We stared at the building from the bottom of a rounded staircase, the first of two that would take us to the entrance.

  “Can you usually walk right up to an insane asylum?” Mel asked.

  “I think so. I don’t know. I’ve only seen them in movies.”

  “I feel like it should be more secure than this.”

  “It’s not supposed to resemble a prison,” Dion cut in.

  Mel and I both looked over at him. This was the first time I’d heard him sound remotely angry.

  “They’re crazy people. Would they even know the difference?” Mel continued, giving zero fucks about his prickly attitude.

  “You just said it yourself. They’re people. Right now, my girl is inside with them and I would like to find her. Can we do that?” He veered around Mel and hurried up the stairs.

  Note to self: Mental institutions were not to be discussed with Dion.

  Nearly jogging to catch up with him, I hopped over the metal rail that divided each side of the stairs and blocked his path.

  “What are you doing?” he spluttered, almost tripping over himself in an attempt not to run me down with his body.

  “Stopping you from charging ahead. Again.”

  “You need to stick with us,” Mel stated, coming up on his other side.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “At this rate he’s going to get one or all of us killed by triggering something,” she reprimanded with a scowl.

  Guess she knew he was the one that caused the whole fiasco when she’d been tied to the chair. His eyes darted between the two of us, mouth turning down in a slight frown.

  “I’m sorry,” he intoned with a sigh. “I just want to get to Morrigan.”

  “And we want to find our friends. If we work together, we can accomplish both a lot safer and faster,” Mel reasoned.

  “Your apology isn’t necessary, but you staying alive is,” I tacked on a little gentler.

  “Ya’ll are right. My bad. I got in my feelings.”

  “Stop apologizing,” I huffed, moving out of his way while shaking my head.

  I just knew that somewhere in the world, tides were turning. Hell was beginning to ice over. I don’t know why I was so inclined to keep him alive and his morale up, but I kept doing it without hesitation. When had I become the nice one?

  The three of us walked the rest of the way together. When we reached the entryway, I cupped my hands around my face and tried to peer inside. Mel did the same with the other door.

  “You see anything?”

  “No dice.” She shook her head and straightened.

  I looked to the sky and sighed. Of course, we wouldn’t be able to see in. Nothing could ever be simple here. At times I thought they made this too easy, and then others I felt as if they’d thought of every minor inconvenience possible.

  I grabbed the door handle and looked at the two of them.

  “Ready?”

  “Let’s do it,” Mel replied resolutely.

  “I’m good.”

  Here we go.

  I pulled open the door and stepped inside, holding it for them to enter behind me. It wasn’t an overly large lobby. On either side of the entryway were two large fiscus plants. To the far right was a massive fish-tank full of colorful salt-water fish. In the center of the speckled marble floor was a large I and S monogram. It would’ve been an ordinary reception area if not for the jester chilling behind the front desk waiting for us.

  “Well, look what the devil’s dragged in,” she enthused, leaning forward in her chair.

  I wasn’t sure whether to stare at her or the man she had down on all fours like a dog, complete with a spiked collar and nylon leash she was holding the end of.

  “That’s the clown from the school, right?” Mel asked in a low voice.

  “She’s a jester,” Dion corrected in the same pitch.

  Was that seriously important right now? I’d called this crazy bitch both. It didn’t make a difference to me what she was. All I knew for sure was that she should’ve been a patient here.

  “Visiting hours are almost over. I’d be quick and, in a hurry, if I were you,” she lilted.

  Her sing-song voice grated on raw nerves. Looping the dog leash around her wrist, she stood from the leather chair and tapped a bloodied glove on an open book.

  “Come, come. Get your name tags and sign yourselves in.”

  I glanced towards a set of metal double doors on the far side of the room. An intercom was positioned on the wall beside them.

  I doubted we could ignore her and go right on through. This nutcase was the only one who could grant access. We had no choice but to play along.

  “She has to let us in,” I remarked, walking over to the reception desk.

  Her human dog cocked his head and looked up at me. His brown eyes were surprisingly alert, like he was fully aware of what was happening.

  I hoped this was their kink. Otherwise, seeing a grown man act like a pet was mildly disturbing. I looked away from him and focused on the brunette. She was way bloodier than she’d been back in the school media room. I had a few guesses as to why.

  “Sign, sign away,” she offered me a pen, smiling almost warmly.

  I accepted it gingerly, half expecting her to leap over the desk to try and maim me with the ballpoint.

  “Aren’t you going to ask who were here to see?” Mel questioned, signing her name once I finished.

  “I already knew the question, and already had the answer.”

  “You’re really into character, huh?” Dion eyed her warily.

  Her smile instantly a vanished, a curled lip completely rearranging her face. The blonde man at her side looked up at her, his disheveled hair falling backward. With a low whine, he edged closer to her side.

  “The one in this room that has a role to play, is you Mr.” She’d taken on a venomous tone, but as soon as she got done giving that mystifying omen, she was right back to her usual smiling self.

  “Your turn now,” she tittered, showing all her teeth when she smiled at him.

