Clouded Rainbow by Jonathan Sturak Read Free Book Online Page B

journey.
     
     
     
    7
     
     
    Roger stepped into the lit hallway of Saint Peters North Hospital. The pain in his right leg intensified as he tried to walk it off. Roger hoped his new attire would be enough to convince any potential barricades, particularly a hospital staff member. Up ahead, a bank of closed elevators lined the hallway as Roger took a moment to check the area. He knew this would be the ideal place for parked individuals and the prime opportunity for small talk, his current worst enemy. Fortunately, he saw nothing and no one, just up and down arrows offering a choice to the elevator’s future patrons. Roger pressed the down arrow and waited. He wished they had made another button, one that would provide a private elevator for those individuals not interested in chatting with a random stranger.
    Why do people always have to talk? Why can’t they just stand in silence? he mused. Roger realized this was just the way humans reacted, craving some meaningless prattle to pass the typical thirty-seconds of silence.
    What was a person’s fear? he pondered. He reasoned people feared offending others by remaining silent. Roger was hoping that no one would be on the elevator, as he had no brainpower to think of a clever excuse for his visit to this floor.
    A ding emitted and the down arrow illuminated. Roger licked his lips as he waited for the doors to open. The doors spread and, to Roger’s dismay, a middle-aged man stood inside the confined space. Roger hoped this man would be on a cell phone or engrossed in a newspaper, but the moment the doors opened, his eyes locked with Roger’s and he appeared eager for the new occupant to join him on his descent.
    Roger stepped on and saw the button marked “G” glowing. He took a step back so that he was behind the stranger, hoping this distance would discourage any direct queries.
    The doors shut, and then silence consumed the two men. No trite music or voice-over announcement resonated, just the loudness of silence.
    The man took a step to his side, and then looked over at Roger’s beaten face and messy hair, moving down to his short pants.
    “Man, you look like you just got hit by a truck,” the man chuckled. “Hey, where’s the flood?” he added with a bigger laugh.
     Roger kept his eyes straight, completely ignoring the man.
    Maybe he will get the idea that I don’t want to talk , he hoped.
    The ding of the bottom floor saved Roger, drawing his eyes up to the illuminated “G.” The doors opened to a floor much like the one Roger had left, save for the flurry of people lining the hall.
    The man maintained eye contact with Roger, curious about his lack of response. Roger scurried into the ground floor.
    “Hey, buddy. Are you alright?” the man yelled, as he realized Roger might have been in distress.
    Roger focused all of his attention on running from the stranger. He moved into the hall as a hint of relief filled his mind. With his attention focused on departing the elevator, he did not see two male paramedics lurking nearby.
    “Hey! Watch out!” yelled one of the men from the collision.
    Roger’s fear of apprehension overwhelmed him as the two paramedics stopped and looked scornfully at him. Roger stumbled, not looking back. He hoped he would not feel a tug on his shoulder from one of the hospital “wardens.”
    Roger scampered through the dense crowd, weaving between passing bodies like a stalked deer using oak trees as cover. He hoped his path would lead to an exit of the prison, but he realized he didn’t know his exact location. While he did visit Southern General Hospital a few times when his boss had been in for heart bypass surgery, this didn’t look like Southern General. He convinced himself that once outside, things should become clearer on how to get home.
    Finally, Roger came to a crossroads. He saw two signs pointing down two different hallways, one toward the “Front Parking Lot,” the other to the “Rear Parking Lot.” Roger