Page 67 of Into the Dark

“What’s going on?” Zeek asked. “Is that the nurse? Is she going to help us?”

Nurse Young had reached the door and passed through its closed surface. “Yes,” he said. “And she said the doctor has Nigel, so come on!”

Nigel lay on his back on a hard, cold surface. The only light came from his flashlight, somewhere to his right, probably on the floor given the beam’s angle. It revealed a room that had once been painted pale green. Now the paint had cracked, edges curling up, like scabs ready to fall off. Mold climbed up from the floor, and the ceiling above was spotted like the coat of a diseased leopard. Directly overhead was an old-style surgical light, surrounded by reflectors that could be positioned to direct beams wherever needed.

His mind reeled, and his lungs felt filled with concrete. Each gasping breath brought in only a small amount of oxygen.

He was dying.

How had he gotten here? He’d encountered the ghost of Dr. Wilkes outside the morgue, and then…

He didn’t recall how he’d gotten into the basement, either. Maybe Dr. Wilkes had been able to possess him, though he’d always been taught only mediums could be possessed. Perhaps his mind had been clouded in some way, memories manipulated…

It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the struggle to breathe. To hang on just a little bit longer.

The surgical light overhead flickered—and a sickly green luminescence that had nothing to do with electricity began to glow in its heart. A creak and the rustle of cloth came from one side, but Nigel was too weak to even turn his head.

He didn’t need to. Dr. Wilkes loomed over him, still dressed in the rancid surgical gown. Thick rubber gloves covered his hands, and he wore a surgical cap and cloth face mask. The mask was black over his mouth, as though his breath rotted it.

The strip of skin left uncovered between mask and cap crawled with disease: blackened veins, clusters of pustules, purple lesions. Yellow crusts surrounded bloodshot eyes, the pupils made ghostly from white growths on the cornea.

Nigel’s cry of horror turned into a fit of coughing. Dr. Wilkes leaned over him, as if drinking in his suffering. The ghost must be feeding off his pain and fear—but he was helpless to do anything about it.

“Don’t worry.”Dr. Wilkes’s voice sounded distant, as if he spoke from the bottom of a well.“I’ll fix you right up.”

He lifted a bone saw—the same one Nigel had touched the first day in the asylum. The day he’d started feeling bad, and blamed it all on allergies.

The doctor had been feeding off him the entire time.

“St-Stop,” Nigel tried to gasp out.

“I’m the doctor here. I know what’s good for you.”The diseased eyes scanned Nigel’s body.“You’re suffering from delusions, but I can help.”The bone saw waved over his torso, from pelvis to throat, then paused over his chest.“Let’s start with removing your lungs. That should put you right as rain.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

The doorfrom the boiler room opened onto another steam tunnel. Nurse Young swept ahead of Oscar in a smooth glide that didn’t involve feet touching the floor. Double doors swung open to one side, more fog spilling out, and Oscar glimpsed the steel drawers of a morgue. Bangs sounded from within, as though someone was desperately trying to get out.

“Go back to sleep.”

Unlike the whip-crack tone she’d turned on Oscar, this command was gentle, almost tender. A mother tucking a child back into bed after a nightmare.

The banging fell silent, and the fog dissipated. He could still feel the eyes of the dead as they passed by, but the spirits either respected or feared the former head nurse enough to retreat.

“What the fuck,” Zeek muttered—none of the others could see or sense everything Oscar could. Chris had their camera up and rolling; maybe it was less frightening to view everything at one remove.

The hall with the morgue on it let onto another steam tunnel. A sign on the wall had an arrow pointing ahead, along with a single word: Surgery.

This couldn’t be the original surgery—the asylum had been built in a time before electric light. The storage area was directly above; perhaps it had been used for medical treatment before Dr. Wilkes moved everything down here to hide his grotesque procedures.

This was where the doctor lurked—the heart of his power. And Nigel was with him.

Please let Nigel be okay. Please, please don’t let them be too late.

This time, Nurse Young didn’t quietly pass through the doors as she had in the boiler room. Instead, she held up one hand, and they crashed open, hard enough to strike the wall.“Stop!”she boomed.

Oscar rushed after her—and into a scene that nearly froze him in horror.

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