“I think they’re breaking in,” Morgan said, leaning out of the office door. “I think I heard glass breaking,”
“Okay…” Rita’s jaw was clenched and she was sweating as she tried to keep her leg still. “There’s a security door that closes over the stairway… The key pad is on the wall… Type…3-4-6-7 and it will activate.”
“Okay.” Morgan grabbed her hammer. “I’m going to get a cell phone too.”
Rita didn’t answer as Morgan left the room. She dashed over to the stairs to setup the door first. She typed in the code and heard a click as the light over the door turned red. A metal panel slid out from the wall and covered the regular door. There was another satisfying click as it locked into place.
Morgan waited. She couldn’t hear as much noise from upstairs now, but they would realize they couldn’t get down here soon enough. And then there would be an uproar. And then they would try something else…
Morgan went towards the operating room, adjusting her grip on the hammer. Cracking the door open, she peaked inside. Robert Holt’s cadaver was on the other side of the room, head caved in. But he dragged himself across the floor in slow, jerky movements. At the sound of her arrival, his head snapped around so he could look at her with his remaining eye.
He snarled. The knocking and growling resumed from the cold lockers as he started across the floor towards her.
Morgan took a step into the room, one eye on her phone on the counter and the other monitoring Holt’s progress across the room. She snatched up the phone, swung at his head before he could get too close, and ran back to the hall. The door slammed behind her and she slid the lock home.
Someone was pounding on the door from the stairs now. Morgan kept to the other side of the hall and tip-toed, not wanting to be heard. The men’s voices were loud enough to penetrate the metal sheet, but Morgan couldn’t make out the exact words. She was sure they were coming up with another plan.
“Okay, I got a phone,” Morgan said as she stepped back into the office.
“And the door?” Rita said through a gasp.
“Closed it. They’re on the other side. I don’t know what they’ll do next.”
“Call for help.”
“Okay.”
Morgan dialed 9-1-1 again and waited. The phone rang…and rang…and rang. After every fifth ring, an automated message played.
“Your call is very important. All operators are busy. Please stay on the line for the next available operator to assist you.”
But no one ever answered.
“No one is there,” Morgan whispered as tears began to cloud her vision.
“What?” Rita was pale and shaking, about to pass out.
“No one is there…. The people from the trees… they must have gotten to them already…”