Survival

Chapter 32 Living Nightmares

The boisterous conversations dominated the airwaves in the cafeteria as Mischa picked away at her potatoes. Excitement floated through the air even though its source was a mystery. The past few days had proved fruitless in terms of finding a battery, but a smile from Quinton boosted her spirits back up.

An older man stood up slowly from his seat. His salt and pepper beard glistened in the harsh lighting along with his balding head. His loud voice boomed across the room, overpowering even the loudest of clangs from the kitchen.

"They are watching us, waiting to play us like bishops and knights," the man cried out.

"Okay, crazy dude," Quinton said with a laugh. His face dropped seconds later when the old man's lips stopped moving. The man's body went stiff, and he collapsed to the floor, a hand over his heart. Mischa gave her friend a swift elbow to the side.

People rushed to the elder's side including doctors on their lunch breaks. The medical team wheeled in a stretcher minutes later, and they carted him away. The man's last words bounced around inside her skull. Were the words possessed by illness or was he a vessel for another speaker?

Her thoughts refused to lay idle as everyone left the cafeteria. She asked around to see if she could find the hospital wing because the condition of the man bothered her. The outburst had been so unexpected not to mention the point resonated with her. She had never seen anyone drop to the ground unconscious before; all of her grandparents were living until that day. Her mother's death was unexpected, but she had been at school when it happened. Her father insisted on a closed casket as he wouldn't look upon her lifeless form. It hurt too much. Could the man from the cafeteria be dead?

Mischa went down two floors and after a few turns, she found a hallway that seemed very sterile, dressed in white walls and laminate floors. The hospital wing must be close. The only people around rushed from one end of the hall to the next in gray coats without stopping. She wanted to ask where to go but no one else walked this section. Would have been a good idea to bring Quinton? She suppressed the thought. No need to be more dependent than she already was. Dependence led to feelings that she already wished she hadn't experienced.

Mischa kept expecting to see a sign or a reception desk, but as she grew nearer to the end of the hallway, only a series of closed and locked metal doors greeted her. She was about to turn around when she caught a glimpse of one of the rooms with its door ajar. Peaking inside, she instantly recognized a stark contrast to what she knew about hospital rooms.

Beakers of varying sizes lined the shelves, microscopes sat around the L-shaped counter, much like chemistry class. When she stepped inside, she saw a young boy lying in the corner with electrodes on his chest and a monitor set up nearby which hardly looked like it would keep track of his vitals.

Oh God! The shelves were lined with organs and tissue sitting in clear glass jars, including a human sized heart. Three syringes lay on a metal tray and a notebook was open with messy handwriting and today's date. Mischa's hand began to tremble again her leg.

A blue sheet covered most of his torso with exception of his upper chest. She took a step closer to see if the boy was alright and breathing. The action occurred at a shallow, labored pace and his chest only rose a fraction of an inch. The blue sheet wasn't clean; it had red traces of red and brown right around his abdomen. A mixture of fear and curiosity propelled her fingers forward to peak at the boy's stomach. A large unhealed scar, crusty with dried blood, ran across his body nearly a foot long in its curved form. Three large Xs were drawn on his stomach and side. In the middle the word 'kidney' was scrawled in black ink. Bile rose up her throat, and she dropped the sheet. Why was no one here with this boy? Why was he marked with that word?