The Virus, Lee, Damien [summer beach reads .txt] 📗

when the man slammed against it. The impact caused him to stagger back, allowing the doors to close. Amy heard his indignant roar as the elevator began to rise.

She exhaled, unaware that she had been holding her breath. She watched the numbers above the door light up, one after the other. As each second passed, fear gripped her stomach tighter. The lift ascended past the fourth floor, where a scream preceded an almighty thud against the doors. The sounds diminished as she ascended, but she could still hear the agonising cry. Her heart raced as she reached her destination. With a prompt ding, the elevator arrived at the sixth floor.

The doors slid open and Amy braced herself for scenes of bloody carnage on the other side. What she actually saw was a picture of normality; a stark contrast to what she envisioned. The white-washed walls weren’t tainted with blood, the tiled floor wasn’t encumbered with bodies, and the sterile air had no traces of copper, excrement or any other aromas associated with death. The only discrepancy was its sound. The floor was deathly quiet. Usually filled with the bustle of medical staff, the beeping of electronic monitors and the din of chatter, the ward was silent. Outside, she could hear the muffled din of sirens. On the floors below, she could hear a tumult of shouting and screaming. But on this floor, she could only hear her thumping heart and faltering steps as she left the elevator.

“Hello?”

She cringed at how amplified her voice seemed on the desolate ward. The doors behind her closed as the elevator descended to another floor. She watched the illuminated figures fall to number four. There, it stopped. Amy stared, waiting for it to move again.

A gentle clatter down the ward caught her attention. She turned and made her way down the corridor, the heels of her shoes casting a dull clunk with each step.

“Hello?” she repeated. There was no response.

She cast an inquisitive glance into each room as she passed. All were empty. She stopped beside one of the doors and peered into the dark room. The curtains were drawn. It was the only room she couldn’t see into, but she doubted anyone was there. The clatter came again, close this time.

Amy turned and made her way to the nurses’ station at the far end of the ward. Where is everyone?

She reached the end of the ward only to find that it too was vacant. A desktop fan slowly rotated; its path obstructed by an overturned computer monitor. It clattered against the obstacle again before turning back, expelling cool air to the rest of the empty ward.

Disheartened, Amy returned to the elevator. Countless questions danced around her mind. Her manager had seemed so anxious for her return, yet where was she? And where were all the patients? What was going on?

She looked up at the illuminated figures and saw the elevator was still on the fourth floor. She pressed the button to call it and stepped back. The noises on the lower levels had ceased, at least as far as she could hear.

Seconds passed as she tried hard to justify the strange events. Nothing made sense. Had the hospital been evacuated? If so, why? There was no evidence of fire damage or smoke. And where was everyone at? She sought a reason, but there was nothing that didn’t defy logic. She pressed the call button again and turned to look back at the ward.

Nothing seemed out of place. The beds in the side rooms were unmade and the computer monitor was upturned, but nothing that evidenced a mass exodus.

A distant scream startled her. It sounded like it was coming from outside. Leaving the elevator behind, she made for the nearest window. The view wasn’t ideal, only offering sights of the rear of the hospital. She could see the vast, desolate moors and distant hills, but not a single person.

Discouraged, she resumed her vigil by the elevator. Seconds turned to minutes with still no movement from the fourth floor. She pressed the button again. The number four continued its mocking glow.

With a sigh of disdain, Amy turned and made her way over to the fire exit. She didn’t like the idea of descending six flights of stairs, and even less the idea of walking past the fourth floor, but she had to leave one way or another.

She pushed the fire door wide and left the sixth floor behind. The air on the back stairs was cool, similar to the underground car park. A pang of fear swept through her when she remembered the lunatic. The stairs led down into the bowels of the hospital. Down into the car park. What if he was waiting? What if he came up?

She peered over the railing, looking into the abyss that led to the lower ground floor. The feeble light of the car park did little to illuminate the base of the stairway, but she could not see any movement.

She stepped down, her heels casting a dull echo as she went. She could hear her rapid heartbeat in her ears, its tempo increasing the further she descended. The silence was almost too much to bear and she increased her speed. She cleared the fifth floor and apprehensively approached the fourth. There was no further noise, but she could still hear the screams in her head. She watched the door as she approached, half expecting it to be thrown open.

The cleaner appeared in her mind again. His eyes. His grin. She gripped the handrail as she reached the fourth level, her eyes still fixed on the door. The images were displaced by the man in the car park. The foaming mouth, the longing roar. She reached the door and turned towards the next stairway. Her fear eased its grip on her lungs and she exhaled deeply.

The reprieve was only