There were no birds singing as their car followed the curve of the driveway, tyres crunching on gravel. A heavy pall shrouded the sanitarium in gloom; the air was humid and tense.
They pulled up outside the main building, under the baleful gaze of a cyclopean eye carved into dormer fascia of the central bay windows. Constance looked up at the bas-relief as she closed the car door with a clunk, straightened her trench-coat over her hips.
“That thing is creepy.”
Weldon closed his own door and glanced up before walking round to the back of the car and popping open the trunk.
“Yeah, but then that’s what we do right?”
Constance shivered involuntarily for a moment, then went to help her colleague with their equipment.
“So what’s the story here?” she asked once they were inside, setting up a motion camera in the dining hall.
“They did stuff to people here, experimented on them.”
“Electrocution therapy, drugs, sleep deprivation, hypnosis, lobotomies; drove people bat-shit insane. Then they put them in strait-jackets and locked them up screaming in the deepest holes they could find.”
“Then one day it all went from bad to worse; because some of them escaped. They killed some of the staff, and the place was closed down. Nobody would buy the building until recently…”
“…and now the new owners hear screams and things going bump in the night.”
“Well, I’m done with this camera; let’s get outa here.”
Suddenly they heard a loud bang, saw the main doors of the dining hall had slammed shut. They looked at each other, eyes wide. Weldon’s mouth formed a half-smile, Constance laughed nervously.
“The wind, right?”
BANG; the door at the other end of the hall slammed shut.
Daylight faded to pitch darkness. A deafening thud shook the building.
Then they heard the screams.