Crazy Dangerous

by Andrew Klavan

  I passed a series of big windows. I pressed my face to them and peered inside. They were mostly offices, dark and empty. Then when I got to the rear corner of the wall, there was a row of smaller windows, closer to the ground. All of these windows were dark too. Looking to my right and left to make sure there was no one to see me, I drew close to the smaller windows. I knelt down and pressed my face against one of them. I couldn’t see anything, so I took out my flashlight and shone it through the window glass. As I expected, I was looking into the hospital’s cellar. I saw a kind of tiled room with a large bath in the center of it. I moved on to the next window. This time I saw a trash can with brooms sticking out of it. There was a tall shelf with towels and sheets on it. There was a pair of green overalls hanging on the wall.

  That was the window I wanted.

  I took the Buster out of my pocket. Jeff Winger had taught me his trade well. In under fifteen seconds I had the window lock picked and opened. I guess I would have been a good thief, if I’d stuck with it.

  But just as I was pushing the window up, I thought: What if there’s an alarm?

  It was too late. The window rattled upward. I held my breath, waiting for the siren.

  No siren. No alarm. Silence.

  I grabbed hold of the sill and scrambled up and in through the window.

  I dropped to the floor. My sneakers muffled the sound of my landing. I crouched there, listening. For a long moment I couldn’t hear anything except the beating of my own heart and my quick, nervous breathing. Then, as I calmed down a little, I started to hear the noises of the building: air moving through vents; footsteps in hallways above me; distant, muffled voices fading in and out.

  I shone my flashlight around. As I expected, I was in a large supply closet: a small room with shelves of towels and linens, garbage cans on wheels, brooms, a couple of trolley-carts, and so on. There were also overalls—not just the ones hanging on the door, but a few others on hangers, dangling from a rod.

  I moved quickly to the overalls and started looking through them for a pair in my size. The best ones I found looked big, but it was as close as I could get. I was just beginning to peel them off the hanger when I heard a noise. Someone was close and quickly getting closer.

  I froze. It sounded like a trolley-cart on wheels. It was coming down the hall toward the supply room door.

  Quickly I doused my flashlight and ducked behind the overalls. It was the only place to hide, and they didn’t hide me much. I knew my sneakers were sticking out from underneath the overalls. Anyone who came in would probably see me.

  The cart noise came closer and closer—and sure enough, it stopped outside the door. I held my breath. If I was caught now—here—they would take me back to the police, and I didn’t think my father would be able to talk me out of jail this time. It finally—finally!—occurred to me just how stupid I had been to do this, to come here. I realized—finally!—just how big a risk I was taking. Suddenly, Do right; fear nothing didn’t sound like such good advice after all.

  I nearly groaned aloud in fear as the doorknob on the supply room door began to turn. The door began to open. Wider. Then a man’s voice spoke—just outside.

  “Dave?”

  The door clicked shut again. The next time the voice spoke, it was muffled. Another man’s voice answered, also muffled. Even though I strained to hear, I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  I stayed where I was. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. My throat was too dry. I waited for the door to open again—all the way this time.

  But the next thing I knew, I heard the wheels of the cart start rolling once more over the hallway floor outside. This time, though, the noise got softer and softer. Yes! The man with the cart was going away! After a while the sound of it was gone altogether.

  I breathed for what felt like the first time in minutes. Then I started to move again, quickly now.

  I snaked out from behind the overalls. I was too afraid to turn the flashlight back on, so I just felt my way around. I found the overalls I’d had before. I started to pull them on over my clothes. They really were big, bigger than I’d thought. I had to roll the cuffs up over my sneaker heels so I’d be able to walk. Then I had to roll up the sleeves so my hands would be free. Even so, when I was finished, the overalls hung like a tent canvas around me.

  I went to the cart—the one with the big trash can and brooms on it. I took hold of its handle and rolled it to the door.

  With one hand on the cart handle, I used my free hand to draw the door open. I stuck my head out and peeked around. There was a hallway. Empty. I took a deep breath. Here we go, I thought.

  Then I pushed the door open all the way and pulled my trolley-cart out into the hall.

  I had gotten into the hospital at least. Now all I had to do was find Jennifer.

  21

  Sales, J.

  I tucked my chin into my chest to hide my face. I pushed the cart along the hall, moving as quickly as I could. Sure, I was in disguise, but it wasn’t much of a disguise, was it? I mean, if someone walked by me really fast without paying too much attention, they might not notice anything peculiar. But the second anyone took a closer look at me, I was pretty much toast. A smallish sixteen-year-old kid with his overalls rolled up at the cuffs and sliding down at the sleeves: I must’ve looked like a sixth grader dressed up for Halloween. If I was going to reach Jennifer—if I was going to find out what she’d seen and what she thought was going to happen—I was going to have to do it fast, before anyone spotted me.

  Where did I begin to look? I didn’t think there’d be any patients down here in the cellar. The halls were pretty empty. There were no nurses or aides or anything that I could see. Most of the doors were closed, and the few that were open revealed offices, baths, and a furnace room. I figured I had to get upstairs.

