Visiting hours are over

I take a step towards the entrance of the hospital, but then turn around and reach for the double barrel leaning against the passenger seat.

I look around to see if anyone is watching me -- when I know very well that there isn't.

In an effort to appease my growing fear I place the double barrel beside the hinge to the right of the double doors, just in case --

When I step into the hospital I immediately have to wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  Purple and orange blobs momentarily block my view before the blackness eats away at them and I begin to see the outline of objects in the dim light.

It's unusually quiet, but I try to negotiate a different way of thinking as I make my way down the hall.  All my senses are on high alert as I wade through the unknown hoping for a pleasant sigh of relief when I do come up for air.  At the end of the hall is a staircase, and so I make my way through the doors and venture upwards.

I try not to listen to the millions of questions running through my mind...

Why is no one here to greet me?

Why is it so silent?

Where are all the people?

I continue to tip toe up the cement stairs, grateful that my sneakers keep me silent.  I begin to rationalize that since there are no short waive radios; that perhaps the people who are here are unaware of my coming.

When I reach the second floor doors there is a paper sign with the words "3rd floor" on them and an arrow that points towards the wall.  For reasons unknown, I reach out and enter into the second floor hallway.

A moment later I hear murmuring and so I hide in the shadows.  I sit and try to make out what the murmurs could mean.  It's evident that they are coming from a room, and so I gather up my courage and walk towards what sounds like faint moans.  There's more light seeping through this hallway, so it's easier to make out door frames.  A moment or so later I am in front of a closed door that seems to be housing the sounds.  They're still faint from where I'm standing, and part of me thinks it's a miracle to have even heard them from where I was.  I take a deep breath, reach out my hand, and slowly twist the door handle to the left with stealth silence.

Through the crack I can see nothing except pure darkness.  I open the door a bit more, and see bodies lying on various beds.  Some of them moving -- some of them not.

"Help me," one of them says from the back of the room. 

My mind races as I try to rationalize what I'm seeing, but before I can make a decision -- it is made for me.  For as I exhale and am about to take another breath that would somehow garner my thoughts one way or the other, a hand is gently placed on my right shoulder.

And so, I freeze.