The Clinic

                Three friends walked down the narrow alleyway that lead to the forgotten part of the city, just as the sun set behind them.  The modern concreate pavement had been replaced with what remained of the old Victorian cobblestone paths.  A cold autumn breeze traded places with the warmth of the fading sunlight.  Nearly all the street lights were broken, only a handful gave off enough light now the sky had darkened.  The three friends were led by Vickie, a small petite blonde woman, whom was a week away from turning twenty-one.  Behind her walked Peter and Sam.  Peter a chubby bearded man with scraggy black hair down to his shoulders and Sam a taller slimmer man with square spectacles.  The three of them had been friends throughout University and were headed to an old disused clinic to work on project toward their degree.

                “Have you ever been to this part of town,” asked Sam.

                “Are you kidding me, you’ve heard the stories about what happens down these alleyways,” Peter turned and replied to Sam.

                “Good job you have me with you,” Vickie giggled.  “Just stick together and we will be fine.”

                “And I guess you’ve been here before?”  Peter probed.

                “I may have been down these ends once or twice,” she winked at Peter, “now come on keep walking we are almost there.”

                Tall brick buildings rose over the alleyway.  They could hear the screams from an arguing couple in one of the apartments above.  Rain water accumulated either side of the alleyway, a small rat paddled through the water and past the group of friends.  The alleyway opened into a dark street.  The shops had been abandoned and boarded up, half of the apartments were occupied by jobless families struggling along the poverty line.  The other half used by prostitutes and drug users.

                “You know why the clinic closed down don’t you?” Peter asked.

                “You mean the vicar who helped abort those babies a month before their due date?” Vickie responded.

                “Ha-ha did you get one yourself?” Peter sniggered.

                “Screw you the vicar died about eight years ago you idiot,” she bit back.

                Rain had started to fall from the cloudy night sky.  All three put up their hoods to shield themselves from the rain.  Whilst they could escape it, a homeless man asleep in the doorway of a boarded up shop cold not.  He lay down in his thick ruined coat underneath a soggy broken cardboard box.  An empty whisky bottle rolled away from his unconscious body.

                The three crossed the road, stepping over several pot holes.  On the other side a small side street lead to the clinic.  A metal sign labelled ‘St. Marks Medical Clinic’ dangled from a bent post.  ‘Baby killers’ was sprayed across the wall behind the sign in red paint.  Vickie pulled out her camera and took a picture of the sign.  The street opened up into a small courtyard.  Several burnt out cars were left in a carpark.  In the middle of the carpark a group of homeless men huddled around a struggling fire.  Vickie took a picture of the men.  Within a chain linked fence next to the carpark was the clinic.  A large ‘keep out’ sign was tied to the fence.  The clinic itself was a single storey brick building.  The windows and doors had been bored up and graffiti was sprayed over the walls.

                Sam led the group through a hole in the fence.  Before Vickie walked through she stood back and took a picture of the clinic.  She wanted to capture as many images as possible.  There had been many rumours about strangle horrible things happening since it had been abandoned and she wanted proof the vicar’s spirit was still within the clinic.  A raven perched on a wooden bench, it squawked and rustled its feathers.  Vickie slowly approached the raven and knelt down.  She raised her camera ready to take her picture, but the raven was spooked.  It jumped from the bench and flew over her head.  It glided through the air between the droplets of rain and landed on the roof of the clinic.

                “Damn,” Vickie murmured to herself.  She stood up and noticed a black rose on the bench.  “Did either of you drop this rose?” Vickie picked it up.

                “Why would we do that?” Sam laughed.

                Vickie shrugged her shoulders and placed the rose in her bag.  From within the shadows of the clinic’s door way a silhouette of a girl appeared.  Sam and Peter stood still and looked at each other, neither wanted to approach the girl.

                “Why have you stopped?” Vickie stood beside them.

                “There’s someone in the doorway,” Sam pointed.

                Vickie looked closer and saw the silhouette, “it’s only a little girl you wimps,” she laughed.  Leaving those two behind, Vickie walked up to the entrance of the clinic.  The dark shadows of clinic still made it difficult to see the girl regardless of how close Vickie got.  Peter pulled his torch from his bag and shined it over Vickie’s head.  The scrawny girl dressed in tattered clothes was startled by the light and darted into the clinic.

