Campfire

by Shawn Sarles

  In the rain-washed week since, they hadn’t met up again. They’d passed each other in the hallways numerous times, though, this secret smoldering between them. It all felt inevitable to Nicholas, so he waited patiently—and hoped—for a second chance.

  The elevator chimed brightly, the only thing besides Nicholas that the dreary weather hadn’t managed to depress. The doors slid open and Nicholas pushed the hospital bed in.

  “What floor?” He recognized that voice.

  “Fourth, please.”

  Sadie punched the button for the top floor and the doors closed.

  In the cramped car, the subtlest hint of rose tickled Nicholas’s upper lip. He took a deep breath and remembered that smell—Sadie’s smell. Her shampoo, since the nurses weren’t allowed to wear perfumes or lotions. He opened his mouth to say something, but the elevator chimed again, the doors opened, and Sadie slid out. Nicholas could only stare as she went, disappointment churning in his gut.

  Then, a flip of her chin-length hair. A look back over one shoulder. A smile and a wink. Acknowledgment. Finally. Nicholas didn’t even stop to wonder what had changed. The disappointment rushed out of his system with one flush. His toes wiggled forward. It was all he could do to keep from racing after her right that moment.

  “That’s a look if I’ve ever seen one.”

  Nicholas glanced down and saw that his patient had woken up and was staring down the hallway after Sadie with a wolfish glimmer in his eye.

  “I see you’re feeling better today, Mr. Sadusky,” Nicholas said, patting the elderly man on the shoulder.

  “I feel good every day.”

  Nicholas ignored the lie, knowing that Mr. Sadusky couldn’t remember his bad days, those when he’d sit in bed, his face a crumpled-up sheet of blank paper, his mind a thousand miles away.

  “Tell me, are you seeing that young lady?”

  Mr. Sadusky twisted around in his hospital bed, uncomfortable and slow. He peered up at Nicholas, honking nose and elephant ears, his features grown too large for his face.

  “I—” Nicholas paused, considering. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, don’t dawdle. A girl like that—she won’t be around for long.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Trust me, I’m working on it.”

  The elevator shuddered to a halt and spit them out on the fourth floor. Nicholas wheeled the hospital bed down the hallway while Mr. Sadusky talked on. Nicholas ignored the old man—most of what he said made no sense, anyway—and watched the downpour outside.

  It was nearly six o’clock, almost time for supper, though no one could tell by looking out at the gray haze. A bolt of lightning crackled and illuminated the maelstrom. Nicholas could just make out the valley’s walls rising up on both sides of the hospital. The mountains sheltered them from the worst of the gale, but they also cut them off from the rest of the world. On a clear day, it was a good hour’s drive to the nearest town, but with the past week’s deluge, most of the mountain roads had washed away. And if it weren’t for their generator, they’d have lost power days ago.

  “We’re here,” Nicholas pushed the old man into his room and quickly locked the bed into place. “They’ll be by with dinner soon.” And with that, Nicholas made his hasty escape, blocking out the octogenarian’s parting advice.

  “Nicholas,” a voice shot out at him from down the hall. He stopped on the spot and backtracked.

  “Yes?” He poked his head into one of the open offices.

  “Come in. I have a few things for you.”

  Nicholas nodded and walked inside, taking a seat across from a gentleman in his mid-forties. The nameplate on his desk read Dr. Hagen—Director. He looked like the kind of doctor Nicholas would see on some afternoon talk show. He had that telegenic appearance—bright blue eyes, large shining teeth, his head covered by a forest of lush salt-and-pepper hair. Nicholas often wondered what the doctor had done to deserve this backwoods exile.

  “Want some?”

  Dr. Hagen had just finished pouring a finger of scotch in a tumbler on his desk. Nicholas waved him off. He liked to drink, but only the cheap stuff, what went down easy. Dr. Hagen shrugged and took down the scotch in one gulp before pouring himself another.

  “This damn rain,” he lamented as he took a sip. “It’s going to be the death of us all. We’ve got flooding in the staff halls. And now it looks like we’ll need a new roof for this whole place.”

  The doctor sighed, already well on his way to drunk. Nicholas didn’t know what to say.