  Luckily, there were arrows painted on the wall pointing to the elevators. Also luckily, I reached the elevator without bumping into anyone. Even more luckily, no one came by after I pushed the button and stood waiting for the elevator to arrive.

  The door opened. The elevator was big, empty. My cart and I both got on. There were only two more floors in the building. I had seen the offices on the first floor, so I guessed that the patients’ rooms would be on the second. I pushed the button for the second floor.

  That’s when my luck ran out.

  The door had started to close when I heard a woman’s voice: “Hold it! Could you hold the elevator, please?”

  I froze. I prayed the elevator door would close before the woman reached it. But it just seemed to hang open forever. Then, slowly, slowly it started to slide shut.

  And there was the woman now, coming into view, reaching for the door. What should I do? If I didn’t hold it for her, it would look really suspicious. So quickly I reached out and grabbed the edge of the door. It slid back. The woman got on.

  “Thanks so much,” she said.

  I nodded, trying to keep my head down so she wouldn’t see how young I was. Also, the motion to hold the door had sent my sleeve rolling back down over my hand. It looked ridiculous.

  But you know how people act in elevators: they don’t look at each other much. The woman turned away from me at once and pushed the first-floor button. She faced the door as it shut. I quickly rolled my sleeve back up again.

  The elevator ground upward, slow, slow, slow. The woman stood with her back to me. She was a tall, thin woman. I don’t know how old—maybe thirty. She was wearing a suit, the skirt and jacket the same color. She had short brown hair. That was pretty much all I could see, standing behind her like that.

  “Are these the slowest elevators in the world or what?” she said—but she still didn’t look at me.

  I was in a panic. I knew if I said too much, my kid’s voice would give me away. If I didn’t say anything, she’d turn and look at me.

  So I made my voice as old-sounding as I could and grunted. “Yeah.”

  “They take forever,” she muttered, but s
he was talking more to herself now.

  Then the elevator reached the first floor. The door opened.

  “Thanks again,” the woman said. She turned her face my way, but she didn’t really look at me. Then she was off the elevator, walking away.

  I started to sigh with relief—but it caught in my throat as two men stepped into the elevator to take the woman’s place. They pressed the same button I had pressed—they were going to the second floor like me. They barely glanced my way. Like the woman—like most people in an elevator—they faced the door.

  “I don’t see how they can make any more cuts,” one man said.

  “I know. The staff is down to the minimum as it is,” said the other.

  “On the other hand, where’s the money gonna come from?”

  “Right—that’s the big question.”

  The elevator stopped again. Second floor. The door opened. The two men got out and turned off to the left. I pushed my cart out after them. I couldn’t take the chance of following them, so tucking in my chin, I started down the hall directly in front of me.

  Turned out not to be such a great idea. When I looked up, I saw a hallway with doors on either side of it. But in the middle of the hall, there was an open space with a counter. Behind the counter I could see two people, one a guy and the other a woman. They were both large. They were both in white. Nurses or aides, I guessed. They glanced up at me as I came their way, so I figured it was too late to turn around without making them suspicious. I just kept pushing the cart toward them.

  The corridor had a quiet, late-night atmosphere. As I went along it, I stole glances at the doors to my left and right. The doors were wooden, heavy. Each one of them had a small metal label holder next to it. The labels had names on them: Sanders, T.; Monahan, G.; Callahan, B.; and so on. So there was my plan. All I had to do was keep walking down the halls and reading the names until I got to Jennifer’s.

  I pushed the cart down the hall, looking left and right as I went by the doors.

  “How ya doin’?”

  I nearly jumped at the sound of the voice, but it was just the male aide. I’d reached the counter where he was standing. He was a big guy like I said—very big and pale-faced with very broad, square shoulders that made him look like a tremendous block of cement. I didn’t answer him. I just made a sort of greeting gesture at him with my head and kept pushing my cart along. When I was past him, I didn’t dare look back to see whether he and the other aide were watching me or not. I half expected them to notice my baggy overalls, my young appearance—to call after me, “You there, stop!”

  But they didn’t. I just kept pushing the cart down the hall, kept reading the names on either side: Walters, C.; Christiansen, P.; . . .

  I couldn’t believe it. Somehow, I was actually getting away with this. If I could just find Jennifer before I was caught . . .

  I reached the end of the hall and turned the corner. The next hall was empty except for a single nurse all the way down at the end. She was just coming out of one of the rooms. She crossed the hall and went into the room on the other side. Then everything was quiet. Not a voice, hardly a sound. Just the buzzing of machinery. The hum of fluorescent lights. And then the rattle of my wheels as I pushed the cart along more quickly, reading the names as fast as I could: O’Brien, T.; Porter, Q.; Sales, J.; Malloy, R. . . .

  I stopped short, the wheels going silent.

  Sales, J.

  That was Jennifer!

  I was so surprised to have actually found her, I almost didn’t notice it. I looked around over my shoulder. Still no one else in the hall. I backed up to Jennifer’s door.

  My hand went into my overalls, into my coat pocket underneath. My fingers curled around the Buster. I figured they must lock the patients in at night and I’d have to break through. I reached for the doorknob with my other hand—and to my total surprise, the knob turned easily. It wasn’t locked at all.

