Chapter 3

A Chapter by Sean H.

Brock pulled the gun out to make sure it was loaded, probably too late if it wasn’t. The growling got louder. He checked the magazine. It had four shots.
   Brock looked back up to the dog, and still it was in the corner. It was foaming at the mouth and starting directly towards Brock. “Whoa boy,” Brock said, calmly bringing up the pistol. He had a clear shot. He pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped out of the gun, lighting up the room with a flash. When it made contact with the dog, the dog faded away, the growling stopped, and the bullet hit the wall. What? It was standing right there, growling at me! He couldn’t believe it. I don’t know… I’ve been under stress. Must be gettin to me... or something...
   Brock thought about it for another moment or so then went back to eating his stew. I know it was right there.
   After he was finished he got up, searched the room for anything else he would need that he had missed. Finding nothing, he slung the bag over his shoulders and went through a door at the end of the room, opposite of where he'd come in. It was a bathroom, another dead end.
   Brock stepped up to one of the sinks and splashed some water on his face. He looked in the mirror. He saw a tired face, with stubble. There were dark rings under his eyes, and a full head of messy, red hair. After one more splash of water, he headed back for the door. As he did, he heard a whimpering, like a child's. He turned back around and began searching the bathroom, every stall, by the sinks.
   In the stall farthest from the door, on the wall opposite the door, sat a little girl on the floor, her arms crossed, resting on her knees hiding her face, bawling. Brock knelt down beside her. "Hey there, what's the matter?" he asked, softly.
   The girl looked up, with her tear stained face. She had long, wavy, dark brown hair, a pale face, and deep blue eyes. She looked to be maybe seven or eight years old. She sniffled. "There was a boom! Bad men are trying to get me! They yell a lot and have weapons. I... Everyone's dead!" she cried.
   Brock wiped the tears with his thumb and sat down against the wall beside her. "They're after me too. I've been running and hiding. I don't know who they are. We need to get outta here!"
   Still sniffling and sobbing the little girl asked, "How? They're everywhere, the bad men. They're at every way out!"
   Brock put a hand on here shoulder and reassured her, "We'll find a way. I promise. Now, what's your name?"
   She smiled a little and stopped with the sobbing. "A-Abby," she replied, unsure if she should tell Brock.
   Brock stood up and put out his hand. "Well, hey Abby. I'm Brock." Abby grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. He got on his knees with his back to her. "Here, hop on!"
   Abby clambered up onto his shoulders and held on tight as he stood up. She giggled with joy. "This is fun! I don't have to walk!" She seemed to have momentarily forgotten about everything else and was just enjoying her new friend.
   Brock checked over his shoulder to make sure she was holding on. "Alrighty! You ready to find a way out?" he asked playfully. She nodded her head. "Let's go!" Brock stretched his arm out in front of him like Superman and rushed out of the bathroom and back through the security door he'd come through before. He ran down the hall until he came to the T. Checking around the corner, he moved on down the hall. There's got to be something this way.
   The hall went on for quite a ways. On the walls were pictures of doctors, nurses, and surgeons that had worked in the ward over the years. They oldest one was all the way back from 1954. Damn, this joint's been running for a while. What was with the operation table, earlier? They're just 'sposed to keep the poor psycho b******s locked up, not play Operation with them.
   Brock craned his head around and looked at Abby. "How ya doin back there? Havin' a good time?" She giggled, obviously loving the ride, still not worrying about a thing. She let out a big yawn. "Hmmm... Someone seems a little tired," he teased, playfully. "You think we should find somewhere to sleep?"
   Abby was quiet for a minute, then, "Yes." Another yawn. She rubbed her eyes and said, "I'm sleepy."
   Brock continued roaming the halls looking for a safe place for them to rest. After another hour or so he found a small room with an inside lock. It was a little bit tight but it would do. There was a small desk in the corner stacked with paper work. In another corner tall, aluminum cabinet, painted green.
   Brock walked up to the cabinet and pulled it open. There were 6 shelves from top to bottom. The cabinet was filled with office supplies. Pens, pencils, paper, tape, and a ruler, nothing of use. Still riffling through the cabinet, he asked Abby, "Hey, we're gonna need some pillows and stuff! Will you be alright here while I go and see if I can find some?"
   Abby didn't answer. Brock turned around to see if she was alright. She was already asleep in the corner with her back against the wall. Well I guess she should be fine in here. After all, why would anyone look in here, in just some little office? I wonder if she can read? He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from the cabinet and wrote her a note in case she woke up. "Abby, Went to find you a pillow. Be back soon! Brock."
   Brock took one last look to make sure Abby was alright and then left and closed the door quietly behind him. He came back to the hallway. Now, where would they keep the pillows? He turned and continued the way him and Abby had been coming when they'd found the office. There were a lot more of the little offices. He searched every one just in case he would find something useful. Most of them had nothing but office supplies. In one there was a mattress in the corner and at the top lay a small pillow. Somebody's been staying late... He snatched up the pillow and went back to where he had left Abby. She was still sound asleep in the corner. He silently shut the door, locked it, and went over to the wall and slumped down beside Abby. He put the pillow behind her head.
   Brock realized he was pretty tired too. His eyes felt heavy. "We'll make it out of here tomorrow, Abby," he whispered. She stirred a little. I haven't seen any of the soldiers in a while... Wonder where they are. And he drifted to sleep with that thought on his mind.

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