Chapter 11 – Wrong Day To Visit

The glass doors of the hospital slid open with a sick, dragging sound.

Alyssa stepped through first, boots tapping the tile, arms crossed tight under the weight of her soaked hoodie. Chloe followed, holding a crumpled bouquet of white carnations like it might keep her safe. Jack shuffled in last, tall and awkward, eyes already darting to the exits.

The lobby was a mess.

Chairs overturned. Posters half-torn. A long smear of something dark trailed across the floor and vanished behind the front desk.

Flashing emergency lights strobed faint red against the walls, and a security alarm somewhere deep in the building chirped like a dying bird.

“Okay,” Jack muttered. “Did we just walk into a zombie movie?”

“Something’s wrong,” Chloe said quietly.

“You think?” Alyssa muttered, scanning the room. The air stank – not of antiseptic and bleach like it should have, but of metal. Smoke. Burnt… something.

No staff. No nurses. Just silence punctuated by far-off murmurs and the high whine of a malfunctioning elevator.

Chloe hugged the flowers tighter. “Maybe we should—”

“We’re already here,” Alyssa said. “She’s on the eighth floor. Let’s just make it quick.”

Jack hesitated. “Shouldn’t we ask someone? See if visitors are even allowed?”

Alyssa shot him a look. “Do you see anyone?”

He didn’t.

So they moved.

Past a half-shattered vending machine. Past a wheelchair tipped sideways, one wheel still slowly spinning. Jack almost tripped over it.

As they reached the elevator bank, Chloe hit the button for the eighth floor.

Ding.

The elevator opened.

Inside, the floor was wet. A long black streak curved across the steel like something had been dragged out.

Alyssa stepped in first. “In or out, guys.”

Jack winced but followed. Chloe stepped in last. The doors closed with a metallic groan.

As they rose, the lights flickered.

Somewhere above, something scraped along the elevator shaft.

A sharp, dragging sound – like claws on metal.

Jack looked up.

“I really don’t like this building.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a wimp.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not a horror movie cliché.”

“You’re right,” she said flatly. “I’m not the one standing under the flickering light with a girl’s name and no muscle tone.”

He looked wounded. “Hey—”

The elevator jolted.

They all flinched.

Then it stopped with a shudder at Level 8.

Ding.

The doors opened.

The hallway ahead was dim, lit by flickering fluorescents and the orange glow of late afternoon sun bleeding in through a window at the far end.

No nurses. No sound.

Just silence.

And Liz’s room – 805 – just ten steps away.

…………………

Chloe reached the door first. She hesitated, one hand raised as if to knock, but didn’t.

Alyssa pushed past her gently, grumbling, “She’s in a coma, Clo. Not like she’s gonna say ‘come in.’”

Jack lingered behind them, glancing down the hallway. Still no nurses. No staff. Just a faint buzzing from a dying light overhead.

Alyssa turned the handle and stepped inside.

The room was dim, the blinds only half-open. The quiet hum of medical equipment filled the space – oxygen, IV drip, heart monitor – the regular, mechanical reassurance that Liz was still alive.

Elizabeth Jaeger lay still in the hospital bed. Thin. Pale. Wires ran from her chest and wrists. Her hair was tucked gently behind one ear, though it had grown long and unruly since they last saw her. Her lips were slightly parted, like she might wake up at any second and say something snarky.

Chloe swallowed hard. “She looks older.”

Alyssa said nothing at first. She walked to the side of the bed, dropping her backpack onto the floor with a soft thud. Then, more gently than anyone expected, she took Liz’s cold hand in hers.

“We came, loser,” she said. “Like we promised.”

Chloe moved to the other side and placed the crushed bouquet in the plastic vase already by the window. She fussed with it, trying to arrange it like it mattered.

Jack stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, rocking on his heels. “Is she… has there been any change?”

“No,” Chloe whispered. “Same as always. They don’t know what’s wrong.”