                “Peter, you idiot,” Vickie screamed.

                “Sorry I though you would be able to see better,” Peter apologised.

                Vickie dropped her rucksack and ran inside the clinic to follow the girl.  Sam gently punched Peter in the arm and followed Vickie.  Peter casually walked behind and picked up Vickie’s bag to enter the clinic.  Inside Vickie had lost the girl, she walked around the small reception to look for a possible way the girl went.  Peter scanned his light throughout the reception.  It had been abandoned for a while.  Dust had settled along the large front desk.  There were several dead plants next to the shabby leather waiting chairs.  Pieces of paper were scattered across the frayed brown carpet.

                “This can’t be it there must be other ways to go, she can’t have just disappeared?” Vickie tried every door but each one was locked.

                “Try kicking one down,” Peter said.

                “If it’s locked then she couldn’t have walked through could she?” Vickie scorned.

                “Look you came here for a story so search through some of these cabinets perhaps there’s some important files,” Sam suggested.

                Reluctantly Vickie did as he said.  There was no clear sign of the girl, but after all it was not her they came for.  Using the light from Sam’s torch she opened the heavy steel filing cabinets and searched through hundreds of files, looking for any sign of the alleged abortions.

                “Hey give me your camera and I’ll take some photos of this place?” Sam asked.

                Vickie pulled the camera out of her pocket and threw it to Sam.  He slowly walked around the reception room and took pictures of the decaying furniture.  There was graffiti on the far wall, displaying similar to what was outside, ‘baby killers’ seemed a popular choice.  Between each click of the camera the room fell silent.  The pattering of the rain had halted and the wind had calmed.  Sam heard a footstep behind him, he quickly turned around but nothing was there, expect the dust floating through the dark room.

Sam walked to the door opposite the entrance from where he thought the sound came from.  He placed his hand on the door and it was unusually warm.  Sam moved his hand away and a print of his hand was left in the dust.  He took a few steps back and raised the camera to his eye to take a picture of the door.  He closed his right eye and focused with his left.  The camera clicked and took the picture, Sam lowered the camera and to his astonishment the door was wide open.

                “What the…” Sam stared down the pitch black hallway.

                “Did you manage to open the door?” Vickie rushed over to Sam.

                “Errrr…. No I….” Sam couldn’t get his words out.

                “Hello Sam,” Vickie clicked her fingers in front of Sam.

                “Sorry, I meant to say, the door, it opened by itself,” he regained his composure.

                “What,” Peter turned to them both.

                “The flash went off and the door was open, I don’t know what happened.”

                “Well don’t just stand there let’s go inside,” Vickie grabbed the torch from Sam and entered the eerie hallway.  She took one step into the hallway and the door slammed shut.  Vickie turned around and knocked on the door with her fist, “very funny guys.”

                There was no reply from either of them.  She knocked on the door again but nothing.  Light came from the keyhole.  Vickie knelt to look through and could not see anyone, in fact the sunlight shone through unbroken windows and an old lady sat behind the reception desk.  Vickie was confused, she had just walked through there how could it have changed?

                “Sam… Peter…” Vickie screamed.

                Her shriek caught the attention of the receptionist, she glanced over at Vickie and shushed her.  Vickie stepped back in fear.  She kept telling herself none of this was real, in a moment the guys would open the door.  She waited for ten minutes but there was no sign of them.  Vickie looked through the keyhole one final time but she could only see the receptionist.

                Vickie took a deep breath and turned to face the hallway.  It appeared to continue for as far as her eyes could see.  Circular steel lampshades hung from the ceiling with dim light bulbs.  These bulbs faded into the darkness near the far end of the hallway.  Her torch flicked and switched off, she hit it several times but it was dead.  Vickie took small cautious steps along the hallway.  White and black square tiles ran along the floor.  She had noticed foot prints on each white tile, to her disgust the footprints were in dried blood and to make matters worse they appeared to that of a child.  She looked up and along the colourless walls were trails of more blood.  Someone had wiped their bloodied fingers across the walls.  She inspected the wall closely and could see broken children’s finger nails embedded into the wall.