  The door came open.

  It was dark in the room, but the light from the hall fell in, a thin wedge of light. As I pushed the door open more, the wedge spread wider and wider.

  I saw a desk. I saw a picture on the wall. I glanced down the hall. No one there. I pushed the door wider. I saw the foot of a bed. More of the bed. Then . . .

  “Sam Hopkins!”

  My heart felt like it was going to explode. There she was—Jennifer!—sitting up at the head of the bed. She was clutching the blankets to her chin in fear. She was staring at me with eyes open wide. But in the next moment, the fear washed out of her expression as she fully recognized me.

  “Sam Hopkins!” she said again.

  You would not believe how loud her voice sounded in that quiet hospital.

  “Jennifer, shh! Shh!” I whispered desperately.

  She leapt off the bed and came rushing toward me. She was wearing a flannel nightgown, white with flowers on it. She had her arms spread as if she was about to wrap me in a tremendous hug.

  “Sam Hopkins!” she said again—and though this time she whispered it, it still sounded awfully loud.

  I held out my open hand at her like a traffic cop, trying to get her to stop, to stay where she was. I grabbed the trolley-cart out in the hall. Took one more quick look around out there to make sure no one was in sight.

  But someone was.

  The nurse. She had come out of the room she was in. She crossed the hall again and disappeared into the room on the opposite side.

  Now I understood. She was checking on patients, one after another. Coming this way. At the rate she was moving, I figured I had about five to ten minutes before she reached Jennifer’s room.

  Quickly I pulled the cart into the room and shut the door, plunging the room into darkness.

  I didn’t see Jennifer reach me, but I knew she was beside me when she clutched my wrist in both her hands.

  “You came for me!” she said.

  “I never thought I’d find you,” I told her.

  “But you were magic.”

  “I’m not magic, trust me.”

  “You are.”

  “Whatever.”

  “When I was screaming, they put me in another place,” she said. “They locked me in.”

  “Just keep your voice down, will you?!”

  “The room was white. It was empty. I had to stay there until I was quiet.”

  “Shh!”

  “They gave me medicine to make me sleep. But I didn’t sleep. I just got quiet.”

  I wished she would be quiet now!

  “Then they brought me to this room. It’s better here.”

  “Okay, okay.” I didn’t have time to listen to her life story now. That nurse was doing her rounds, on her way. Who could tell how fast she’d get here? I needed to find out what was going to happen tomorrow—I needed to find out now.

  Jennifer’s two hands were still clutching my wrist. I clutched her two hands in my two. I shook her hands to get her attention. Even though it was dark in the room, there was some light seeping in around the edges of the window blind, and now that my eyes were adjusting, I could make out Jennifer’s face. Her eyes were eager, focused on me. “Listen,” I said. “Listen.”

  “I’m so happy,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here, Sam Hopkins.”

  “Yeah, just try to be happy quietly, okay? We have to act fast. You have to tell me what you saw.”

  “Saw?”

  “About the dead—remember? You said there were going to be so many dead. Tomorrow, you said.”

  “So many dead,” she echoed in a low, awestruck voice.

  “Where?”

  “What?”

  “Where, Jennifer? Where are the dead?”

  She blinked, confused. She shook her head. “Everywhere.”

  “No, but where are they going to be?”

  She shook her head again. She was still gazing at me with that eager look, but it was clear she didn’t know what I was talking about.

  I tried again. “Where did you see the dead, Jenni
fer?”

  “In the common room.”

  “In the . . . ?”

  “Then in the phone room later.”

  “Jennifer, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know. It was awful. They were lying on the chairs and on the floor. There was so much blood.”

  I was so frustrated, I wanted to shake her. How long could I stand here talking to her before that nurse reached us, before she found me here and sounded the alarm?

  I shook Jennifer’s hands in mine again. I knew what was happening. She was telling me her hallucination, just like she did before out by the willow tree. It was up to me to figure out what it meant.

  “Okay, okay,” I said again. “So you saw the dead people lying around the common room.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see anything else?”

  “Blood,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, yeah, besides the blood. I mean, did you see, like, a tree or one of those tarns or something, like you did before?”

  She stared and stared at me with those wide eyes. Then she shook her head. “No. Just . . . bodies. Just blood.”

  This was no help, no help at all. “Why are there going to be bodies, Jennifer?” I tried asking then. “How are the people going to die?”

  She looked at me now as if I was being silly, as if I didn’t understand the simplest thing. “The demons! The demons are going to kill them.”

  Right, of course. The demons. Great.

  I knew I was running out of time, fast. I had to get out of there before I was caught. But I’d come so far, I couldn’t help but try to reach her one last time.

  “Jennifer,” I said, “is there anything—anything you could tell me—anything that would help me find the demons, that would help me find out who the demons are, or where they live or how to stop them?”

  The question seemed to reach her. At last, she seemed to understand. There was a long moment of silence in the dark room. Jennifer’s eyes drifted away from me, and I could tell she was thinking it over, trying to help me out, trying to think of some clue that would give me the direction I needed.

  And then, in the shadows, I saw her face brighten. I saw the idea come to her. She turned back to me.