Alyssa snorted. “Doctors don’t know shit. They said it was catatonia. Then brain trauma. Then maybe seizures. She doesn’t have seizures. We’ve seen seizures.”

Chloe nodded. “She’s stuck somewhere. I think she can hear us, though.”

“You always say that,” Alyssa muttered, but didn’t let go of Liz’s hand.

The room fell quiet again, just the soft beeping of the monitor and the distant sound of something metallic rattling through the pipes.

Chloe sat down beside the bed. “I started writing down everything that’s happened since you went under. Just in case. I figured… if you wake up, you might want to know. Even if it’s just stupid stuff.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Like Chloe getting a C on that chem quiz.”

“I had COVID.”

“Still counts.”

Jack took a cautious step closer. “Liz… I, um… I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner. I just… I didn’t know what to say.”

Silence.

Then Alyssa said flatly, “You’re saying it now. That’s what matters.”

She looked down at Liz again. Her grip on Liz’s hand tightened. “Don’t you dare die. We’re all still pissed at you.”

Chloe smiled faintly. “You mean we miss you.”

“I said what I said.”

Another moment passed.

Jack shifted awkwardly near the foot of the bed, then reached into his hoodie pocket.

“I, uh… brought something too,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled out a small, folded paper crane – blue and slightly crushed, its wings bent like it had weathered a storm in his pocket.

“She made this for me. Last year. When my dog died.”

The room went still. Even Alyssa looked up.

“She told me it’d protect me. Said it was stupid, but that if I kept it close, maybe it’d help.”

He cleared his throat, eyes down.

“I’ve carried it every day since.”

Gently, Jack placed the crane on the side table next to Liz’s monitor, nudging it so it sat facing her.

“I figured… if anything could reach her, maybe it’s something she made.”

For a moment, none of them spoke. The only sound was the steady beep of Liz’s heart monitor.

Then the fluorescent light above them flickered hard – not once, but twice.

And from the vent near the ceiling, a soft clicking sound echoed through the room.

Click. Click. Click.

Alyssa looked up. “Did anyone else hear that?”

Jack moved toward the vent. “Maybe it’s the AC?”

“It’s thirty degrees out,” Chloe said, standing slowly. “And that’s not air. That’s—”

The clicking stopped.

For now.

…………………

Click.

Clickclickclick.

The sound returned – sharper this time, like claws tapping metal.

Jack flinched back from the vent. “Okay. Not the AC.”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes, moving to stand beside him. “Is that a rat?”

“No,” Chloe said softly. “Too fast.”

The vent was old – rusted around the edges, with a fine layer of hospital dust caked along the grille. Nothing big should’ve been able to get in. But something was moving behind it. Something quick.

A shadow darted past the slats.

Alyssa took a step back. “Screw this. Where’s the nurse call button?”

She turned, hit the red switch on the wall – nothing. No beep. No buzz.

The monitor beep beside Liz’s bed began to spike. Her heart rate, steady just moments before, started climbing.

Beep. Beep. Beep-beep-beep.

Jack’s voice cracked. “Guys… what’s happening?”

Something thudded against the inside of the vent.

All three jumped.

Then – silence.

Too much silence. The hospital was supposed to be full of life: muffled voices, rolling carts, squeaking shoes, the distant hum of machines. Now it felt like a mausoleum.

“I don’t like this,” Chloe whispered. She reached out, placing a protective hand on Liz’s blanket-covered leg. “Something’s wrong.”

A soft hiss echoed from the vent – like breath. Not mechanical. Not plumbing.

A presence.

Jack backed away fast, knocking over a tray of supplies. “Nope. I’m out. This is horror movie bullshit. We need to go.”

The overhead lights flickered again. This time, they didn’t come back on.

For half a second, the room was lit only by the pulse of Liz’s monitor and the faint red glow of the emergency backup battery near the bed.

That’s when they saw it.

Eyes.

