Chapter 6
The metal duct finally terminated in a heavy wire-mesh grate overlooking the hospital's dark, cavernous laundry sorting room. Clara pushed against the rusted mesh with her palms, putting all her remaining strength behind the shove. With a sharp metallic snap, the fasteners gave way, and she tumbled out onto a towering pile of clean, fluffy white towels stored in rolling canvas bins.
The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she immediately scrambled off the towels, clutching Leo tightly to her chest. The laundry room was vast, humid, and currently empty. The massive industrial washing machines hummed in a dull, rhythmic chorus, masking any noise she might have made during her clumsy landing.
Clara quickly assessed her surroundings. To her left, a set of double swinging doors led directly out into the concrete service alley where delivery trucks unloaded linens at dawn. To her right, a stairwell marked with a glowing red exit sign offered an alternate route deeper into the facility. She chose the double doors. Freedom was out there, just beyond the heavy rubber flaps.
As she crept toward the exit, the heavy steel fire door at the far end of the laundry room creaked open. Clara froze in her tracks, casting her eyes about for a place to hide. The room was mostly open space, save for the towering metal sorting racks and the canvas laundry bins. Without hesitation, she dove behind a massive rolling cart filled with heavy woolen blankets, pulling the fabric over herself and Leo to create a makeshift blind.
Through a tiny gap in the dark grey blankets, she watched two security guards enter the room, flashlights sweeping across the concrete floor in erratic, blinding arcs. Their heavy boots echoed loudly off the tiled walls, a rhythmic march of impending doom.
"The perimeter doors are all locked down," one guard reported into his shoulder radio, his voice crackling with static. "She's not in the north wing. Check the service exits."
"Copy that. Sterling wants her found before the shift change at six. No exceptions," the second guard replied, stopping just a few feet away from Clara’s hiding spot.
Clara held her breath, her chest aching for oxygen. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying silently that Leo wouldn't wake up and cry. Every second stretched into an eternity. She could hear the heavy breathing of the guard, smell the coffee on his breath, feel the vibration of his boots against the concrete floor.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the opposite side of the room—a stack of metal hangers had tipped over, clattering loudly against the tile. Both guards spun around, instantly raising their flashlights toward the noise.
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"Over there!" one shouted, sprinting across the room toward the fallen hangers.
Clara didn't waste a single heartbeat. She slipped out from behind the blankets, keeping low to the ground, and sprinted toward the double doors. Her bare feet slapped against the damp concrete as she pushed through the rubber flaps and burst out into the cool, crisp air of the pre-dawn service alley.