  Dion took the pen from Mel and wrote his name in the book beneath ours.

  “Good work. Now put these on and don’t take them off until you’re done.” She placed three name tags on the desk’s overhead rim.

  I lifted mine and studied it.

  06-16-2026

  That was weird. A few days off, okay. But three years?

  “Why is the date wrong?”

  “Stay a while longer and you’ll know all you need to know.”

  Right. I couldn’t expect to get a straightforward answer from her of all people. I shouldn’t have wasted the breath.

  “Can we go now?” Mel asked irritably.

  “Someone’s eager.” The girl reached down and flipped a switch, causing the double doors to buzz and swing open.

  “Hurry, hurry.”

  I took a few steps back, keeping my eyes on her until I felt it was safe enough to turn around.

  “Have fun!” she called just as the double doors shut behind us.

  We were in an empty corridor. It wasn’t exceptionally long and almost entirely lit up by fluorescent lights.

  “It’s quiet,” I noted.

  “Too quiet,” Dion seconded.

  Nothing about this place seemed asylum-ish to me. Mel walked over to the bulletin board hanging on the right wall. It was covered in various papers and some pamphlets. She read the bottom of one out loud.

  “Real treatment. Insane results.” She scoffed. “Isn’t that an insensitive pun?”

  Before I could reply, the overhead lights began to flicker, eventually shutting off altogether. When they came back on their output was significantly dimmer.

  “What--?”

  A sound system clicked on, and the jester’s voice carried up and down the empty corridor a second later.

  “The doctor has become a bit tangled up. Mr. Wendigo is now prepping his patient for operation. Visitors are advised to proceed with caution.”

  The speaker clicked off, leaving us in silence once again. I repeated what she’d said in my head, brow furrowing as I tried to decipher what she’d meant.

  “Is that our riddle?” Mel asked.

  “That didn’t sound like a riddle to me,” Dion replied.

  “Yeah, I don’t know what most of that meant. Proceeding with caution is a given, so let’s start with that.”

  We began moving down the hall, and a peculiar smell started becoming more apparent, lingering in the chilled air. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

  We passed by a doorway, nothing inside of it but some vending machines and round tables. At the end of the hall was a set of stairs going up. A few feet in front of them was another pair of double doors, these ones chained shut.

  Off to the side was an elevator with a sign that read wheelchair accessible. An out of order warning was taped on top of it and the elevator’s floor counter was cracked. Using it clearly wasn’t an option but even if we could I wouldn’t have gotten on there. I didn’t trust it.

  I approached the staircase, staring upward to try and determine what was above us, but I couldn’t see anything.

  “How many floors do you think this place has?”

  “Four?” Mel guessed.

  “Plus, a basement. You know there’s always a basement,” Dion added.

  “Well, we’re starting with wherever these go.”

  I placed my left boot on the first tiled stair and took a steadying mental breath. This building wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. If we had to make rounds around the whole place, it was going to take at least two hours.

  There were supposedly people here that mattered to us and there wasn’t any way of knowing what they may have been dealing with while we handled our own issues. I knew better than to wish upon hope, but that was all I could do for now.

  Moving up the steps, the peculiar smell grew stronger, taking on a nastier underlying stench. I wrinkled my nose, trying not to inhale too deeply.

  “What do you think that is?” Dion questioned.

  “I have no idea. It’s not death, though. That’s a good thing.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Know what?”

  “That it isn’t death?”

  “…just do,” I replied dismissively.

  Honestly, I couldn’t remember where I learned such a stench or why it stuck with me, but I could always recognize it.

  “I think it smells like shit,” Mel stated.

  I laughed despite the situation.

  The landing at the top of the stairs led to another metal door with an intercom beside it. Off to the right of them was the next row of steps, thoroughly blocked off. Stepping up to the door’s glass block window, I peered through and checked out the area on the other side.

  The lighting was even worse, flickering as if it was going to lose functionality any second now. I could still make out another reception desk to the right. The left had a glow coming from it, the kind a television would create.

  There was a large pillar obstructing my view to know for sure what was there. I relayed what I saw to Dion and Mel, giving the doorhandle a tug just to see if it would open. It didn’t, not until I reached over and hit the button on the intercom.

  There was a soft whir and then a buzz like the one from downstairs as we were granted access. I led us through and was immediately struck by how much stronger the odor was here.

  “Damn. That’s terrible,” Dion choked back a cough.

  “It’s shit,” Mel reaffirmed, sounding completely convinced.

  I didn’t know if that were the case—but it was gross. I swallowed and blinked a few times as I moved forward. The reception area was empty. Passing the pillar on the left I was able to see I’d been right about what was creating the glow.

  A flat screen was mounted on the wall, depicting an infomercial for a new community. I couldn’t hear much of what was being said due to the volume being so low, but the name Hells Pointe came across in subtitles. I didn’t pay much attention to the actual television. I was more curious about the people watching it and the women standing in the corner.

