Nothing to See Here
(Originally written for round 2 of the NYC Midnight 1,000-word Flash Fiction Challenge 2020. Requirements of this round were to write a thriller taking place in a convention center, and I had to incorporate a fire alarm.)
After five days living in the convention center, Farhad began to suspect something was awry. On the eighth day, he knew for sure. The tenth day was the day they took his son.
The food provided to the refugees was edible, but not much else could be said about it. Bathing facilities, beds, and many other basic needs were in short supply.
Farhad figured there must be close to 12,000 people living in the center. The Fire Marshal’s plaque insisted on no more than 7,500 visitors.
Oddly enough, access to medical care was seemingly plentiful. Farhad figured this was good, because many of those who had escaped the fires were still dealing with the after-effects, himself included. He had inhaled a lot of smoke while fleeing with his son and grandchildren from the shanty town they called home.
Being an older man with a persistent cough, Farhad figured it wouldn’t be long before his turn to see a doctor. However, after five days living in this hell, he noticed a troubling pattern. Nobody who truly needed medical care was ever taken downstairs. Only the young, healthy people were admitted. Many of them had not returned.
On the tenth day, they came for his son. They said they needed strong, young men to help care for the sickly, the orphans, and the disabled. Farhad asked why it was the medical personnel recruiting his son for this duty but received only a stiff arm in reply.
That night, he replayed the scene when they came for his son in his head over and over. Lost in thought, he was throttled back to reality by the sound of the fire alarm. It had gone off at least twice a day since they had arrived at the center; it was enough to drive a sane man mad. Each time it went off, the people became increasingly agitated.
Farhad saw the chaos as a good opportunity to investigate. He slipped out of the room and walked to the stairwell. He made it down to the parking level, but when he turned the corner towards the stairs leading to Sub-Basement One he came face to face with an armed guard.
“What are you doing here? Return to your quarters immediately. It’s for your own safety.” The guard barked.
“I think my son is down there.” Farhad pleaded.
“Nobody enters without an official escort.” The guard recited. “If your son is down there, he’s either sick or he’s lending a helping hand.”
“Can’t I just see him? I need medical attention, and I’d be happy to volunteer as well.”
“Sir, I’m not going to ask you again.” The guard stepped forward, coming almost nose-to-nose with Farhad. “Go back to you bunk now!”
Defeated, Farhad struggled back up one flight and stopped to catch his breath in the first-floor hallway. Something strange is definitely happening down there, he said aloud.
“Yes!” A voice called out as a hand gripped Farhad’s shoulder from the darkness. “I knew I wasn’t crazy. They said I was crazy.”
“Excuse me, what?” Farhad took a step away from the man.
“I knew I couldn’t be the only one who noticed,” the young man spoke in a loud whisper. “They only take young, healthy people downstairs. It’s some kind of makeshift hospital, right? So why aren’t they taking any sick people?!”
“Exactly!” Farhad shouted.
“Shhh, they’ll hear you.”
“Sorry. Yes, they took my son. Healthiest man I know.”
“They took my brothers. I’m next, I just know it.”
The two men quietly discussed their suspicions and debated the risks of digging deeper into this mystery. In the end it was decided that they had no choice. They would over-power the guard and go to the basement. The young man insisted that he could take out the guard easily if Farhad could provide a distraction.
When they reached the basement, they were met with an awesome sight. They were standing in a state-of-the-art medical facility. The halls were abandoned, but you could hear a commotion going on in nearly every room. Farhad and the man trod down the main hallway towards a set of double doors. As they neared the doors, a sign could be seen off to the right:
NO ENTRY
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
No words needed to be exchanged for the men to decide that they would ignore this rule. They had come this far; there was no turning back now.
Tiptoeing through the doors, they were surprised to find that no alarm went off. This new room was noticeably warmer than the rest of the basement facility. It grew warmer still as they turned a corner and found another set of doors. The word written on this door sent a shockwave of ice and electricity down Farhad’s spine:
INCINERATOR
The men hesitated, contemplating whether they really wanted to see what was on the other side of this door. Regardless, that choice was no longer theirs to make. They heard the unmistakable sound of an automatic rifle being loaded and cocked.
“Walk,” spoke a man in full military attire. He nudged them with the muzzle of his M16 rifle towards the doors which opened clumsily as Farhad’s hip met the cross bar.
“Got another couple of curious cats for ya here, Doc!” The military man shouted with a chuckle. “This one’s old and keeps coughing, but this young guy should do fine. What’s my finder’s fee again?”
“Nicely done, thank you.” Replied a gaunt, pale-skinned doctor, his lab coat spattered with blood and God knows what else. “Ten thousand for the young one, and I’ll throw in an extra five hundred for the old man. I’m sure there’s something we can use.”
The last thing Farhad saw before losing consciousness was what looked like a row of bodies under sheets being led into the incinerator on a metal conveyer belt. The last thing he heard was the fire alarm blaring upstairs.
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