Robin Cook - Shock

"I can't believe you're not worried about running into someone," Joanna said.

"Enough of this!" Deborah snapped. "Are you coming or not?"

"I'm coming," Joanna said reluctantly.

"What do you think we should take with us?"

"As little as possible," Joanna said. "Considering we might have to make a run for it. Maybe we should turn the car around so that at least we could get out of here fast if need be."

"I suppose that's not a bad idea," Deborah said.

She restarted the car, did a three-point turn, then backed back into the spot. "Happy?"

"Saying I was happy would be a gross exaggeration."

"Let's just take the flashlights, the access cards, and the disposable camera," Deborah said.

"Fine," Joanna said.

Deborah reached around and got the bag from the drugstore off the backseat. She gave one of the flashlights to Joanna and kept the other for herself, plus the disposable camera. "Ready?"

"I suppose," Joanna said without enthusiasm.

"Wait a minute," Deborah said. "I just got an idea."

Joanna rolled her eyes. If Deborah expected her to guess what was on her mind under the circumstances, she was insane.

"You don't want to know what my idea is?"

"Only if it's something like you think we should leave."

Deborah flashed Joanna an exasperated expression. "No, smart aleck! The first time we came out here to donate, we left our coats in a cloakroom. There were long white doctors' coats in there. I think we should borrow a couple. It will make us look more professional, especially me with this miniskirt."

Finally the women got out of the car and hurried up the walk. They were mildly surprised to find they needed an access card to get into the building, but like at the gate, the card worked fine. Inside they found the large reception area dark and deserted. They ducked into the cloakroom, and once the door was closed they turned on the lights.

Deborah's memory had served them well. There were plenty of white doctors' coats although few in small sizes. It took a few minutes to find two that were reasonably appropriate. They used the pockets for the flashlights, access cards, and disposable camera. Thus equipped, they turned out the light and reemerged into the reception area.

"I'll follow you," Joanna whispered.

Deborah nodded. She skirted the empty receptionist's desk and started down the darkened main corridor, passing the patients' changing room on the left, where a year and a half earlier they'd donned hospital johnnies prior to their egg-retrieval procedures. Deborah's destination was the first stairwell, and they made it without encountering anyone. The only noise they heard was their own footfalls.

Both breathed a sigh of relief once inside the stairwell. It felt safer than the open hallway, at least until they got down the three flights and opened the fire door into the dark, dank basement.

"No lights!" Deborah said. "It's a good thing we're prepared." She pulled out her flashlight and switched it on.

Joanna did the same, and the moment she shined it into the mausoleum-like basement hallway she caught her breath.

"What's the matter?" Deborah questioned.

"My God! Look at all the old, creepy hospital paraphernalia!" Joanna said. She shined the light over a profusion of disabled wooden wheelchairs, dented bedpans, and broken hospital furniture. An antiquated portable X-ray machine with a bulbous head stood out in Joanna's flashlight beam like a prop for an old Frankenstein movie.

"Didn't I mention this stuff?" Deborah asked.

"No!" Joanna said irritably.

"You don't have to get mad about it," Deborah said. "It seems that the whole rest of the building is filled with all sorts of gear from its previous mental-institution, TB-sanitarium days."

"It's spooky-looking," Joanna complained. "You could have at least prepared me for it."

"Sorry," Deborah said. "But Dr. Donaldson told us about it back when we first came out here. She said the place was a museum of sorts. Remember?"

"No!" Joanna said.

"Well, come on anyway," Deborah said. "It's just a bunch of trash." She led the way out into the corridor and headed north. Almost immediately the corridor twisted to the right and then turned again. Smaller arched openings led off on either side.

"Do you know where you are going?" Joanna questioned. She was following close behind Deborah.

"Not really," Deborah admitted. "The stairway we came down wasn't the one I came down earlier today. But I know we're at least going in the right direction."

"Why did I allow myself to be drawn into this?" Joanna mumbled just prior to letting out a muffled scream.

Deborah wheeled around and shined her light into Joanna's face. Joanna averted her gaze from the glare and got her hand between Deborah's light and her face. "Don't shine that thing in my eyes!"

"What the devil is the matter?" Deborah demanded angrily through clenched teeth once she'd seen Joanna was in one piece.

"A rat!" Joanna managed. "I saw an enormous rat with bright red eyes right over there behind that old desk."

"Jeez, Joanna!" Deborah complained. "Get a hold of yourself! This is supposed to be a clandestine exercise. We're trying to be stealthy here!"

"I'm sorry. I'm on edge in this junkyard dungeon. I can't help it."

"Well, pull yourself together. You scared me half to death." Deborah set out again but only managed a few more steps when Joanna reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to a stop.

"What now?" Deborah complained.

"I heard something behind us," Joanna said. She shined her light back the way they'd come. Expecting to see the rat again, she saw nothing but the junk they'd just passed. For the first time she looked up into the tangled mass of pipes and ducts.

"We're going to be here all night unless you cooperate," Deborah said.

"All right!" Joanna snapped back.

They walked for another five minutes along the twisting corridor before coming to a large, old-fashioned kitchen mixer attached to its own wheeled stand. It was covered with a layer of dust. A few assorted kitchen implements stuck out of the mixing bowl. The top of the mixer was tilted back and the beaters pointed off at a forty-five-degree angle.

"We must be getting close," Deborah said. "The door I'm looking for was on the other side of the kitchen, and we must be close to the kitchen now."

Rounding the next bend proved Deborah to be correct. Soon they were passing through the old kitchen. With the help of her flashlight Joanna gazed into the yawning, filthy ovens and the huge soapstone sinks. Overhead the light played against a line of blackened and dented pots and skillets hanging over the countertop.

"There it is," Deborah said. She pointed ahead. The stainless-steel door stood out in the dark, dingy environment as if it were glowing. Its polished surface reflected back most of Deborah's flashlight beam.

"You were certainly right when you described it as out of place down here," Joanna said.

The women moved over next to the door. Deborah placed her ear against it as she'd done earlier. "Same sounds as I heard before," she said. She then told Joanna to put her hand against the door.

"It's warm," Joanna said. She then handed Spencer Wingate's access card, which she'd been carrying, to Deborah.

"My guess is that it's somewhere close to ninety-eight point six degrees Fahrenheit," Deborah said. She took the card but did not run it through the card swipe.

"Well, are we going in or what?" Joanna asked. Deborah was just looking at the door.

"Of course we're going in," Deborah said. "I'm just trying to prepare myself for what we're going to find." Finally after taking a fortifying deep breath, she ran the card through the swipe. There was a slight delay followed by the sound of air escaping as if the space beyond was at a slightly higher pressure. Then the thick, heavy door began slowly to recede into the wall.