Corridor, lower level. Infirmary wing.
Room 204B.
Pacing was something to do. Better than sitting in the bed watching hours crawl by on the analog clock. It was more entertaining to watch the second hand spin than stare at the ceiling at least. No footsteps had been heard in the hallway, not since the last time the nurse had come to check in. It wasn't particularly concerning, although a bit abnormal.
They counted one hour, twenty six minutes and thirty seconds since hearing or seeing a single other human being. Anxiety crept in slowly as the minutes ticked by. Why not sit back down. Walking is painful anyways. One hour into two, two into two and a half. Rather frustrating, really. Perhaps they would be in a dire need of assistance at some point soon? Who would come to help if no one had bothered to check in on them in their time of need?
How about taking inventory then, is what they settled to do in the meantime. They allowed themself to recline back on to the bed. White tiled ceilings, standard. Bright ass overhead light that induced headaches, also standard. Television opposite the bed, not typical as most had not the need to stay so long. They were a special case. Sink station, whiteboard with information, door, window, bathroom, all standard. Antiseptic smell... nauseating but standard.
Yes, this is definitely an infirmary room, they thought. Very typical.
A shrill buzzing started. BEEP BEEP BEEP. That is not standard. BEEP BEEP BEEP. What could it be? The room had been cast in a red light, with some intermitant flashing in between. Turning towards the door, just above the frame sat the fire alarm. Oh, yes. Those ARE standard aren't they.
Attempting to steady themselves on unsure feet, they pushed themself off the bed. Is this how the sailors felt after long deployments at sea? That would never be their problem. In a few uncoordinated steps plus minimal tripping, they arrived at the door. Clearly pacing hours earlier had not helped them in the long run. Maybe if someone had bothered to check on them, this situation could have been avoided.
Now to open the door and-
Oh. The door is locked? Perhaps a quick tug and-
No. Still locked. What the fuck?
Who would lock a patient in a room without warning? Okay, assholes, two can play at this game.
Someone had decided that the doors would have a semi transparent glass panel set into the center. This made it so some hallway light could be let in, as well as somewhat notifying a patient that someone was about to enter the room. In this case is would work for a breakout scenario. Using their left arm, they aimed for one of the corners of the panel. Centers tend not to break as easily. A few somewhat forceful blows, and glass was sent flying into the hall.
They stepped their bad leg through first, so not to put too much weight on it as they traversed through the now shattered panel. Now in the corridor, they noticed just how dead it was. The lights had been cut, save for the emergency ones plus the exit signs. No doors were open, nor were any interior lights on. Strange, were other patients evacuated? Had they been forgotten about?
Now more sure on their feet, they made their way towards the exit. The fire alarm still went strong, deafening in the background. The exit door was another with the glass panel in the center. Alright, round two.
Except this door, strangely enough, pulled open rather easily. Strange. They peered out at an abandoned nurses station. Not a single person in sight. Again, strange.