  “At least we got most everyone out this morning.”

  “Hmm?” Dr. Hagen hadn’t been paying attention. “Oh—right, right.”

  The morning had been a nightmare of work, Nicholas moving patients up and down, loading them into vans and ambulances to be ferried down the mountain. His lower back still smarted. And they had two more patients to move the next morning, with just a skeleton crew.

  “Sir, was there something you needed from me?”

  “Sorry, I almost forgot.” Dr. Hagen set his glass down. “I need you to check on the generator. Make sure we’ve got enough gas.”

  “That it?”

  The doctor nodded to himself, his mouth back in his scotch. Nicholas turned to leave, but Dr. Hagen called him back.

  “Oh, and can you check on Rick?” Rick was the other patient they still had to move in the morning. His room was just at the other end of the hallway. “Make sure he’s ready for tomorrow. And that he’s taken his meds.”

  “Will do.”

  Nicholas pulled the door shut behind him as the doctor finished his scotch and started to pour himself another. Better to let him pickle in private.

  Boasting the longest stay at the hospital—patient or staff—Rick Ransom had been at the facility for nearly two decades. According to Rick’s charts, he suffered from delusional episodes, though in Nicholas’s six months as an orderly, he’d never witnessed one. Rick had to be the most mild-mannered patient they had, reserved and void of any emotion. Most days he spent alone in his room, quietly working on his paintings. Harmless. Rumor around the nurses’ station had it that Rick’s father was some mining tycoon who funded the entire hospital, all so that they’d keep his eldest son tucked away, unable to embarrass the family name.

  Nicholas arrived at Rick’s door and knocked softly. A few moments later, Rick’s quiet voice invited him in.

  “Everything okay?” Nicholas pushed the door open slowly. His eyes swept around the room. Even though it was the largest in the facility, it didn’t look it, the way Rick had stacked and laid canvases against every wall and on every flat surface. He had to have fifty of them spread throughout the room.

  “Looks like you’re hard at work.” Nicholas had spotted Rick’s latest canvas, propped up on an easel in the middle of the room. The man turned, his round face expressionless and pale, his paintbrush aloft in one hand. He was a big man, with hulking shoulders.

  “Just finished,” he said, even quieter than before. “What do you think?”

  “It’s one of your best,” Nicholas replied. How many times had Rick asked him this same question? And how many times had he responded with the same lie?

  It wasn’t that his paintings were bad. They were actually quite good. But Rick only ever painted the one thing, over and over and over again.

  Nicholas’s eyes moved away from the canvas and fell on Rick’s side table. He spotted the man’s medication.

  “Did you forget to take your pills today?”

  Rick squirmed atop his painter’s stool. His eyes popped. Then they turned back to study his latest canvas, the firm lines and bold colors, a pictograph of a raven mid-flight.

  Nicholas crossed the room and picked up the small plastic cup. He counted the pills and then shook them. They rattled around, like an owner calling a dog to dinner. Reluctantly, Rick pulled his eyes from his painting. He offered the orderly his open palm and Nicholas spilled the medication into it. Rick threw them back and swallowed down a nearby glass
of water.

  “All good.” Nicholas brushed his hands together and threw the empty cup away. “We’re moving you and Mr. Sadusky in the morning, so make sure you’re packed.”

  Rick didn’t reply, and Nicholas felt uncomfortable in the silence. His eyes moved away from the man’s blank face and fell on a stack of canvases instead. His fingers hovered over the corner of a downturned one. Rick looked at him hesitantly.

  Then there was another knock at the door. It opened and Nurse Ryann appeared, matronly in her too-big nurse’s uniform and white orthopedic tennis shoes. She had a tray of food in her arms.

  “Have a good night, Rick,” Nicholas said, pulling his hand back as he breezed out of the room. “And don’t forget about tomorrow morning.”

  The lobby was empty when he passed through it, the front desk unattended. He pulled a rain slicker from the coat rack and slid its cold, rubbery flesh over his shoulders. He peered through the front doors. Lightning flashed, and he could see just how quickly the rain fell, pelting the earth. He saw the barn about two hundred yards away. He hung his head and pushed out into the storm.

