Page 64 of No Quarter

“A quiet night is a good night as I used to say to my colleagues when I had my first placement,” Doctor Whitmore said.

“I feel the same at the police station,” Sam said, scratching his blond head and yawning. “But I have to say, until recently, every night is a quiet one in Buford.”

They kept walking and entered the dining hall. The tables and chairs stared back, empty and unnerving.

“Do you really think the killer might come back tonight?” the doctor asked. “It seems very risky.”

“If he’s escalating, he’ll get reckless. He won’t be able to help himself. For now, we’ll just have to keep our guard up,” Valerie said. “And hope that this serial killer is finally starting to lose control.”

As they walked through the dark and silent building, Doctor Whitmore could feel his heart racing with excitement. There was something thrilling about walking around in a group at night. It reminded him of the detective shows he loved as a kid.

“I think we’ve got the upper hand,” Sam said as they left the dining hall.

“What makes you say that?” asked Valerie.

“We know he’s coming. He doesn’t know we’re waiting for him,” Sam said. “And we have Elmwood.”

“What do you mean ‘we have Elmwood’?” the doctor asked.

“It seems to me,” Sam explained. “That unlike a lot of killers, we know the one place he wants to keep coming back to.”

“Unless he kills an ex-patient like Agatha Mitchell outside again,” Valerie said, her voice grim.

“Oh yeah, sorry, forget what I said,” Sam replied, sounding apologetic.

Valerie felt bad for stepping on his toes.

“No, Sam, you’re right,” Valerie said. “We do have the advantage of knowing there’s a good chance he’ll come back to Elmwood. And if he does, we’ll be here.”

“Pardon me, but I think I have to go to the bathroom,” Doctor Whitmore said.

“No problem, Doctor,” Valerie answered. “But stay alert. And shout if you see anything.”

With a nod, Doctor Whitmore headed off down the hallway toward the bathroom. He turned down one corridor, walked to the end of it, and then another. The farther he walked from Valerie and Sam, the more he felt the walls of Elmwood closing in on him, like a threat.

There was something in the air, an ominous foreboding that all was not right.

He tried to shake it off, telling himself that he had nothing to fear, but the doubts remained.

As he walked along a hallway nearing a bathroom door, he thought he heard something behind him. He spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of what it was. But there was nothing there.

Calm down, he thought.You’re just scaring yourself.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shadowy figure leaped out from a closet door to the side of him and struck him across the head with something hard.

Doctor Whitmore felt blood seeping from the wound as he crashed to the ground. He tried to scream, but he was fighting against blacking out.

Panicked, he tried to get up, but everything around him was spinning and hazy. Desperately, he tried to call for help or find his phone, but it was all in vain. He wasn’t thinking straight.

As Doctor Whitmore lay there on the cold floor of Elmwood, battered and afraid, a voice of clarity came to him:Move!

It was a survival instinct. He managed to steady himself, and as his attacker stood over him and the blood dripped over one of his own eyes, Doctor Whitmore reached out and struck a large decorative plant pot with his leg. Its presence was meant to soothe patients, but now it’s only purpose was to save Doctor Whitmore’s life. It clattered over, alerting others to his presence.The doctor could hear footsteps receding as someone sprinted away from behind him as he clawed his way along the hallway, back the way he came.

When he reached the corner, he was able to let out a shout.

Quickly, the footsteps of Valerie and Sam came running around the corner.

“Doctor Whitmore!” Sam shouted, catching the doctor as he nearly fainted.

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