As she ran, she felt, rather than saw, someone . . . no something . . . moving stealthily behind her, giving invisible chase.
Fear iced her blood.
She ran faster.
The air became colder until her breath was fogging with her uneven breaths, her skin prickling.
Was that a footfall?
Why couldn’t she see anyone?
Dear God, help me!
She wanted to cry out, to call for help, but she didn’t. Not when she sensed an evil presence a heartbeat away, a demon breathing his icy breath against the back of her neck.
Don’t go all paranoid. This is weird, yes, but there is nothing, not a thing following you. To prove it to herself, she glanced over her shoulder again and the corridor was as empty as before, stretching out endlessly behind her.
What kind of weird place is this?
Mercy Hospital with its bland walls and polished floors? No—that didn’t seem right, and yet the corridor had the feel, the scent of a long hospital wing in an abandoned building.
Scraape!
She broke into a sprint, the locked doors flying past, fear driving her onward.
Finally the end of the hallway loomed, a white brick wall with double doors, frosted windows reinforced with wire mesh cut into the smooth metal.
She flung herself against the wide lever and stopped short.
Over the ragged sound of her breathing she heard footsteps. With a glance over her shoulder she saw no one.
All in your mind, Cassie, just like this weird place. Paranoia settling in.
“Shut up!”
She bit her lip and threw all of her weight against the lever again. It didn’t move.
Scraape!
The sound came from the other side of the doors. Cassie’s throat turned to sand. She should leave, run back the way she’d come, seek solace in that weird room where she woke up.
She took one step backward and spied a fat button on the wall near the doors.
The release!
Before she could hit the button, the doors clanged loudly and opened inward. Quickly she stepped into a wide, windowless room with white walls and tile flooring. A mist seeped from a nearby stairwell where an exit sign pulsed red. Within the center of the room were rows of wheeled stretchers, twenty-one beds, all of which were draped and hiding what appeared to be bodies.
Is this some kind of bizarre morgue?
Heart thudding wildly, Cassie started to back up, but the swinging doors banged shut. No! She pushed on the lever, but the doors were locked tight, and though she looked desperately on the wall for a release button, there was none.
Like it or not, she was locked in.
Dear Jesus . . .
Why, oh, why had she come her
e?