Holding up a finger to his visor, Mo urged silence. Watley nodded in agreement. The shuffling noise intensified; whatever was causing it had moved closer to the operating room door. The gloom had become an almost tangible substance, like it could be scooped up with a spoon, so much so, that Mo was tempted to switch on the flashlight mounted to his rifle, but to do so would reveal their presence. In addition, what if the vines could detect the change in light? Mo had witnessed sentience in other vegetation before. In fact, when they first entered the hospital stairwell, he had felt as though the vine knew he was near, waiting for him to let his guard down.
Mo spread his feet to steady himself against kickback should he need to discharge his weapon. He targeted the doorway, staring down the rifle’s sight. He glanced at Watley, who confirmed that he was ready with a quick nod.
Absolute silence ensued, as if the gloom had consumed all sound. This onset of noiselessness became disorienting and produced a palpable dread that hovered over Mo, almost erroneously spurring him to action. Then, just before he acted on impulse, fingers curled around the edge of the doorway. It was difficult to discern in the murkiness, but they did not appear to be wholly human; these fingers were much longer than they should be. The adjoining arm came into view, followed by the shoulder. When the thing’s head appeared, Mo’s trigger finger tensed, nearly firing prematurely.
The thing stepped closer. Its face was wrapped in thin tendrils that looked similar in substance to the vine, with smaller offshoots protruding from the nostrils and mouth. The eyes though, were uncovered and stared toward Mo and Watley. Its head panned left, then right. It sniffed.
It’s blind.
This was to their advantage. If they remained silent, maybe it would pass the operating room and move farther down the hall, allowing them to escape. Instead however, it took another step toward them and for the first time, Mo noticed a thicker, woody stem that moved with it. He concluded that it had to be attached to the thing’s back…directing its movement. From there, the stem rose out of view, giving the impression that it originated from somewhere higher in the stairwell. Mo imagined some sinister organism up there; the puppet master working the strings of its marionette.
Mo’s forehead beaded with sweat as the humanoid sampled the air, sniffing right and left. It must have detected them and followed them here. At first Mo thought it was the slumped-over man with the shotgun they had passed, but this was a different one. Unarmed, yet more dangerous. The whole damn building might be crawling with them.
The vine grew taut and the thing retreated toward the stairwell. It moved backwards not awkwardly, like a person might, but with even, confident strides. Finally, it turned at the doorway, and just as Mo was about to release a pent-up sigh, the thing halted. Slowly, it turned its head back toward the two men. Unable to comprehend what it may have sensed, Mo instinctively spun toward Watley, who was lying on the ground, one leg dangling over an overturned surgery tray. He had tripped over it and spilled the metal instruments onto the tile floor. Although Mo’s hearing had been compromised, the thing had heard the commotion.
Christ!
Refocused on the humanoid, Mo stepped backward toward Watley. “Get up!” He understood that he had spoken those words yet could not hear them.
“Just get the fuck up!”
The humanoid suddenly exhibited a speed that Mo hadn’t expected and was upon them in three steps. Mo pulled the trigger and hit it square in the face and it stumbled backward. His hearing returned. Its fingers clumsily examining the hole in its head, the humanoid staggered, then regained its footing. Mo fired again, and it finally fell limp, dangling from the support vine. Blackness oozed from the wound as the vine detached itself and withdrew into the stairwell.
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Watley got to his feet. He gripped his limb. “My leg…”
Mo turned and saw that the leg of his partner’s suit appeared to be wet. The wound must’ve opened even more. He moved behind Watley and grabbed the back of his suit and lifted. “Get up!” With great effort, Watley rose. They moved toward the door when the whole room began trembling. The metal instruments that had spilled onto the floor began rattling against the tile and debris fell from overhead, where fragments of the ceiling gave way.
Then in the stairwell a dark mass filled the murky space. It had come from above and tumbled down the steps, settling on the descending flight. At the least, their way was blocked. Either something had fallen down the stairwell or something had deliberately positioned itself there. Turning back, Mo, for the first time, noticed another door in the room. Fissures spawned in the ceiling and they hurried through the raining particles. Mo burst into the next room, rifle first. Here it was even darker, and the flashlight was necessary. The beam revealed blue tiled walls with three sinks. Scrubs and other surgical equipment were scattered on metal racks and nearby carts.
Beyond this room were about ten lockers with a bench. Winding through the darkness, Mo eventually led them to a long hallway, where sunlight allowed him to switch the light off. To the right was the stairwell with the mass. To the left, at the end of the hall, there was an unlit EXIT sign. “Let’s go,” Mo commanded. Watley winced and limped forward.
The trembling ceased as they left the hallway and entered a different stairwell, this one not as infested by vine growth. The vegetation was present, but only straggling, thin tendrils, as if this is where it ended. Mo looked below and saw a humanoid lying face-down on the lower landing. It may have been a trick of the light, but he thought it had moved. Rather than pass by it, he choose to ascend.
The next floor opened to an overhead sign that read: OBSTETRICS. At the nurse’s station, they headed to the right. Light poked through cracks in a window at the far end of the hallway, revealing a cluster of humanoids, though not as many as the ground floor. In addition, none had any vines attached but Mo half-expected one to suddenly appear and reanimate them. None did, however, and the monstrous things remained still.
Proceeding down the hall, Mo glanced into each room they passed. In a few were what appeared to be incubators. A chill swept through him as his mind conjured images of half human, half plant hybrids lying in each of the units, waiting to mature.
The last few rooms on either side of the corridor were empty. There was a stairwell to the right and when he heard shuffling, Mo darted into the room on the left and locked the door behind him. He directed Watley to sit inside the shower.
“Why am I in here? I just want to lay down, man. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re going to open that suit up and see what the hell’s going on with that leg. If it’s leaking all over the place, it’ll go down the drain and not onto the floor. We could be in here longer than we expected.”
Watley nodded. “What the fuck was that thing downstairs? I’ve seen strange stuff, but not like that.”
Mo, still busy looking for a way out of the window, shook his head. “I don’t know. But we knew to expect some biological freakshow.” Trying a door opposite of the bathroom, Mo found it opened to another room, complete with a bed and clothes closet. He cleared the room and returned. “It’s a suite. You’ll stay in here, I’m in this room…that’s until I find a way out of here without going down to the ground floor.” He closed the door.
Mo examined himself in the clothes closet mirror, until he was satisfied that no foreign substance had adhered to his suit. His reflection vibrated as trembling continued through the hospital. These, however, were subtle compared to the earlier ones. He imagined those horrific vines traversing every nook in the building, sensing for its newfound prey.