The door closed, cutting the thunder off on its mightiest note, but something else started to bother Kevin's senses – a sickening smell fo medication. Corridor before him was painted in brighter and more acid shades of green, and there were rows of seats along the walls. He obviously was in a hospital. In a very grim hospital.
Light here had sources – quietly buzzing luminescent lamps on the ceiling, half of which didn't function. The lamp in the end of the corridor was blinking, making the atmosphere even more sinister. Kevin cautiously walked forward. Near the doors to the wards there were big, dusty windows with some yellowish streaks. Same streaks were on the chapped artificial leather of the seats. Looking at them, Evanford was getting even stronger fits of nausea. His head spinning, Kevin wouldn't mind taking a seat or leaning onto something, but in a place like that he was disgusted by the very thought of touching anything. He gulped and made another few steps, but froze as he noticed some movement in a window he was passing by.
At a closer glance, he saw a profile of a person leaning over an operation table or a bed. When the silhouette straightened up, he was holding something in his hands. Then he took it to his face, sank his teeth into it and jerked it away – like an animal tearing pieces off a prey. Even through the muddy glass it was possible to see his jaws moving vigorously. Suddenly, as if feeling someone looking at him, a figure stopped and turned his head at Kevin, but in a few moments returned to whatever he was shewing. Evanford quickly moved forward.
He was already near the blinking lamp when a shadow flashed in a window nearby, and some creature sat on the glass, making it crunch. The creature started to crawl, scratching the glass with its claws and tapping its tail. Its moist leathery belly was turning the dry filth on the window into a gooey mess. Trying to avoid looking at it, Evanford quickened his pace and turned the corner.
He immediately noticed that there's a brighter light coming from a window about five meters away from him, and that it's cleaner than the others. Kevin came up closer and cautiously peeked in. There was nothing but a single bed standing in a neat white ward. A boy, the same one that Evanford recently saw on the Memory Screen, was half-lying on the pillow. He was writing something with a pencil. The boy raised his gaze, fixed it on Kevin for a few seconds, and turned away. The original watched his younger self for a couple more minutes: he just went on drawing. Evanford turned the knob and entered.
The ward was dirty and abandoned. There was a piece of paper lying on the soiled torn sheets. Young man turned it over with the tips of his fingers and saw a writing:
“I don't like it in here. I want to get out of here, the sooner the better.”
The second he finished reading something moved under the bed and quietly hissed:
“Prosss...”
Without losing a moment, Kevin dashed to the exit, but the door didn't budge. Long hands in white, red-stained sleeves stretched from under the bed; their fingers were wriggling like they didn't have bones. There was no time to ponder: Evanford stroke the glass with all his might with the book in his hands. It didn't just break, it shattered into a million pieces – there wasn't a single shard left in the frame. He threw the book outside to free his hands and climb out, but didn't have time to pick it up – boneless hands were already turning the knob, so there wasn't a single moment to spare. Kevin broke into a run.
He was rushing along the corridors, without slowing down even on the turns, even at risk of running into something even worse. Evanford had no idea what he's running away from, but horror was driving him forward, not leaving any chance to think or to glance back. Blood was pounding in his temples, smell of medication was driving him insane. Walls were swaying before his eyes. Human figures were pressing against the windows from inside the wards, scratching the glass and moaning:
“Proc... Pross... Pross-seeed-urre-eeh...”
Kevin didn't pay attention to anything any more, he was just moving his feet as quick as possible, trying to keep in the middle of the corridor. A wall appeared almost out of nowhere – he noticed it too late, and there was nowhere to turn anyway. Kevin made a few more steps and stopped. As long as there's nothing to lose, maybe he should at least take a final look at something that reduced him to a frightened fleeing animal? But the moment Evanford was about to turn around, long fingers grabbed his forearms. Kevin felt small needles piercing his skin. It seemed like his own bones started to soften, his legs turned to jelly. Semidarkness around instantly got thicker, and blackness devoured his consciousness completely.