do.
"Holy fuck no!" Paul gasped as the men took a step backwards.
"Please god!" James exhaled as the handful of men then took an almighty step forward, heaving Lynn's already shattered body at the glass. The implosion of sharp, jagged glass was enough to make James and Paul shield their eyes and sink to their knees as Lynn's torso came crashing through, landing on the floor behind the desk of the nurse's station. James took a quick look at the situation and felt a fear he had never experienced before. Looking at the limp, breathless body of his former colleague, skin torn off by the glass, bones broken, jutting out from various areas, blood running free from her cracked skull and forming a pool around her head, he vomited. Paul saw the devastation too and tears formed in his eyes as he looked up at the inmates pouring in through the glass, psychotic, menacing looks in their eyes as they approached, crowding the two men. He clamped his hands together as if uttering a final prayer on his death bed and began to plead for their lives. As expected his attempts at bargaining were futile, punches thrown, boots landing on whichever body parts were exposed. The fury, built up over years of incarceration finally finding a vent through which it could be unleashed.
It only took two minutes. Both men laid, twitching, struggling to breathe. Paul's lungs, which had collapsed under such an intense beating were, losing the fight to keep him alive, while James slowly drown on his own blood, unable to move, every limb flaring in agonising pain. The crowd soon moved on, as one of the smarter inmates searched the security terminal, unlocking the elevators and stairwells. Onwards to freedom.
When the storm of violence and expletives had finally died down, Dee slowly and as quietly as possible, opened the door of the utility room. Only slightly at first. Making sure the crowd had definitely vanished. As she stood, trembling, she took a small step out into the corridor and was greeted by a sight which made her vomit as she involuntarily fell to her knees, raising her hands to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, matting her red hair into thick strands. The floor of D-Wing was stained with the blood of the night staff, the glass security screen, meant purely for emergencies had failed in its task of keeping the workers safe. As she approached the nurses' station she cried out loud, whimpering and shaking as the battered bodies of Lynn, James and Paul came into view. She reached over the desk and grabbed the phone. There was no outside line, it was as if the lines had been disconnected. Worse than that, there was only this floor and Maximum Security that worked the night shift. Panicking and acting on adrenaline, Dee did all she could think of and turned, sprinting towards the elevator at the end of the corridor, concerned only for her safety. She had just reached it, tears blurring her vision, senses working overtime, when the doors slid open, that 'ping' again sounding out. There stood a man. Orange jumpsuit, shoulder length, shaggy black hair. A drawn and tired expression across his face as he acknowledged Dee. In his hands, bizarrely enough, sat a doll. Dee could tell, even through the tears, it was the most evil looking doll she'd ever seen. All stitches and ginger hair, the overalls torn and shredded in places. Blues, reds and greens, weathered from years of misuse. Even stranger, in the hands of the doll, was a knife. Before Dee could stop she was upon them, fear and terror telling her this was the end. Then as if in slow motion, the doll moved, turning it's head and smiling menacingly straight at her, it's hand plunging forward, the knife sinking into Dee's chest and sitting there as she .an abrupt stop. The pain was excruciating, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Then as the doll looked up, into her face, their eyes met. Smiling even wider the doll pulled its other hand free from round the back of the escapee carrying it and grabbed the knife with both hands, yanking sharply, violently downwards and gutting Dee, opening her up from the middle of her chest to the bottom of her stomach, before laughing maniacally. Dee went cold as she collapsed backwards hitting the floor with all her weight, her world starting to fade in a mixture of terror, confusion and agony.
Dr Abigail Weston had stood for what seemed an age, watching shadow after shadow fly past the window of her office door. Luckily they didn't pay much attention as there was no light on inside, but a couple had tried the door handle as she then sat weeping, crouched under her desk. She'd heard the screams, heard the cries of pain and anguish coming from the hall and she'd known what was happening the second the emergency measures had been activated. The lights lost power, patients were locked automatically in their rooms, either to keep them safe or keep them in. She also knew that the stairs would be locked off until somebody either reset the alarm from the terminal inside the secure confines of the nurses' station, or security showed up. The police were probably on their way too. A ten mile gap between the local police department and Green Acre wasn't ideal, but they'd done well during the drills Dr Weston had witnessed. Her mind hurriedly returned to the present and she began to wonder why it had all quietened down so quickly. No more screaming, no more roars of anarchy. Just silence. Apart from a couple of minutes ago when she'd heard somebody crying, cowering almost. Now there was just an eerie, dramatic, silence in which Abigail felt she would hear a pin drop from the other side of the ward. Climbing to her feet, her once carefully manipulated blonde hair had worked free from the slides used to keep it in place. She carefully took a step forward, before bending and removing her heels from her feet. Leaving them behind her desk she skipped towards her door, not a sound to be heard from the hall. Putting one hand on the door handle she used her free hand to unlock the door, very slowly. As she carefully pulled the door open she took one last look around her office, checking for some innocent peripheral that could be used as a makeshift weapon. There was nothing. Turning back to the now gaping doorway, she jumped and gave a shriek as she was greeted by the tall, unkempt figure of inmate 18910407... Jonathan Locke. His eyes stared straight through her, sunken, black and unfocused. His jumpsuit had splatters of blood down the front and his hands hung free by his side, his pale skin lending him a disturbing, unfriendly look. She was just about to ask him if he was alright, attempt to keep him calm, this was a man that had murdered a bus full of commuters in cold blood after all. No warning, no ransom, just a mass execution. The words were on the tip of her tongue when he gasped, quite audibly, a long lingering exhalation. Before falling forward, landing face first with a splat at the bare feet of Dr Weston. She looked at him, not moving, completely still and noticed the handle of the knife protruding from his spine, a ring of blood around the base. Then she noticed something else.
Something impossible...
Something she couldn't believe...
She held her hands to her mouth, about to scream, when the abomination, spoke...
"Where the fuck is Nica Pirce?"
Then she screamed...
Sat back in her room, Nica was shaken out of her thoughts by a solitary scream that bounced around the corridors of D-Wing, filtering through every gap, every doorway and every window.
He was here...