Chapter 15 - The Endless Hallway
Mark froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared down the endless, repeating corridor of white doors. The fluorescent lights flickered once, twice, and then settled into a rhythmic, hypnotic hum that vibrated in the marrow of his bones. He looked from the little girl in the white dress to the empty plate in her small hands, every single memory of the fire, the basement, the tactical agents, and Clara dissolving into a fine gray dust inside his mind, replaced by an overwhelming, ancient sense of inevitability.
“I didn't forget,” Mark whispered, his voice completely devoid of resistance as he slowly sank to his knees on the polished wooden floorboards that had somehow replaced the white hospital tiles.
The girl in the white dress smiled, stepping closer and gently pushing the ceramic plate across the floor until it came to a soft stop against Mark’s trembling fingertips. Behind her, down the long hallway, the heavy deadbolted door of room four hundred and twelve began to unlock itself one latch at a time, accompanied by the familiar, muffled scratching sound from deep within the dark recess.
From the shadows behind him, a hand wearing a tattered security uniform and marked by a geometric forearm tattoo gently rested on Mark’s shoulder.
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“Welcome home, Mr. Reynolds,” a raspy voice whispered into his ear. “The next shift is about to begin.”
Mark bowed his head, reached out, and pulled the plate back toward the crack beneath the heavy wooden door, knowing with absolute, horrifying certainty that when the sun went down tomorrow, he would be the one sitting in the dark waiting for someone to slide him his dinner.
