Page 11 of Dark Goodbye

Once Malus is downstairs in the holding cell, I’ll be able to come back and get her, but that’s the main obstacle — getting him down the shaft. Ears pricked, I listen for the soft whispers of the nurses but thankfully hear none. As I round the corner, I glance about, and miraculously, the entire place is empty.

As fast as I’m able to, I push the gurney toward the motorized shaft and hold out my badge, waiting for what feels like an eternity for the doors to open. Once we’re both inside, I’m able to breathe once more. I drag in sweet oxygen as I hold my badge to the console and press the button for the morgue.

Since Ladria was already burnt in the crematorium, there would be no reason for the lurkers to be around. They usually do their job and leave, not wishing to be among the dead any longer than what’s necessary. Their unfounded superstitions are exactly what will allow me to work in secret.

However, since I do not desire to tempt fate, I pause as the door opens and glance around. Just as I thought. Empty. Tools sway in the light air that circulates about, as if phantom hands tease the sharp spikes and curves, playing with them while no one is around.

I pull Malus into the room and step inside, my gaze flitting about as I look at the empty cadaver tables and closed vaults. Depending on what the emergency was upstairs, this room might be needed far sooner than I would like. Walking back to the motorized shaft, I run my hand along the wall, feeling for the latch I need.

From the right, a small hiss and jolt of movement signify the passage I’m going to use. A crack, almost imperceptible, opens up at the end of the hall. With another glance around me, I walk down and dig my fingers into the space, pulling with all my might.

At first, it doesn’t give, and a spike of panic slices my insides. If this doesn’t work, then I’ll have to figure out another plan. However, after several moments of working the hidden door, it pops out with a gust of putrid air. How long has it been since I’ve been down here? After becoming a doctor, I had no real need, and yet, it didn’t feel all that long ago.

Walking back down the short hall, I grab Malus and tug him behind me. Even if someone shows up right now, they won’t see us. The hallway itself is practically hidden, appearing as just a dead end for extra storage. Luckily, no one else thought to use it that way.

I grunt as I shove the gurney in, forcing it past the tight opening. Bits of gravel and debris catch under the wheels, but I do not allow that to deter me. Reaching my hand out to graze the wall, I use my hip to help push Malus along.

Even in the dim light, I know exactly where I’m going. It’s a place I found as a child when I first became obsessed with medicine. I played here, despite the fear of my other friends. In my mind, it was just four walls and a solid door. Nothing spooky at all.

When Ladria left, it was the only place I could go where I wasn’t reminded of her. It was my safe haven. As the hall starts to narrow, I pull up short and run my fingers against the rough stone, seeking out the rusted metal of the door handle.

Though it takes some argument, I finally push it open and feel around for the light switch. A loud, electrical hum fills the older room as everything crackles to life. For a moment, I worry that it’s too taxing, that the old grid will not hold up as it did when I was younger.

But after a moment or so of deliberation, the room comes to life. The bare bulb in the middle is the first to come on, but after, the electrical panels along the side start to snap and buzz. Now that everything is working, I don’t dare shut it off again.

Bringing the gurney over, I slide it in alongside the table already here and press the button on the side that lowers a set of hooks. With another press of a button, they move their way across the ceiling until they’re in line with us.

All it takes is a few snaps to each corner of the sheet underneath him, and I’m able to lift him and place his body on this new table. The old metal creaks and groans under the unanticipated weight but holds firm. Grin etched firmly onto my face, I scour the room, tools that I’ll eventually need.

Reaching my hand into my pocket, I pull out the last syringe and hold it up to my face. His pulse is strong and even as I press my fingers to his carotid. I let out a sigh of relief. Though I know no one will hear him if he wakes up, I don’t want him to injure himself before I have a chance to come back.

I press the tip into his bicep and pump another bit of sedative into his system. That should hold him for most of the day if needed. Pulling it out, I recap it and walk over to the side of the room with all the old, unused medicine, and pull open the container used to collect needles.

Dropping it inside, I push it closed and give Malus a mock salute as I grip the gurney in my hand and walk out the door, pulling it firmly behind me. I don’t dare risk bringing it back to the main hospital center, but an extra one down here won’t be any cause for alarm.

As I near the secret door, I listen for any hint of movement or talking. The morgue is deathly silent, and I slip out and walk around, making sure no one is hidden in one of the back recesses. Once everything is clear, I go back for the gurney and pull it into the main atrium before sliding my fingers into the notch that closes the entrance back up.

It takes no time at all to push the gurney over with the others that need to be sanitized and walk back over to the motorized shaft. But each step, each moment, feels like it’s taking forever. What if someone discovers Ladria? What if they also smell her fear and long to seek out the cause?

Jamming my finger into the button for the main floor, I force my breath in and out in calm, even respirations. Looking guilty will not help anything. As the doors open, I let the remaining breath out in a whoosh as the foyer is still noticeably bare.

Without further thought, I take off into a run, racing down the hallway where I know Ladria’s waiting for me. Just one glance at the monitors reveals that she’s still there and alone, allowing my nerves a chance to settle down. Pushing the door open, I slam it shut behind me and get to work.

My fingers tremble as I reach into the drawers and pull out some bandages, ointment, a syringe filled with an anti-inflammatory concoction, and a sling. Even though Malus already disinfected her arm, by leaving it exposed, more blood snakes down her hand to drip off her fingertips.

Soft whimpers meet my ears as I wipe off the excess as quickly as I can. No doubt, I’m jostling her shoulder a bit too much, but I need to tend to this wound before I can pop it back into place. The only good thing about having Malus mark her this way is that his cuts were precise. She should heal up well with a minimal scar.

Once I wipe off the excess blood, I squirt the disinfectant onto the bandage and wrap it around her wrist, shutting off the part of my brain that cares for her so I can tend to her injuries. From there, I slowly ease her arm down, testing her range of motion.

Luckily the trauma doesn’t seem as bad as I originally assessed, and when I yank her arm forward, it clicks back into place. Ladria’s face screws up, despite the fact that she’s passed out on the tranquilizers, and I know the agony must be great. Pulling out the anti-inflammatory shot, I guide it into the joint and press down before pulling the sling around her head.

My fingers flutter over her body as the frantic need to get her out of this hellhole beats at me. All I have to do is clean up as best as I can, then I can get Ladria home. In my brain, it sounds so simple, but in practice, I know it won’t be as quick as I need.

Grabbing all the needles, I slide them into the hazard container and close the lid. Next, I gather the scalpel and other utensils on the surgical tray and shove them into our sanitizer and turn it on. The blood on the floor is the easiest part. I wipe down what I can and chuck the dirty rags into the disposal container.

Wrapping the sheets around her slim body, I ignore the soft whimper that threatens to undo my calm and gather her into my arms. She is so small, so defenseless. My body nearly swallows hers as I clutch her to my chest. A soft purr stutters from my body as I walk out the door and toward the main atrium.

I do my best to let my coat flap on either side, concealing her small form, but I know under intense scrutiny, it’s not going to hold up. The only saving grace is that she’s so knocked out that she’s barely moving. Even her breathing is soft and imperceptible from within the sheet.