Page 25 of Dark Goodbye

Normally, we lose about twenty in a year at the most. How was this slipping through the cracks? How did no one see that all these people were being fed to the fires? Once more, I comb through the records, this time, noting dynamic, gender, and station.

My blood turns to ice as a pattern emerges. All of them, save five, are female betas from Sector One — the place where no one would really miss them or even care. Besides, being from the so-called ‘Death District,’ no one would expect foul play.

The tainted air and living conditions make it a fertile breeding ground for disease. Not to mention the inter-district violence. But after the revolution, all of that should have gotten better. I personally oversaw some of the relief efforts.

More than that, the deaths that occurred in Sector One were never put on record. A mortuararium would come down, sign off that there was no foul play, and they would bury their dead. Whenever they came into the hospital, they typically made a full recovery.

However, despite the potential evidence I’m looking at, I can be a rational man. Four months isn’t enough time to say for sure, especially when we are still dealing with the blowback of a revolution. It’s still suspicious though, and once I get the files from the nurses, I’ll have a better idea of what I’m dealing with. If it were more men than women, it would make more sense… It’s the sheer number of women that has me the most concerned.

Opening a side drawer, I slide the files inside, leaving Ladria’s out, and lock it back. Typically, I hide my key somewhere safe in the room, but with this, I want to take no chances. If my theory is right and Malus is indeed a serial killer, this may be the key piece of evidence that protects me if the unthinkable happens.

I’m not a stupid man. I know what awaits me if my actions are discovered, but I cannot allow the crimes against Ladria to go unanswered. And if Malus is indeed guilty of these other murders, then my torture will just be the icing on the cake. No one can fault me. No one. Not even Jaxxon who now resides in his tower, untouchable, unfettered by the need for revenge.

Pocketing the key, I grab Ladria’s folder and slip it into the inner lab coat pocket before slipping out of my office. Thankfully, with all nurses either hard at work on the files or doing their rounds, I’m nearly invisible as I walk past the desk and over to the supply closet.

All that’s left to grab are the tubes and bags with intravenous fluids that will keep Malus alive until I allow him more solid nutrients. With one last glance, I slip back into the hallway and make my way to the elevator. There’s got to be another way in and out that doesn’t involve me running into anyone.

That will be the next hurdle after I see to Malus. Adrenaline pumps through my body as the elevator plummets, taking me closer and closer to my end goal. Sweat beads along the top of my forehead and my fingers tremble with excitement. Somehow the thought of taking a life, when I was both trained and swore to hold it sacred, is heady, and that thought alone sobers me up.

Perhaps this is what called to Malus. The very idea of playing god, of deciding who lives and who dies. As the doors open, I pause at the entrance, my heart and mind warring with each other. Once I take this step, there’s no way back. Once I’ve stolen Malus’s life, I cannot remove that stain.

Is it worth it? Is it worth it to dance within these decadent flames and hope I don’t get burnt? Easing my hand back into my inner lab coat pocket, I pull out Ladria’s file and flip to the information page and stare at her image. For her, I would endure the wrath of all the gods.

For her, damnation is worth it.

I return the file and make my way to the hidden door, taking in a deep breath as I slip into the inky blackness. Once I shut it behind me, the small amount of dimness I had is extinguished, leaving me in total darkness to rival True Night.

Sliding my hand along the way, I pick my way through the debris and stop when I come to an odd square I don’t recall being there before. How have I come in and out of this space and never noticed it? Indulging for a moment, I allow my fingers to brush against this foreign object, memorizing the jagged edges and sharp lines.

The tactile sensation is the same one that illuminated the room I stashed Malus in. Could it be that it’s a light switch? Of all the insane things.

Holding my breath, I finger the switch, forcing it upwards. Again, that strange hum fills the space, forcing my hair on end as the energetic particles gather and bounce about. Just like with the room, I’m convinced it’s not going to work, but then, the lights in the hall passage crackle to life.

The illumination isn’t strong, but it’s enough. Things that have been hidden from me all my life suddenly jump out in stark relief. The scene is nothing less than a horror story with abandoned gurneys and hover chairs strewn about, all of them gathering both rust and decay.

There aren’t any bones to speak of, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t hidden around. Each nook and shadowed cranny loom out, as if something is about to crawl from the corners. Shaking my head, I dispel those foolish notions. Nothing in here can harm me.

Still though… Walking over toward doors I never knew existed, I run my fingers along the weathered wood and tile before craning my neck to better listen to what’s inside. Nothing. Everything is as still as a grave with only my breath shattering the silence.

Pushing on the one closest to me, I observe a similar room to the one Malus is in. Nothing spectacular or noteworthy. One by one, I open all the doors, making sure there are no surprises for me, but each is empty. That is, until I get to the last door on the left, the one right across from Malus.

Shove as hard as I might, the door barely budges; however, the small bit it does move allows a shaft of bright light inside, far too golden to be medical lights. This must be an outside door. Filing it away in the back of my mind, I leave it alone and walk across the hall.

Though Malus’s eyes are still shut, the snoring has stopped. His breathing is no longer deep and even. Instead, it’s hard, punctuated, seeking. Every time he draws in a breath, scenting the air, his agitation grows. No longer needing to be silent, I shut the cell door behind me and empty my pockets on the nearby counter.

“Where am I?” The drug-laced question slithers between us, taking on a life, a form of its own.

“Why, you’re at the hospital. You never left.” I glance over at Malus, watching as his face moves.

“Am I sick?” His voice cracks under the weight of the fear and discomfort swirling off of him.

“Yes, actually. Just not in the way you think.”

“My jaw hurts.” Each word is slurred, pained, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to talk.

“Again, I’m very much well aware. Perhaps if you stop talking, the pain will diminish.”

“D-Davix? Is that you?”