Patience

The institutional blue and white of the walls were painted with the faecal matter and filth of the escaping inmates. Hand prints and blood splatter further decorated the corridors of the once bright home for the disturbed. The singular wheel chair left abandoned had long since been devoid of its occupant since the alarms had sounded and the inmates had carried off any who who had been unable to escape.

Only two rooms remained closed, having been secured by the old fashioned method of lock and key rather than electronic key pads. These were the two oldest wards for patients who were considered permanent residents. Alone in their chambers they had listened to the sounds and screams of the riot outside. The cries of the victims of the massed criminally insane had echoed around the building, yet the two remaining inmates sat unmoving isolated from the chaos.

Catatonic, they sat eyes fixed on the doors of their cells, they had been inactive and devoid of movement prior to the emergency, little seemed to have changed. Their thoughts, however, were busy.

Thoughts that they shared with each other, “Peace at last,” came the message from 21B,

“Yes,” thought 21A, “It didn’t take as long as we had anticipated, do you think anyone remains?”

“You know what I think, my dear.”

The patient in 21A almost smiled.

When the emergency services arrived days later they found the remaining two patients alive, but malnourished. They had soiled themselves but were considered safe enough to be moved to another facility. The ambulance staff had carefully placed them in wheelchairs and took them out to the secure ambulance where with an armed escort they began their journey out of the asylum.

The following police broke hard as the ambulance turned violently into the marsh that hemmed the road. Hastily the pair of them waded into the murk to check upon the driver, but he and the orderly in the passenger seat were dead. The former strangled by the latter, and the latter had crashed into the windscreen, her hands still stretched out to her victim.

Inside the ambulance the patients were remained strapped to their stretchers, seemingly unharmed. The two nurses, however, were slumped on the floor with syringes sticking out of their arms, apparently self administered.

Both officers looked aghast at the scene before them, before climbing in to check the vital signs of the patients. Officer Kirk checked the pulse of the first, a gaunt older man with greying hair, but with pale eyes. He reached to his radio, then paused, and slowly turned to face his partner. She too was standing straight, but flexing her shoulders.

“What do you think?” He asked in a clipped voice,

“You know what I think, 21B.”