Night 58: West Wing, North Hall 1-B

[promisedawhale.livejournal.com]

[from here]

"I wonder where everyone is at?" Brook paused a moment in his humming to question at the empty hallway.

He knew he'd left his room in a bit more of a rush than was his usual, but still, more patients were about at this time of night. It was strange to see not only so little of a number, but even stranger to have no one else passing him by. He thought back to what announcements had been made only to realize that only one had broadcasted. That short message at the beginning of the night: Code 1-8. The message had been mysterious enough to warrant an equally short comment from Brook to his guard about it, but the lacking response had caused Brook to let the man alone. Now though, he had the feeling that he should have pressed more about the reasoning.

His humming resumed as he took the usual left and tried not to worry even more for what might have been happening this evening. "Code 1-8" didn't sound good. Then again, in this place, nothing did.

[from here]

Comments

[lovecraftcomplex]

Talking to Ilia was weird. She was reasonable, and intelligent, but every once in a while she resembled maternal. Not the kind of maternal Rose's mom exhibited, but the apple-pie kind, the kind that didn't come from a store. Like John and his dad, but without separating confectioneries into affectionate and projectile weapons of parental affection.

They'd reached the door.

"Yes. I'm going out there now."

[to here]