A Night in Mount Massive (Outlast Fanfiction)

Chapter Ten

                                            Into the Male Ward Part Two

Miles, Waylon, and I were now all standing on the top of the elevator, in another darkened section of the Male Ward. The black and white checkered flooring seemed to be a common theme here. We stepped off of the elevator top, standing in the middle of the room we were in. To the right of the elevator, there was a grated door leading to one of the upper floors; but it was locked. To our left was another grated door. It, too, was locked. The white paint was peeling off of the walls here. There were double doors directly across from it, but they had wooden boards sealing them off. To the right of these doors was another corridor, the door open.

“You two ready?” Miles asked, looking between Waylon and I.

“As we’ll ever be, I suppose.” Waylon replied with a half-smile.

“The further we get into this place, the closer we get to getting out. So that’s a silver lining at least.” I commented, trying to inspire not only them but myself as well. Miles and I had arrived here at nine o’ clock p.m. It was now two a.m. Miles still had his cell phone, and although his phone service was completely out, we could still see the time and we were able to keep track of it. We’d been here five hours. I had no idea how long poor Waylon had been navigating through this damned mess.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right, Blackie.” Miles said, and we made our way into the open corridor, looking around. The floors in this corridor were hard wood; creaking eerily in the night. To our right was another blocked set of double doors. Paper littered the floor. There were overturned file cabinets, a stool, and a metal cart. Straight ahead of us was an abandoned wheelchair, the door directly in front of it sealed shut with plyboards. We walked through the only available door to our left, stopping at a staircase, leading both up and down.

“I’ll check the upstairs and see if we can go that way.” Waylon replied, already heading up the stairs. Miles and I heard him pulling at a door, but it wasn’t budging. He ran back downstairs, shaking his head.

“We can’t get anywhere up there. Only way to go is down.” Waylon said, and the three of us headed down the stairs. The Male Ward was pretty dark in this area, so thankfully we still had our night vision. At the bottom of the stairs, there was an opening in the wall, so we squeezed through it, coming into what looked like an office. There was a computer desk in front of us, the computer still on, a blue screen asking for a password. There were two bookshelves against the wall on the right, many files lining them. Hanging on the wall next to the bookshelves was an award in a picture frame. It read: “Team Player Award: Patrick Petryna.” I wondered briefly what had become of him. With nothing else to see in this room, we opened the door, heading into another large area. There were more overturned file cabinets and furniture; paper littering the floors. We kept walking until we reached the end of the large room. We came to a stop when we saw Father Martin on the other side of the doors; shining a flashlight.

“Thank God you all survived. I feared that secular maniac would carve you all up like the others. Meet me outside. We’re close now.” He said, turning and running in the opposite direction.

“Now we have to go on a wild goose chase for Father Martin? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I said in annoyance.

“Looks that way, Blackie. Like we have a choice. Let’s go.” Miles replied, sounding equally as annoyed as I was.

“Son of a shit biscuit.” Waylon grumbled, following behind us as we headed into yet another darkened corridor. We turned to our left, heading into a nearby bathroom. We all stopped when we saw that one of the sinks had a person’s leg cut from the knee down and an arm in it. Someone had set the body parts on fire, flames dancing over the skin, the smell of burned flesh gagging us.