                A loud scream echoed suddenly in the hallway.  Vickie felt goose bumps run down her spine.  A light came on from a room in front of her to the right.  She slowly approached it and carefully moved her head around the door frame.  The sight before her was strange, either her eyes were strained or it was a vision before her, it did not appear to be real.  A distressed woman dressed in a hospital gown lay in a bed screaming with her wrists strapped to a steal bed.   The bottom of her gown was soaked in bright red blood, it dripped onto the floor into a large puddle.  Next to her stood a tall man in a white doctor’s coat, he wore a mask around his mouth and placed gloves over his hands.  From a tray, next to the bed he picked up a pair of forceps.  He stood in front of the women and places the forceps inside her.  He clasped them against a baby’s head and pulled the unborn child out. 

Vickie looked closer and could see the blood-soaked baby hang in the air.  The doctor walked to the other side of the room with the baby and placed it down on another smaller bed.  He dropped the forceps on the floor and picked up a blunt rusty knife from the bed.  The umbilical cord was still attached to the baby.  With no hesitation, the doctor sliced the cord.  Without securing ends he let it bleed, causing the woman to scream louder.  She reached out to the doctor but he ignored her, instead he raised the knife above the child.  It kicked its leg out and with one trust the doctor pieced the child’s chest.  Within moments it had stopped moving.

Vickie put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming, but the doctor turned and saw her.  He stared at her with his large dark green eyes.  Immediately she ran further down the hallway.  She ran into the darkness and into a dead end.  She searched along the wall for any sign of an escape but there was nothing.  She looked back up the hallway and watched in horror as the doctor stepped out from the room.  He sluggishly walked toward her.  Behind him each light switched off one by one.  Within a moment Vickie was shrouded in darkness.  The darkness was followed by silence, except for the sinister footsteps of the doctor. 

Just as the footsteps reached Vickie they stopped.  She did not know what to do, was he waiting for her or had he moved on?  She moved her foot forward and felt it brush up against something.  Vickie reached down and the light above her switched on.  A second black rose lay before her.  Another light switched on and Vickie found herself stood in the middle of a small operating theatre.  The walls were mouldy and the floor tiles cracked.  In the centre of the room was a hospital bed with blackened sheets.  A young girl lay on the bed.  Like the woman before she too was strapped to the bed.  A pale white nurse sat behind her and held an oxygen mask over her mouth.  Vickie found it disturbing that the nurse was clearly dead.  Her throat had been sliced open and dried blood surrounded the wound.  There was no colour in her eyes, and the skin beneath them was darkened.

The same doctor from before returned with forceps and stood before the girl.  Blood emptied from the girl and soaked the bottom of the bed.  Vickie walked closer and was horrified.  The girl had scars along her wrists from where she had previously cut herself.  She tried to break free from the restraints but the nurse forcefully held her down.  The doctor placed the forceps inside the girl and just like before pulled out an unborn child.  The girl coughed up blood.  The nurse removed the mask and the girl sat up.

“Stop him,” she cried.

Vickie stood back and vomited on the floor.  “It can’t be,” she muttered to herself.  She looked up and the girl and instantly recognised who was in the bed.  It was herself, what she had not told the others is that ten years ago she was a patient at the clinic.  

The doctor placed the child onto the small bed and picked up the knife.  He held it above the child’s chest.  Vickie ran to him and attempted to grab the knife from his hand.  He slapped her with his other hand and grabbed Vickie by her hair.  He slammed her head off the bed and threw her to the ground.  She was momentarily paralysed and could only watch on in horror.  The doctor plunged the knife into her child’s chest.  She saw blood drip from the small bed as the screams of the child faded.

                “Vickie, are you listening?” Peter asked.

                Vickie blinked her eyes and was confused.  Suddenly she was stood on the side of the street away from the clinic with Peter and Sam.  “Am I listening for what?”

“Did you get one yourself?” Peter repeated his sarcastic question.

Before Vickie could reply she paused.  She could not tell if what had just happened was real, had she been to the clinic before?  “Don’t be stupid,” She tried to laugh it off.

“Come on guys,” Sam shouted from across the road.

Unsure of the events that had just unfolded Vickie continued to the clinic with Peter and Sam.