I approached the staircase, staring upward to try and determine what was above us, but I couldn’t see anything.
“How many floors do you think this place has?”
“Four?” Mel guessed.
“Plus, a basement. You know there’s always a basement,” Dion added.
“Well, we’re starting with wherever these go.”
I placed my left boot on the first tiled stair and took a steadying mental breath. This building wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. If we had to make rounds around the whole place, it was going to take at least two hours.
There were supposedly people here that mattered to us and there wasn’t any way of knowing what they may have been dealing with while we handled our own issues. I knew better than to wish upon hope, but that was all I could do for now.
Moving up the steps, the peculiar smell grew stronger, taking on a nastier underlying stench. I wrinkled my nose, trying not to inhale too deeply.
“What do you think that is?” Dion questioned.
“I have no idea. It’s not death, though. That’s a good thing.”
“How do you know that?”
“Know what?”
“That it isn’t death?”
“…just do,” I replied dismissively.
Honestly, I couldn’t remember where I learned such a stench or why it stuck with me, but I could always recognize it.
“I think it smells like shit,” Mel stated.
I laughed despite the situation.
The landing at the top of the stairs led to another metal door with an intercom beside it. Off to the right of them was the next row of steps, thoroughly blocked off. Stepping up to the door’s glass block window, I peered through and checked out the area on the other side.
The lighting was even worse, flickering as if it was going to lose functionality any second now. I could still make out another reception desk to the right. The left had a glow coming from it, the kind a television would create.
There was a large pillar obstructing my view to know for sure what was there. I relayed what I saw to Dion and Mel, giving the doorhandle a tug just to see if it would open. It didn’t, not until I reached over and hit the button on the intercom.
There was a soft whir and then a buzz like the one from downstairs as we were granted access. I led us through and was immediately struck by how much stronger the odor was here.
“Damn. That’s terrible,” Dion choked back a cough.
“It’s shit,” Mel reaffirmed, sounding completely convinced.
I didn’t know if that were the case—but it was gross. I swallowed and blinked a few times as I moved forward. The reception area was empty. Passing the pillar on the left I was able to see I’d been right about what was creating the glow.
A flat screen was mounted on the wall, depicting an infomercial for a new community. I couldn’t hear much of what was being said due to the volume being so low, but the name Hells Pointe came across in subtitles. I didn’t pay much attention to the actual television. I was more curious about the people watching it and the women standing in the corner.
Three rows of plastic chairs—twelve altogether--were filled with five individuals. In the left upper corner were two nurses in the skimpiest uniforms I’d ever seen, both donning similar masks. They barely glanced our way, as if they couldn’t care less that we were there.
“What’s wrong with them?” Dion asked, staring at the small group of people.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Even our voices weren’t enough to snap them out of their trance.
“Maybe they’re patients,” Mel suggested.
I shrugged and kept moving.
They weren’t concerned about us and I had no invested interest in them. A little up ahead, just where the wall began for another corridor was a large square window. I moved to the left side of the hall and crept up on it, trying not to focus on the smell.
Mel and Dion mirrored my movement, dropping into a single file line. I peeked through the window, taking a second to register what I was seeing inside. There was a man hanging from the ceiling upside down. Judging by his professional attire, this was the doctor.
Someone had removed a large portion of his face, leaving only remnants of chin. The rest of him was tangled in what looked like electrical wire. He couldn’t have been dead too long. His arms were still dangling loosely above his head.
“The doctor has become a bit tangled up.”
Now what crazy had said was making a little sense. She hadn’t given us a riddle—but a hint.
“There’s a dead guy,” I informed Dion and Mel as I inched forward.
“Thought you said the smell wasn’t death?” Dion responded sardonically.
I ignored that for the simple fact he wasn’t throwing up or freaking out yet. That was progress. He could’ve been in shock, but I’d still take that over a mental breakdown.