  Water pelted him from all sides, even, as impossible as it seemed, from below. It only took a millisecond for him to get soaked through. His feet slid underneath him, his rain boots filling with water. The mud threatened to suck him under in patches, like quicksand, unrelenting once it got a hold. He battled through the soupiness, though, and managed to make it across the yard.

  They’d modernized the barn in recent years, converting the horse stalls to storage and maintenance lockers, insulating and weatherproofing the whole thing. Nicholas could hear the generator back in one of the closets, droning a dull, steady chug as it pumped power out to the entire facility. Their main power lines had gone down three days ago, and the generator had been working around the clock ever since. Nicholas shuffled through his keys and unlocked the closet. A cloud of gasoline fumes greeted him as he pulled open the doors. He waved it away and knelt to inspect the generator. It needed a little more gas, but otherwise everything looked fine.

  Suddenly, something pricked at the back of Nicholas’s neck. The hairs on his arm rose to attention, sent a chill shivering through his body. Was he about to get struck by lightning?

  He flipped around, and there, standing just inside the doorway was a phantom, black hood pulled up to hide its face like the grim reaper. Water ran off the figure. Two pale hands slid out of their sleeves, pushed the hood back. Nicholas’s breath caught in his throat.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I was lonely,” Sadie said, a sly smile playing across her lips. Her dark hair was raven black with wet, plastered to her forehead and cheeks like streaks of ink on paper. “Everyone else is gone, so I thought I’d say hi.”

  “Only hi?” Nicholas rose and walked slowly toward the girl.

  “It’s a good place to start, no?”

  “I think we’re already past that.”

  Nicholas stopped in front of Sadie, a head taller than her. He put his hand underneath her chin and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. He leaned in and kissed her.

  This time, lightning did strike. His vision went white. He pulled her in closer and kissed her more deeply.

  After a minute they parted. Sadie shivered.

  “You all right?”

  “Just a bit chilly.” Sadie burrowed into Nicholas’s arms.

  “Well, come a little closer then.” Nicholas pulled her in tighter and Sadie pushed him back away from the door. She looked up at him, that glint in her eye again. Mischief. Nicholas smiled back and pulled her into one of the storage stalls.

  Sadie kissed him, and Nicholas kissed her back. They made out like that for a few minutes. Then an explosion crashed somewhere nearby, jolting the couple apart.

  “What was that?” Sadie’s voice came out as a raspy whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Nicholas replied. “Maybe a bolt of lightning hit a tree.”

  Nicholas pulled out his phone and used it to find the light switch in the storage closet. He flipped it, but nothing happened. He tried it again.

  “Shit,” Nicholas cursed under his breath. “I think I know what just exploded.”

  Nicholas opened the closet door and immediately smelled a chemical stench curling through the air, tart with gasoline. The generator had ceased its chainsaw purr. He crept closer and shined his light on the dead thing, watching smoke waft off it.

  “It must have blown,” he called back to Sadie.

  “Can you fix it?” She appeared behind Nicholas, nervously twirling a strand of her hair.

  He shook his head.

  “We’ll have to wait until morning.”

  “I think that means we can go to bed,” Sadie purred slyly. “To my bed, that is.”

  But a glimmer out the front windows had caught Nicholas’s eye. A light in the fourth floor of the main building. It winked out just as quickly as it had come alive.

  “We should probably go check on everyone.” It took every ounce of responsibility in Nicholas not to jump at Sadie’s offer. “Make sure they’re okay.”

  Sadie frowned.

  “Then we can go back to your bed.” Nicholas smiled. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  They made their way across the lawn to the main building. The door clanged shut behind them as they entered. Nicholas took off his rain slicker and shook it. It snapped and echoed down the dark, empty hallway. He hung it on the coat rack and helped Sadie with hers.

  “It’s creepy in here,” Sadie whispered, shivering.

  “That’s just because it’s dark.” Nicholas flicked on his flashlight, and the beam shot down the hallway, burrowing a tunnel through the night. “Here, we’ll have to take the stairs.”

  Sadie let Nicholas lead. When they made it to the top, they walked down the fourth floor hall and checked Dr. Hagen’s office.

