Her breath labored as she did the same. Hair hung in her face and clung to her neck; the heavy fringe across her forehead grew hot and damp with perspiration that quickly chilled in the cold air. She counted the rows of beds as she passed through them. The first one against the wall with the doors, the second where she had been, a third one beyond that, then a fourth ... Four rows of beds that reached far into the dark ahead of her just like they reached behind her. An expanse as immense as it was empty, and no sign that anyone else had ever been here except for her. That could very well be the truth — it wasn't as if she remembered other people. But maybe that was better than having company. Awful things could lurk in the dark. Or the day.

A shiver knifed through her, drawing her flesh up with it. She went as fast as she could go. Her right hand slapped a little too loudly against the floor. The smack of it echoing through the ward like a pistol shot. She paused, holding her breath as she listened, tensing at what might come out of the shadows to investigate the new noises in its territory.

Only the sound of her heartbeat flooded her ears. She moved on. Ten more beds until she reached the doors. Nine, eight, seven, the doors clearer now. Six, five, four, her muscles straining even through the effects of the silver medicine. Three, two, one, thank God, they really were doors, huge doors with one half-circle window over each. The glass was stained in places with the images of stars, backlit by distant light outside the ward. She blinked at the unexpected fancifulness in an otherwise stark space, then kept going until she reached her destination.

Warm air hushed through the gap under the doors. Not much warmer than that in the ward, but warm enough to make her frozen fingers tingle with sudden life. She slid one of her hands up the nearest door, then the other. Her body straightened as slowly as an old, rusty hinge as she rose on her knees. She clutched the heavy handle, shuddering at the frigid metal. It creaked a little thanks to her efforts, but nothing more. She grabbed it with her other hand, and then allowed herself a trembling rest against the doors.

The small break proved a mistake. Fatigue crashed down over her, the weight of it crushing her momentum. She yanked feebly on the handle anyway. It had to turn, that was what handles did, they turned and they opened and they let people out, they let them escape.

This one didn't. She dropped her head, sick with frustration, and didn't hold back the sob that came to her now.

Light. She blinked rapidly, unable to believe what she saw. Light was leaking under the doors, buttery and warm. Someone was coming. Footsteps raced towards the ward. Her heart slammed against her chest as she stared in stark horror at the growing light. She couldn't stop staring, she would stare until she was caught, stare until she was dead.

She let go of the handle like it was a live coal. Her legs screamed as she pivoted around on her knees. The bed, she'd have to hide under the nearest bed and not make a sound. She scrambled for it as quickly as she could manage without making noise, without giving herself away, but it wasn't fast enough. One of the door handles creaked behind her. She stilled, waiting for the door to fall open and the light to reveal all. Waiting for whoever would be standing in that light. She craned her neck until she could just see the doors from the corner of an eye. A sickly-sweet scent rolled through the gap, making her stomach flip with nausea. She knew that smell, somehow.

The handle turned down a quarter of the way to the floor. It flexed back up. Up, down, up, down, up down. The door was locked. It bounced back into its original position, as if the person on the other side had suddenly let go of it. The light wavered, then died. The footsteps scampered away.

As soon as things quieted again, she slipped under the bed. She passed through to the other side and didn't stop until she got under its neighbor. It wouldn't hide her from anyone determined to find her, but she could wait here until she was sure that person wouldn't come back. Then she could look for another exit or something that would unlock those doors.

The gap at the bottom remained dark after a few breaths. She slowly made her way back in that direction, sliding from her hiding place into the open spot between both beds. She sat on the floor, back against the bed whose safety she'd just left, and breathed. It was easier to catch her breath here. Being beneath a bed felt like being buried in a grave. She tilted her head into the mattress, letting it cradle her weary neck.

Light again. This time it glowed not just through the gap, but in the windows above it. Closer and closer, bright and brighter, faster and faster. The footsteps had returned, too. Louder, quicker. She dropped to her stomach, with a grunt of pain as the air whooshed out of her lungs. There was no time to crawl. She rolled towards the bed by the door. The metal frame slammed her square in the spine and across half of her body. Her injuries woke with a renewed vengeance, one that the silvery medicine couldn't contain. She bit the inside of her lip hard and tasted blood. But it was better than having rolled into the bed frame with her face. Breaking her nose would have made keeping quiet impossible.

The footsteps grew so loud that they overtook the sound of her own breathing. Then they stopped. Another sound came, one jangling and metallic. Keys, those sounded like keys. She plastered a hand over her mouth. The least sound couldn't escape, not if she was to have a chance at ... at something. What could she protect herself with if this person came for her? Just what? Her eyes flicked in the half-dark, searching for something. There, on the table between the beds, a lamp. Dark metal, bronze perhaps. That would be heavy enough to hurt anyone who wanted to hurt her.

Creeeee-aaak.

Light poured in, a flood of gold that washed away the silver moonlight. The doors had opened. Steady footsteps followed.