Two gleaming orange orbs watching them from inside the vent.

Chloe gasped. Alyssa pulled her close. “Back to the door. Now.”

Jack reached for the door handle—

Locked.

“What the hell?!” he shouted, yanking harder. “It won’t open!”

The vent shuddered.

A claw — long, black, bone-thin — slid between the slats. Scraped once. Then curled inward like it was testing for space.

Scrrrrraaaatch.

Chloe’s breath hitched. “That’s not a rat.”

“No,” Alyssa said, eyes locked on the vent. “That’s… I don’t know what THAT is.”

A burst of static exploded through the wall intercom – followed by a voice.

Max’s voice.

Distant. Distorted.

“—lockdown—don’t open any—keep away from—”

Silence.

Jack stared at the vent in horror. “It’s coming out. What do we do?”

Alyssa grabbed the IV pole like a bat. “We fight.”

Chloe looked at Liz, then at the vent. “No. We protect her.”

Jack grabbed a chair. “If it comes out, I swear—”

Crack!

The vent burst open, the metal grille clanging against the floor.

Something began to crawl out.

Its body was long. Too long. Like it had too many joints. Pale flesh wrapped in something that looked like melted leather. Spidery limbs, razor-tipped. It didn’t walk so much as climb, head twitching in short jerks.

Its face was almost human.

Almost.

It opened its mouth.

Rows of teeth — far too many.

It screamed.

Chloe moved first.

While Jack backed toward the door and Alyssa raised the IV pole like a weapon, Chloe stepped forward – toward Liz.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she whispered.

She stood in front of Liz’s bed, arms out, shielding her comatose friend. Her whole body trembled, but she didn’t move away.

“You want someone?” she said, louder now. “Take me. Not her.”

Alyssa’s voice cracked from the other side. “Clo—what are you doing?!”

Chloe didn’t answer.

She held her ground – not because she wasn’t afraid, but because she was. And that didn’t matter.

The demon paused.

Just for a second.

And that second was enough.

Max would later swear that was the moment the thing hesitated – the reason Liz wasn’t torn apart before they arrived. Because one girl stood up and said no.

…………………

The sky had bruised into a low, stormy grey. Rain threatened again, thin and bitter, but it couldn’t wash away the blood on Max’s hands.

He leaned against the stairwell door, catching his breath. Victor sat slumped nearby, his breathing steadying after the shift – still more beast than man around the edges. Dan stood watch at the railing, the faint radiance under his skin pulsing slow and steady like a heartbeat returning to calm.

No one spoke.

Not until the scream.

High. Human. Frantic.

It came from below. Echoed through the stairwell like glass shattering in a church.

Max flinched – not just from the sound, but the feeling that accompanied it.

A sick, cold certainty.

Then it hit him.

A scream shattered the silence – high-pitched, terrified, unmistakably human.

Max froze.

And then the thought hit him like a punch to the gut.

“...Oh shit.”

The world tilted. His heart stuttered in his chest. Not fear – not yet. Guilt.

“What is it?” Dan asked, already stepping closer.

Max didn’t answer right away. He was staring at nothing, eyes wide, jaw tight.

“Max?” Victor pressed, voice firmer now.

Max swallowed hard. “Liz… she was supposed to have visitors today.”

Victor frowned. “You mean—”

“Alyssa. Chloe. Her best friends. And Jack – the boyfriend. They're all sixteen.” His voice dropped. “They’ve been visiting once a month. I told them to keep it going. To talk to her. Make her feel normal.”

Dan’s face fell. “They’re here now?”

Max nodded slowly, as if the act of confirming it made it worse.

“I forgot,” he said. The words tasted like blood. “I forgot they were coming today. I told them Liz was in Room 805. I told them it was safe.”

Another scream – closer this time, raw and panicked.

Max’s hands clenched into fists. “If they’re hurt… if I let her down again—”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” Victor said firmly, already moving. “Let’s fix it.”

