Following the Trail

We crept into building #25 quietly in the early hours of the morning; the guy who lived in there didn't seem to be home today, as the door wasn't blocked like it normally was. Still, we skirted around his living quarters on the second floor, not wanting to disturb his living space. Not much had changed here, it was still a very emotionally-charged environment, blanketed by sadness and fifty years worth of pigeon shit.

We reached the basement last, shining our flashlights over the rotting suits still hanging on a rack, and over old moldering trunks of patient belongings. Then we heard someone coming down the stairs. I squeezed between an open door and the wall with my friend, and watched a flashlight float down the hall, into the room, pause, and back out. Was it the guy who lives there? Was it a cop? We sure didn't stick around to find out!

Months later, we bolstered ourselves to move into uncharted territory again at this hospital. Building #74 was out in the open and easily visible from the rest of the hospital, so with some planning and lots of luck we were able to squeeze into an opening we spotted earlier, and followed the path to the electroshock room...