23. Powertrain
Ihad his location, and I was now entering the monster’s territory. The night was pitch black, and the old hospital’s decaying structure was barely visible against the dark empty avenue. I approached cautiously, every sense on high alert, gun in hand.
The place had seen better days before Hurricane Katrina. Now, its massive, hulking structure was marred by years of exposure to the elements. The once-pristine exterior was stained with grime and moss, cracks spider webbed across the concrete walls. Windows were shattered or boarded up, the glass shards reflecting the shadows that consumed it. Vines and ivy creeped up the sides of the building, as nature slowly reclaimed what was once hers.
I slipped through a rusted door. It creaked ominously as I pushed it open. The interior of the hospital was even more foreboding than the outside. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and rot, the walls stained with water damage and graffiti. Every step I took echoed through the empty corridors, the sound amplifying the eerie silence that pervaded the place. Shadows danced along the walls, created by the faint light that managed to seep through the broken windows.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket, turning on the flashlight as I walked through the front entrance carefully, avoiding the broken glass and debris that littered the floor. There was broken furniture, scattered papers, and medical equipment left to rust. The ceiling was pockmarked with holes, where water dripped steadily into murky puddles below.
I looked one way then the other, the hallways were long and winding. I realized quickly that the grounds were too large for me to search them alone. I needed backup, and I regretted not having Tick tock come with me. The old place gave off a haunting feeling, with its walls peeling, the layers of paint flaking off to reveal the bare plaster beneath. Occasionally, an old, rusted wheelchair or gurney could be seen pushed against a wall, as if hastily abandoned.
As I flashed my phone into each room, I noticed that some of the patient rooms still had beds, their mattresses sagging and stained, sheets left in disarray. Medical charts and personal belongings lay scattered, untouched since the day the hospital was evacuated.
The deeper I went, the colder it became. In some rooms, the ceiling tiles had collapsed, leaving heaps of rubble on the floor. Old, rusting instruments lay in trays, while the operating tables shrouded in dust. I reached one of the stairwells which was dark and foreboding, and I hesitated. The sound of dripping water was the only constant, a slow, rhythmic reminder of time ticking by. Doors creaked on their hinges, swinging gently as if moved by unseen hands. The sensation of being watched was overwhelming, every hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
As I moved further into the hospital, a faint sound caught my attention—a whisper, almost inaudible, but unmistakably human. I followed the sound, my heart pounding harder with each step. The corridor ended in a set of double doors, one of which was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, revealing a large, open room.
In the center of the room, a figure stood, partially obscured by the shadows. It was a woman, her back to me, seemingly unaware of my presence. I watched as she moved cautiously, every movement filled with trepidation.
“Whisper?” I hesitated, the eerie atmosphere of the place pressing down on me.
The figure slightly turned to me, her eyes wide with fear. Her resemblance to Whisper shocked me, and the confusion slowly overwhelmed me. As I followed her gaze, I noticed the cage on the floor, and inside it stood a small raven.
Panic flooded through my brain, and as I took a step further into the room when something heavy collided against the back of my head. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and the world tilted dangerously. I stumbled forward, my vision swimming, before everything went black.
When I came to, my head throbbed with a dull ache, and my surroundings slowly came into focus. I was strapped into an old wooden wheelchair, my wrists bound tightly to the armrests.
Across the room, Hargrave moved with predatory grace, his silhouette a menacing presence against the dim light. He was rummaging through the old trays, pulling out instruments with a cold, calculated precision. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched him, knowing all too well what he was capable of.
He turned towards me, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he brandished a sharp scalpel. ”Lee,” he purred, his voice dripping with malice. ”So good of you to join us.”
I struggled against my restraints, but they held me fast. Fear clawed at my throat, threatening to choke me. ”You can kill me, but you let them go.” I managed to croak, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” He asked.
He walked over to the cage, and I jerked, trying to rip myself out of the restraints, but it was of no use. They were made of thick leather, like those used in the psych wards to keep patients from hurting themselves.
“You never told me the fascinating pet you had.” He crouched down to look through the cage opening, and the raven cawed, as if cursing at him.