  “I think the light was coming from his window,” Nicholas whispered as he tried Dr. Hagen’s door. The knob turned easily and Nicholas pushed it open. He swept his flashlight across the desk, but Dr. Hagen wasn’t there.

  “Hmm… he must have turned in for the night.” Nicholas pulled the door closed again and took Sadie’s hand. “Let’s check on Rick and Mr. Sadusky.”

  They decided to check on Rick first. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway as they went. Nicholas could feel Sadie’s hand shaking in his.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he assured her as he squeezed her fingers.

  Sadie returned the pressure and smiled to herself.

  “That’s odd,” Nicholas said, staring at Rick’s wide-open door. He dropped Sadie’s hand and moved closer to investigate.

  “Rick?” he called softly into the dark room. “Mr. Ransom? Are you in there?”

  No one answered.

  “You can stay out here if you want,” Nicholas said.

  “Don’t even think about leaving me behind.”

  Sadie clung even closer to Nicholas. He could feel the goose bumps erupting up her arm. Nicholas edged into the room, eyes peeled for Rick. But he didn’t see anyone. The patient wasn’t in his bed or at his easel.

  “Where is he?” Sadie’s voice quivered.

  “Probably in the bathroom. Or getting a glass of water.” Nicholas rattled off a few excuses. “Or maybe he couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. We should wait for him to get back, though.”

  Sadie didn’t like the suggestion, but she didn’t argue. Nicholas turned around and started to shuffle aimlessly through the rows of stacked paintings. Then his flashlight beam danced across the room and fell on Rick’s easel. He’d started on a new canvas.

  “That’s different,” Nicholas said, as he realized.

  Sadie turned and Nicholas came over to get a closer look. He drew his fingers over the two swoops of paint—like a V, but with ends that mellowed out into elegant curves. A wingspan. A bird mid-flight. Rick’s usual subject, but rendered in a new style. Nicholas’s flashlight beam winked back at them, the
canvas still slick, the paint a bold red. The way it was smeared across the canvas, energetic and primal, it looked like Rick had thrown his brushes out completely and used his fingers instead.

  Nicholas inched closer to get a better look, and his toe knocked into something. He looked down and saw a plastic bag. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. It looked like someone had been hoarding their medication. His brain didn’t connect the dots, though. Instead, his eyes fell on a spot on the floor just out of reach.

  “He must have spilled,” Nicholas said, showing Sadie the edge of the pool of red paint. Nicholas walked toward it. “That’s probably where he wen—”

  The last word died on his lips. He lurched back and banged into the easel. The painting tipped and clattered to the floor.

  “We—we have to get out of here.”

  Sadie’s flashlight dipped to the floor, to the pool of red paint, and a scream clambered its way up her throat. Nicholas leaped up and clapped his hand over her mouth, forcing her to swallow the scream back down. He looked at her hard and willed her to understand.

  If she screamed, Rick would find them. And if he found them, they’d end up just like Nurse Ryann—face-up in a pool of her own blood, a second mouth curled into a ghastly smile where Rick had slit her throat from ear to ear.

  “We have to be quiet,” Nicholas whispered with all the intensity of a shout. “And fast. Do you understand?”

  Sadie’s eyes squeezed shut. Nicholas could see tears dotting her eyelashes, could see her shutting down.

  “We’re going to make it through this.”

  He held her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. Her eyes winked open and she looked up at him for a good ten seconds before nodding. He took her hand and raced back into the hallway, his flashlight turned off, thankful for the storm and its lightning flashes to navigate by.

  Nicholas didn’t bother knocking when he got to Mr. Sadusky’s room. He twisted the doorknob and rushed inside. But they were too late.

  Nicholas couldn’t stop Sadie’s yelp this time as she saw Mr. Sadusky’s lifeless body, his sheets covered in blood, his throat painted with the same second smile as Nurse Ryann. On the wall behind him, a fresh set of wings unfurled their grim feathers. Nicholas pulled Sadie back out into the hallway and started for the stairs. But before they’d taken even three steps, a noise clattered somewhere ahead of them. Nicholas spun around and pulled Sadie into Dr. Hagen’s office, locking the door behind them.