Max didn’t argue. He turned, bolted down the stairs like he could outrun the shame clawing its way up his spine.

Chloe. Alyssa. Jack.

Not soldiers. Not monsters.

Just kids.

And he had left them in a war zone.

…………………

The eighth floor was chaos.

Not loud chaos – not anymore. The alarms had stopped. The smoke was thin. But the silence that replaced it was worse.

Max burst through the stairwell door like a battering ram, boots skidding slightly on the wet tile. The corridor ahead was half-lit — a few emergency lights still flickering, casting the walls in pulses of orange and red. Water from the sprinkler system dripped steadily onto the floor. Everything smelled like bleach, blood, and ozone.

“805,” Max said, already moving. “Go.”

Victor followed like a shadow – massive, silent, tense. Dan trailed behind, scanning everything, his golden aura flickering slightly in response to unseen tension.

The hallway was littered with debris – a toppled wheelchair, a metal tray on its side, sheets smeared with blood or worse. One of the nurses' carts had been shredded like it had gone through a woodchipper.

They rounded the corner.

Room 805 was open.

Barely.

The door hung askew on broken hinges, as if something huge had slammed it inward. Deep gouges lined the frame — four long claw marks, too wide for human hands.

Max froze. “No. No, no—”

He rushed forward, slamming the door open the rest of the way.

The room was dim, lit only by the flashing monitors beside Liz’s bed – and those monitors were going haywire. Her vitals were steady, but the machines beeped erratically, their displays glitching with static and flickers of code that had no business being there.

The girls were huddled in the corner.

Alyssa was crouched in front, arms spread, shielding Chloe behind her like a human shield. Her face was streaked with tears but her jaw was clenched, eyes wild. Blood was smeared across her cheek – not hers, not yet.

Chloe was crying softly. Jack had positioned himself in front of both, holding the IV stand like a baseball bat.

The window at the far end of the room was shattered. Glass glittered across the floor like frost. Something had come through it – or gone out.

A growl echoed from somewhere above.

Low. Wet. Hungry.

Max’s head snapped up.

The vent near the ceiling above Liz’s bed was open – twisted outward, like something massive had forced its way in.

Victor’s eyes swept the room. He nodded at the teens. “Alive. Good.”

Dan stepped past him, calmer. “Scared, but strong. Everyone okay?”

Alyssa didn’t lower her arms. “What the hell was that thing?!”

Chloe sobbed, clinging to her twin’s arm. “It wasn’t human – it had teeth—”

Jack just shook his head. “It came through the ceiling. Or the wall. I don’t know. I didn’t see it clearly. But it looked at Liz. And then us.”

Max crossed the room in two strides. “Did it touch her?”

“No,” Alyssa said. “It was going to. But something…stopped it.”

Victor growled under his breath. “Or someone scared it off.”

Jack pointed to the IV machine. “It freaked out when the monitor flashed red. Then it—ran. Back into the vent.”

Max looked at Liz and frowned. “Monitor flash... could’ve been interference.” But his voice lacked conviction.

She was still asleep.

Still breathing.

Still untouched.

But the air above her was wrong – like static before a storm, like things dark and unholy had fought and neither had won.

Dan moved to the girls, kneeling down. His glow pulsed faintly. “It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

Jack blurted out.“Uh—guys? That guy’s glowing. Like, actually glowing.”

Chloe looked at him — blinked. “You’re… shining.”

Dan offered a smile. “Yeah. Long story.”

Max turned to Victor. “Whatever that thing was, it was looking for her.”

Victor nodded grimly. “But it wasn’t ready to fight.”

Alyssa finally stood, pulling Chloe up with her. “What the hell is going on?”

Max met her gaze. “You’re about to find out.”

He turned to the vent above them – the twisted metal, the lingering scent of something burned and rotted – and narrowed his eyes.

They weren’t out of time.

The clock had already struck zero.