Seven

Chapter 1

Autumns in New England never failed to distract Tim Petrazzi on his daily drive to work at the Crestwood Psychiatric Hospital, a mental institution that hovered between the border of the rolling hills of Massachusetts and its neighboring town, Donnely. It was a drive he had been making for the past two years as an orderly for the hospital, a job he was only able to get through his aunt's connections to upper management. 

Prior to that, Tim had served in the U.S. Army as a combat medic in Texas, but after six years and two one year long deployments, he figured that the military wasn't a life for him. Donnely was his home, and after both of his parents had passed away, he moved back with his older sister, Becca. They had an aunt and uncle in town, plus a few cousins scattered all over the state, but it was home. 

Tim didn't mind the drive out of town; the surrounding woods nearby were densely packed with elm, maple, pine, and sycamore trees that towered on both sides of the road, beckoning travelers to admire its seasonal beauty. Sadly, the town of Donnely did nothing to draw tourism, a fact that kept it rather isolated from other growing neighborhoods who were able to lure visitors into spending a weekend or two during the autumn. Donnely remained stagnant; the only grocery store in town seemed to be constantly filled with outdated items, and the local theater never played movies from the current era. Residents had to drive a few hours west to Pittsfield, a larger town near the New York border, for any major recretional fun or shopping. It didn't bother Tim though, he liked living in a small town. It was safer. Far away from the craziness of bigger cities. 

The roads heading towards Crestwood were narrow and riddled with a few potholes, many of which were aggravated over the years by snow plows trudging through the area during rough New England winters. There were no street lights to guide drivers to the hospital, only plastic reflectors and a faded yellow line separating the forest and asphalt. However, as a permanent third shift worker, Tim was familiar with the roads leading towards Crestwood's property, and he was confident enough to drive it blindfolded even at night.

Half an hour into the drive, Tim began seeing signs leading to the edge of the hospital. Since it was autumn, darkness fell much earlier, but Tim always made sure to leave when the sun was setting down behind the trees so that he could catch half an hour of New England's glorious autumn views. It was well worth leaving an hour or two early for work, even if it meant that he'd have to hang around somewhere to chill before clocking in. By the time he had reached Crestwood's boundaries, night was starting to settle and the woods would fade from oranges and reds to purplish muted colors before turning into a mass of towering black shapes. 

Tuning into his favorite hard rock radio station, Tim cranked up the volume to jam to the sounds of Alice in Chains. He focused on the roads and continued his nightly drive towards Crestwood. 

Like every other night, Tim arrived at the hospital grounds an hour and a half before his shift started at 9 o clock, so he drove over to one of the side roads that lead away from the hospital area and into an abandoned storage facility about two miles west from the main compound. The one-lane path was overgrown with weeds and brushes from lack of maintenance, but still accessible by car. Tim's borrowed truck trudged over the gravel to avoid some of the branches and trees that had fallen from previous storms. He thought of the anger his older sister, Becca, would unleash even if the tiniest scratch appeared on her truck. 

A quick glance at the dashboard reminded Tim that he had a little over an hour to relax by the old supply area. The road became uneven due to the loose rocks and branches that littered the path, and Tim decreased his speed down a notch to avoid hitting anything that would cause damage to the vehicle. The high-beams of his headlights had a long range, and as Tim neared his favorite spot to hang out and take long smoke breaks, he caught movement further down the road.

White.

It was the color that stood out to Tim. A figure about twenty feet away ran across the narrow road towards the supply building across the woods. It was fast, but Tim knew from its movements that it was a person. Because Crestwood was a mental institution, Tim groaned at the thought of having to cut his pre-shift activities to call security to the area in order to apprehend a wayward patient. Damn, now I've gotta chase this idiot, Tim thought to himself as he put his gear on park, and stepped out of the truck. 

"Wow. I've only got 45 minutes 'til my shift begins," he muttered as he walked towards the old supply building. 

Stopping, Tim called out to the figure he spotted moments before, "Hey, whoever's out there, you best come out before I call security!" He waited silently for a minute before grabbing his cell phone and scrolling down for security's number. 

Silence. The only sounds Tim heard were from the gentle swaying motions from the thick woods that circled the area. He moved towards the building where he was sure he'd seen the figure dash off to. Checking the doors to see if there had been any evidence of a break-in, Tim found nothing; the heavy chain lock was still wrapped around the metal handlebars of the front entrance. He walked over to the side door used for emergencies, using only the light from his cell phone as a makeshift flashlight. It too was locked, with no evidence of tampering. 

Tim scratched his head and gazed over to the edge of the woods around the property. Nothing. It was dark and difficult to see past the thick trunks of the trees that stretched endlessly into the deep forest. Even if someone was wearing white, Tim was sure he could spot their movement through the darkness, but he saw no one. Using his cell phone as a guide, he walked the perimeter of the building, and glanced through the double-paned windows. All he saw, besides the dust lining the glass, were old used mattresses and office furniture that were haphazardly placed inside. 

"Goddamnit. Now it's just 20 minutes before I've got to clock in," Tim groaned as he walked back to the truck and lit a cigarette. He spared another glance at the building before starting the vehicle to make his way back to the hospital. Before he left, he thought he saw a brief flash of white appear from the edge of the structure from his rear-view mirror, but it disappeared the further he drove from the place.

"The hell is that," he wondered, as he contemplated turning the truck around for another check of the area. However, since his shift was about to start, Tim decided that he'd put that thought aside and make sure to doublecheck the wards to confirm none of its residents were missing. Making his way out the old supply road, he headed to Crestwood's main building.