Hargrave”s smile widened, revealing gleaming teeth. ”I think a little dissection wouldn’t hurt. See what lies beneath the surface of those wings.”
My blood ran cold at his words. We were in real danger. Hargrave”s twisted mind had concocted some horrifying plan for us and as I searched for a way out while hoping that Hoax had my location.
Come on, Hoax. Don”t let me down.
Hargrave advanced towards me, the scalpel glinting in his hand. ”Don’t worry, Lee” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. ”I”ll make it quick. Or maybe I won”t. After all, I invited you here to suffer?”
He slid the scalpel over my forearm, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain. He twisted my arm in the restraints and closed my fists, fighting him.
“No. No,” I gritted out, watching in shock as the blade cut through the vein in my wrist.
Crimson ran down my arm, my tattoos blurring in the blood. My arm slipped and he turned my arm upright, patting me on the shoulder.
“Uh uh, don”t let it slip. You”ll only die faster,” he whispered in my ear.”
He then tucked the knife in his back pocket and produced a blade, a professional hunting blade. He wielded it in front of me, playing with the edge.
“This is my favorite knife. This is the one that sliced through Lucy.”
He pressed it to my throat, then ran it down my chest and jerked his hand in a stabbing motion, as if he was going to stab me, but he didn”t. He only laughed when I jumped in my seat, bracing myself.
He pressed the tip of the blade beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I wonder if your bird will scream if I slide this against its neck.
“Fuck you,” I spat out, already getting woozy from the loss of blood.”
“Oh no, we can”t have that.”
He suddenly jerked his hand; this time he did go through with it. It was a quick motion as the blade entered my side and then it was gone. Pain slowly took my breath away.
We both stared at blood covering the metal, and he clicked his tongue, shaking his head in dismay.
“The things you make me do, Lee.” He then proceeded to wipe the blood away against my leather vest, making sure to coat the patch with my road name.
“Powertrain. You don”t look like much of a powertrain anymore, do you?”
“I”m ready to die, Hargrave. But I guarantee, that bird doesn”t fly alone.”
“She doesn”t?” He raised a brow. “Then I guess we”ll just have to find out.
He slowly walked over to the metal cage on the floor. The raven cawed in panic as he reached in for it. He cradled it tightly, stroking its head as it struggled in his grasp. I held my breath as I watched him lift the scalpel over her head. I roared out a cry for help, and that’s when I felt it. That same power that emanated from Whisper.
In all this, I had forgotten about the woman. The woman who resembled my Whisper. The one I thought was a specter. Her cry was not normal. It was painful and full of sorrow. And as I watched the bird flap its wings behind his head, I felt my own human adrenaline kick in.
With all my force, I tipped the chair over, and the wood cracked, just enough for me to tear my arm free. The raven was flicking around Hargrave”s head. It”s beak digging into his scalp.
Whisper”s raven lay motionless on the ground. And I quickly ran to it, gently cradling it.
“Whisper, shift baby. Please shift.” The bird stirred and hope was restored.
“Come on, Whisper.” I lay her on the ground, waiting for that power to come. And when it didn”t, my hope was replaced with rage.
I turned to Hargrave, who had managed to get a hold of the raven and I did the only thing I could. I tackled him, bringing him down to the ground. We wrestled, just like we had back in college. Only now I was stronger, more experienced. He maneuvered easily, getting out of my headlock. And suddenly, in one swift move he had me pinned to the ground.
The raven”s power once again washed over me, and as I pushed him off and slammed him back on the ground, his blade caught me. I stumbled back, falling against the remnants of a bed”s metal railing.
Outside the window, the sound of motorcycle engines filled the night. Inside, I sat in shock, completely helpless as the blade protruded from my chest. My breathing was shallow, and I wondered why I wasn’t dead yet.
Looking over to my tight, I noticed Whisper”s naked form lying limply on the floor. If she died, then I”d die. The screams that emanated from Ronald Hargrave were satisfying. The raven was digging his eyes out-a gruesome scene to watch. And as he lay there, his face marred, his breathing shallow, I smiled at him this time.
“I win,” I whispered, taking one last slow breath.