Simon Toyne - The Key

The main hospital building stretched along the full length of the street. At one end it joined the stone walls of the original building and at the other a covered walkway connected it to a smaller stone building that resembled a castle. This was the old psychiatric wing where the receptionist had said his mother was being kept.

A car swished past and he used the hiss of its tyres to mask his own splashing steps as he dashed to the other side of the street. The ground-floor windows were all boarded up along with a large doorway that had once served as the entrance. High up on the side of the building a scaffold platform jutted out. It was the sort of thing workmen used to hoist materials on to, but there were no ropes hanging down that might help him gain access, they were all curled up and secured to the scaffold poles. The windows to the side of the platform were mostly dark — but not all. Two glowed with light — one in the middle of the row and another at the very end — both on the fourth floor. The hospital receptionist had said his mother was being kept in room 410. His money was on the middle window. He continued to gulp air, relaxing slightly now he had at least located his mother.

Then he felt the vibration.

At first he thought it was thunder, rolling down from the clouds, but when the ground started to shake and a sound like trains in a subway rumbled up from beneath his feet, he realized what it was.

He stepped away from the nearest building, his legs unsteady on the quivering ground as the earthquake took hold of the city. He stopped in the middle of the road, away from any falling debris, his legs planted apart, and looked back up at the fourth-floor window. The shaking increased and the rumbling was joined by the high-pitched wail of hundreds of car and burglar alarms as the quake triggered them. Then, just as the noise and the tremors reached their peak, all the lights in the city went out.

Inside the hospital the sudden darkness was followed by frightened screams that echoed down the corridor from the main building.

Ulvi had managed to jam himself in a doorway and was hanging on to the edge of a wall that was trying to shake itself free from his grasp. There was a crash from way down the hallway as something heavy fell over in one of the partially renovated wards. Outside, car alarms shrieked through the streets like a beast on the loose. To Ulvi it was the sound of opportunity.

Once the earthquake ended, everyone would be busy and disorientated. No one would come running if an emergency alarm suddenly sounded all the way over here. And accidents happened all the time during quakes — falling masonry, broken glass, electricity sparking from severed cables. It was perfect. He just needed to get rid of the cop. He held on until the building finally shook itself still. The distant screaming seemed louder in the sudden quiet and it had been joined by the wail of alarms from various pieces of medical equipment throughout the building.

Ahead of him Ulvi saw the figure of the cop let go of a doorframe and step into the dust-filled corridor. He was looking towards a soft glow of light at the end of the corridor where most of the noise was coming from. The emergency power was clearly working in the main building, but the corridor remained dark.

‘You think we should check out the lights?’ Ulvi said, moving up the corridor towards the light. ‘Someone must be able to get the power back on for us.’

‘No,’ the cop stepped ahead of him. ‘You stay here and check the rooms. Make sure no one’s hurt.’

Ulvi stopped and watched the cop march forward and disappear round the corner. He smiled. He had never seen him go into the room that contained the monk and had gambled on this small observation to give him his chance. If the cop had avoided it in daylight there was no way he would want to go in now in pitch darkness. Ulvi’s offer to go and check what was happening with the lights had been calculated to make the cop volunteer instead. And he had, so now Ulvi was alone. He took the room keys from his pocket and used the light from his mobile phone to find the one with 410 stamped on it.

Ladies first, he thought, then moved through the darkness towards Kathryn Mann’s door.

Gabriel stared up at the hospital building, listening to the sounds of distressed patients mingling with the thousand other fractured noises rising from the stunned city.

The main wing was illuminated from within by the dim orange glow of emergency lights, but the satellite buildings were dark. He fixed his eye on the square of black window that he believed was his mother’s room, willing her to come to it so he could see she was OK. Behind him a car turned into the street, its headlights on full. Gabriel sank further into the shadows, his eyes still fixed on the dark window on the fourth floor. The car drew closer and swept round the corner, washing light across the darkened building ahead. In that moment Gabriel saw someone standing in the window on the fourth floor. It was too dark to see much but he had seen the white slash of a priest’s collar and that was enough to set his own alarm ringing. He could have been there to check on the patients. The room might not even be his mother’s. But he wasn’t going to take the chance. The Citadel had tried to silence him earlier and he knew they were hunting Liv.

He leaped forward and sprinted across the rubble-strewn road towards the underground car park, all thoughts of caution and personal safety gone from his mind. He had to get to his mother, fast.

The barrier flashed past as he powered down the ramp, his way ahead illuminated by the fitful flash of hazard lights from all the cars parked there. He crashed through the doors to the stairs and launched himself up the first flight three at a time, grabbing the rail to slingshot himself round the curve. Already his legs felt tired. The sprint to the hospital had burned up most of his energy and he was running on fumes and fear. In his mind he pictured the scene that might be unfolding in his mother’s room: the priest, turning away from the window, making his way over to the bed. The hospital was in chaos. She would be easy to subdue. No one would hear. The priest could take his time if he chose to, if that was why he was there.

Gabriel reached the ground floor and heaved himself up, using his arms to drag himself along the banister. His legs were burning, his breath ragged. It had taken him about ten seconds to make it up the first flight, but he was already slowing. Four more flights and then a dash across the connecting bridge and into the dark of the old psyche ward. His mother was a minute away at best.

One minute. Probably a little more.

Much too long.

Kathryn Mann watched the priest from the fragile fort of her bed as though he was a bear walking across her room. He was talking to her but her hearing was too damaged and the high-pitched whine of fear too loud in her head for her to make out what he was saying. His face was fixed in a kindly expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He might be saying things to calm her after the quake, making sure she was all right — but she felt terrified.

She doubted she would have the strength to fight him or get away if it came to that. He looked so solid and strong and the quake had shaken her up, knocking her already fragile equilibrium. She felt weak and sick. The room was swimming, he was shifting in and out of focus as he moved closer to the bed. She felt a jolt as he shoved the bed back against the wall from where it had been shaken. Then he came round the side, still talking. He leaned forward, reaching for something behind her head and she caught snatches of what he was saying:

‘… Don’t worry. Soon be over…’