  Three rows of plastic chairs—twelve altogether--were filled with five individuals. In the left upper corner were two nurses in the skimpiest uniforms I’d ever seen, both donning similar masks. They barely glanced our way, as if they couldn’t care less that we were there.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Dion asked, staring at the small group of people.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Even our voices weren’t enough to snap them out of their trance.

  “Maybe they’re patients,” Mel suggested.

  I shrugged and kept moving.

  They weren’t concerned about us and I had no invested interest in them. A little up ahead, just where the wall began for another corridor was a large square window. I moved to the left side of the hall and crept up on it, trying not to focus on the smell.

  Mel and Dion mirrored my movement, dropping into a single file line. I peeked through the window, taking a second to register what I was seeing inside. There was a man hanging from the ceiling upside down. Judging by his professional attire, this was the doctor.

  Someone had removed a large portion of his face, leaving only remnants of chin. The rest of him was tangled in what looked like electrical wire. He couldn’t have been dead too long. His arms were still dangling loosely above his head.

  “The doctor has become a bit tangled up.”

  Now what crazy had said was making a little sense. She hadn’t given us a riddle—but a hint.

  “There’s a dead guy,” I informed Dion and Mel as I inched forward.

  “Thought you said the smell wasn’t death?” Dion responded sardonically.

  I ignored that for the simple fact he wasn’t throwing up or freaking out yet. That was progress. He could’ve been in shock, but I’d still take that over a mental breakdown.

  The light continued to flicker, which drew my attention to something on the opposite wall, just a few feet ahead of us where the smell seemed to be the strongest.

  “I…I think you were right Mel.”

  She edged up closer to me so that she could get a better look.

  “No fucking way,” Dion muttered.

  “I told you it was shit,” Mel stated matter-of-factly.

  “Why do you sound proud?” Dion questioned. “No, who wiped they feces on the wall?”

  “Probably a crazy person,” Mel retorted sarcastically.

  “Hey,” I interjected before they could start picking at each other. “It says something.”

  “So, we’re using shit to spell things now? Okay,” Dion mumbled to himself.

  “Piggy…piggy?” I read quietly, not entirely sure that’s what was written. It was hard to make out all the letters since the font wasn’t exactly legible, but I was sure there were two g’s.

  “I don’t understand what that would mean,” Mel said with a sigh.

  Yeah. I was thrown too.

  Maybe it meant nothing. Someone did smear their fecal matter on the wall to write it, after all. Coming to the end of the hall, we took a right to move around the corner.

  As we did, something clanged from another room up ahead, followed by what sounded like a hiss of air.

  “Someone’s up there,” Mel whispered.

  I nodded, continuing to move forward.

  Light was spilling out of the room, adding some visibility to the hallway. I went to the right as we drew closer. I didn’t want to draw immediate attention to us by making a spectacle of myself in the doorway. Thankfully, there wasn’t any more shit on the walls.

  “Be careful,” Dion warned me.

  That wasn’t necessary, but I appreciated the sentiment. I glanced back at him and gave a thumbs up. There was a feeling in my gut that told me whatever was in this room wasn’t anything good. I took a small breath and cautiously peered around the doorframe.

  There’s the doctor’s face.

  I noticed straight away that the giant of a man dressed in a white coat that was nearly bursting at the seams had turned the stolen flesh into an accessory.

  Mr. Wendigo, I presumed.

  Half-propped on an examination bed was a girl with long dreadlocks and a glitzy septum piercing.

  This had to be Morrigan.

  She was knocked out cold with an oxygen mask secured over her mouth and nose. There were two large syringes sticking out of her right arm. As I stood peering in, the man inserted another on the left, causing blood to well up and dribble onto the floor.

  He started to turn away and I dipped back around the corner, exhaling as quietly as I could.

  “What is it?” Mel tapped my arm and mouthed.

  I made a point not to look at Dion.

  How did I explain that his girlfriend was currently passed out in a room with a man sporting another guy’s face? Oh, and she had needles of something sticking out of her skinny arms? How did we even get her out of this?

  Holding a finger up to signal them to wait, I risked a peek back into the room and saw the man approaching Morrigan with a scalpel.

  Shit.

  All the progress Dion just made was about to go right down the drain, but I couldn’t not, not tell him.

  “I think it’s your girlfriend,” I begrudgingly divulged.

  He reared his head back like I’d hit him, hurrying around me and Mel.

  “Mo?” he questioned as soon as he reached the doorway.

  I saw the second it dawned on him that there was another person in the room.

  “Yo, get the fuck away from her!”

  He rushed inside without any hesitation. I pushed off the wall and followed in after him. Doing exactly as I expected, he went right for the girl in the chair, disregarding the man with a scalpel now coming for him.

  I gave the guy a wide berth, partially circling around so that I was behind him. Before he could turn and face me, I charged forward and jumped onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his beefy neck.

  “Help get her up,” I commanded Mel.

  “Fuck her!” she yelled back at me.

  “Mel!” I grit out, positioning my forearm under Mr. Wendigo’s chin.