Toward a Secret Sky

“So many questions,” he admonished. He pulled a light blue shirt from the trunk and put it on. It looked like a service worker’s shirt. A patch over the pocket read “Kingussie Sanatorium.”


“Where did you get that?” I asked, ignoring his remark about questions, because it was all I had at the moment.

“Can’t tell you all my secrets,” he said.

As we walked through the cool mist, Gavin buttoned the shirt over his chest and headed toward the back loading dock. Once we reached the tan, dented door, he whipped an ID card out of his shirt pocket. He swiped it through a little black box, making the light on top turn silently from red to green. He pulled the door open, and stepped back so I could duck under his arm and enter.

It was dim and dingy, and I was more than happy to let Gavin take my hand and lead me. We walked through a locker room, down a short hall, and turned into an unmarked room. Hot steam blasted from unseen vents, filling the air with a dull clanging, like someone kicking a file cabinet. Gavin flipped a switch and florescent lights flickered to life with a mournful hum. We were in the furnace room.

Gavin let go of my hand and walked over to a huge, gray metal box. He lifted a plate off the side, exposing glowing coils.

“What are we doing?” I whispered.

“I’m going to pour the antidote over the heating element, it’s going to evaporate into a gas, and then get blown through all the vents by the central heating system,” he said, removing a small vial from his pocket.

“You can inhale an antidote?” I asked.

“Sure, just like you can inhale poisonous gas. This way, everyone in the hospital will get it at the same time. They should be cured rather quickly.”

“How quickly?” I said.

“Within ten minutes, I would think.”

He poured the entire contents of the vial onto the orange coils. The liquid started to hiss and bubble, but then everything shut down. The room dissolved into a dark silence.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The worst thing that possibly could,” he answered. “The electricity went out. If we don’t get it turned back on immediately, the antidote will just drip to the bottom of the furnace instead of evaporating, and we’ll lose it.”

“Is that all we have?” I asked, starting to panic.

“Yes,” he said. “They’re going to make more at Magnificat once we’re sure this works, but it’s all they gave me to start with.” He stood up. “I need to find the circuit breaker. I can see in the dark, so I can move faster on my own. Can you go wait in Jo’s room?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, slightly relieved. The bowels of the hospital were scary enough when the lights were on. I had no desire to run around them in total darkness.

“I’ll take you back to the main hallway, then you can find your way, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I remember which room she’s in.”

He took my hand again and led me out of the service section. Our palms rubbed together as we walked, the soft rhythm driving me to distraction. How could touching him in just one place completely consume my thoughts? We were on a mission to save Jo, and I could barely concentrate on anything but his skin. I had no idea passion could be strong enough to override everything else.

We emerged into the regular part of the hospital. The halls were dimly illuminated by exit signs at each end, and eerily empty.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, expecting commotion since the electricity was out.

“It’s the middle of the night, and this is a very small hospital,” he answered. “There’s probably only one nurse on duty, and she’s likely on the phone with the electric department. Most of the medical machines will have back-up battery systems, but I need to get the furnace back on right away.”

“Go,” I urged him.

“Be careful,” he said as he ducked back into the heavy metal doorway. “Go right to Jo’s room. Don’t stop and talk to anyone. We don’t know if the poison has spread to the people who work here.”

“You just said there’s no one here,” I reminded him. “I’ll be fine. Go!”

He hesitated, then leaned back out and quickly kissed me on the forehead. Seconds later, he flashed me a smile and disappeared.

As I walked down the hallway, my shoes squeaked on the stained linoleum floor. The sound was irritating, like nails on a chalkboard. I lifted up onto my tiptoes and hurried. I couldn’t wait to get out of the dark corridor and into Jo’s room.

I followed the room numbers as they ascended, past 118, 119, 120 . . . Jo was in room 129, so I was headed in the right direction. I rounded a corner and froze. A tall, dark figure of a man with his back to me loomed about twenty feet ahead. I hesitated. Should I try to casually walk past him, or turn around and try to find Gavin? Finding Gavin in the basement in the dark was probably impossible. I would just have to keep walking.

I clenched my teeth and my fists and started forward. I had figured out how to keep my shoes silent, and I was almost past him when he swung around.

“Maren!” It was Stuart.

I relaxed my shoulders. “Geez, Stuart,” I said. “You scared the crap out of me!”

I couldn’t see him very well in the light, but he looked tired and haggard. Worrying about Jo must have worn him out.

“What are you doing here?” he growled. I recoiled a little. I’d never heard Stuart use a sharp tone with anyone.

“I’m here to see Jo,” I stammered.

He leaned down toward me, and I saw he had thin, bloody scratches on his face. His eyes shone with a faraway look.

“Stuart? Are you okay?”

Without a word, he lunged at me. As I writhed to get away, he reached out and clawed at my neck. His fingernails left burning trails on my skin. I ran as fast as I could, but I could hear him right behind me. I wasn’t a fast runner to begin with, and I knew he’d catch up to me in seconds. I had to get out of the hallway.

I threw myself against a closed door, hoping it wasn’t locked. It swung open, and I darted inside. I pivoted and tried to close and lock the door behind me, but the pneumatic hinges caught it and made it swing super slow. Stuart had plenty of room to force his arm into the opening, and when he did, he thrust the door open. I stumbled backward and crashed into a metal table.

We were in an operating room. I noticed a tray of surgical instruments to my left. Before I could see anything else, coarse hands curled around my neck.

Stuart was choking me.

The pressure on my throat was unbearable. I pulled at his hands, but there was no releasing them. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes watered.

I reached out with my left hand and fumbled with the tray. I felt clamps and scissors, but when my fingers grazed against a small metal hammer, I knew I had a chance. I grabbed it and smashed it into Stuart’s temple as hard as I could.

Heather Maclean's books