Chương 167: CDM 3, Chapter 43: Site Survey

The Molly Stark Sanatorium was built to serve tuberculosis patients, not psychiatric patients, as the modern use of "sanatorium" might suggest. Active tuberculosis is a bacterial infection of the lungs. That same bacterium can be latent, living in a human body in an inactive state before leveling up to active tuberculosis later.

Until I did the research for this hunt, I didn't know all that much about the disease, but reading that it had a latent form that could lie dormant for years reminded me of our recent discussions about lycanthropy and vampirism. In a strange way, that made me feel connected to all the people in the black and white photographs taken when the facility was still open. As Enforcer McDouglas had said, the location was exceptionally isolated.

While that upped the creepiness factor for the sanatorium as it was today, that was a deliberate, practical choice in the early 1900s. In Pittsburgh, the pollution was so bad that streetlamps and headlights were often used in the middle of the day. White clothing swiftly turned charcoal gray, and hacking up black phlegm was a normal part of everyday life.

"Sootfall," which was literally black soot falling out of the sky, fell at a rate of 118 tons per square mile per month, or roughly 7, 860 pounds per day, or something like 40 pounds per month for an average city lot. A byproduct of bituminous coal–the dirtiest kind of coal, by the way–the soot was sticky and greasy from sulfur and tar. This wasn't fluffy white ash that could be swept away with a broom, in other words.

One famous Atlantic Monthly article described the city as being like looking into "hell with the lad taken off." In that context, shipping tuberculosis patients out to the countryside, as far from smokestacks and steel mills as possible, made sense. Weak lungs didn't stand a chance in cities with that kind of air quality. Their chances weren't much better out in the countryside, unfortunately.

Tuberculosis had a high mortality rate, and one of the sources we found described the sanatorium as a "waiting room for death." That sounded fitting for a place allegedly housing undead.

"I'm not looking forward to seeing this place in the dark," Megan mused when we pulled up to the chain-link fence surrounding the Molly Stark Sanatorium.

"It must have been gorgeous in its heyday," de Saint observed, and I agreed with her. Built in the Spanish Revivalist style, sandy brown brick covered the majority of the structure, with pops of white around columns and decorative arches. Most of the rooftops were flat. Where they weren't, red clay shingles added more color and character. Even covered in graffiti and overgrown with ivy and weeds, the sanatorium was a beautiful piece of architecture.

The backdrop of rolling Ohio fields surrounding it on all sides made it feel even more peaceful.

"That's a big motherfucker," Hornby added, punctuating his observation with a spit of chew.

"Four stories, enough space for 150 beds, and 1, 200 ft of underground tunnels–not that big," Nathan joked. Megan sighed.

"Yeah, not that big at all. Alright. We have a few hours of daylight. The only mob on our list that could be active during the day is bodaks. Everything else–banshees, wraiths, and wisps–comes out at night. Let's get Kimmy in there scouting while we can."

"Roger that," Nathan replied. The new Dungeon Divas van was still far from feature-complete. We managed to bolt down the back seats I got as part of the sale. They didn't match, but that didn't really matter. We mimicked the layout of the van we used for CDM hunts and put their backs against the sides so anyone riding would be facing each other. That was a bit awkward, but we needed the clear lane to move easily from the front to the back and to leave room for stowable hardware like desks and racks.

None of which we had yet. Nathan and de Saint put their laptops on foldout TV dinner trays for the time being.

"What are we going to name your drone?" Nathan asked de Saint as Kimmy took to the sky and did a wide loop around the property.

"I can't still be Rainy?" Nathan frowned.

"I don't know, Rainy. I think we'll need to talk to the branding team about that. We're Divas. Gotta use a Diva-esque name."

"What was the yellow Power Ranger's name?" Giago asked.

"The fact that you have to ask means it's a bad choice," Nathan countered.

"True enough." De Saint thought for a moment.

"Is Rainy ever specifically gendered?"

"That's an interesting question," Nathan replied.

"I always thought he had a beard in that smoke."

"I think we stick with Rainy," I suggested.

"We don't need more names to keep track of. At any rate, it looks like we don't have to worry about goblins hiding out in there."

"What makes you say that?" Megan asked. I pointed at the land around the sanatorium as Kimmy completed her lap.

"I don't see a single game trail, and I haven't heard or seen a single bird, for that matter. Nobody wants to shack up with ghosts." Nathan brought Kimmy low and found a window near the main entrance. He glided down a long hallway with rows of doors on either side for patient rooms. I had expected the interior to be dark and dingy, like any other circa-1900s building we had ventured into, but this place was open, airy, and well-lit by natural sunlight.

The respite the facility sought to provide patients seemed sincere, even after decades of neglect. Old bed frames. Rotten mattresses. Long, cast-iron radiators. Broken chairs. For the amount of wall space available, the volume of graffiti was surprisingly low, especially in comparison to other sites we had visited. Like birds and wild animals, perhaps graffiti artists knew instinctively that this place wasn't safe.

"Good Lord, there are so many nooks and crannies in this place," Giago observed while the rest of us nodded that we agreed.

"With all the walls and doors, a wraith could be two feet away, and you wouldn't know until they phased through to grab you." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Those stairs look like they go down," Nathan said, pausing at the entrance to a stairwell.

"Check out the tunnels now and then work our way up through floors 2, 3, and 4?"

"Sounds good to me," Megan answered. Kimmy glided down and flipped into night vision. The tunnel was wide enough for two people to walk side by side, but the upper corner of one side was dominated by heavy, rusty pipes and old electrical wiring, cutting the functional space down to one person with enough room for someone coming the opposite direction to press against the wall to let you by. No signs of anything living or dead down here either.

The simplicity of the straight corridors meant that we needed only a few minutes to explore the full length of the underground passage. What I had pictured to be labyrinthian was no more complicated than the Fort Pitt Tunnel. Go in one side. Come out the other.

"Anyone here ever fight or see a bodak?" Megan asked. Everyone shook their heads.

"Since they have corporeal forms, we would see their bodies, right?"

"I believe so," de Saint answered, and that was my understanding as well. The upper floors ended up being as unremarkable as the first. The square footage was significant, dozens of rooms branched off of the main hallway, the windows were big and bright, and though we saw decay in every direction, we didn't see any signs of monsters inhabiting here. Giago turned to me.

"Do doomers have any solutions for ghosts?"

"Only spirit in Christianity is the Holy Ghost," I answered.

"A soul goes to heaven or to hell. That's it."

"I've met a buncha doomers who believe in ghosts," Hornby said. I shrugged.

"I'm just telling you what the manual says. Are we ready to talk tactics?"

"If you have thoughts, let them out," Megan replied.

"They're not complicated," I hedged.

"I'm with Giago on not liking the close quarters inside, so I would start with us posting up out here and watching when the sun sets. If we see a monster through a window, then we go get it."

"If we don't?"

"We rock-paper-scissors to see who goes in?" The group laughed.

"For real though," I added.

"We send Kimmy in to scout if we don't see anything, and then the party goes looking."

"We could have Gray Voidwood spray the whole place," Hornby proposed. Megan shook her head.

"We wouldn't have proof of any of the kills. So now we wait for dark." We only had a few hours of waiting before sunset. We set up rotations for watch, so if someone wanted to nap or mess around on their phones, they could do so when their shift wasn't up. Giago and I ended up drawing first shift, so we unfolded a pair of camping chairs to keep an eye on the sanatorium while the others relaxed.

With binoculars in our laps, we stared at a building that had sat there for more than 100 years, just in case something was different about tonight.

"Confirming whether a place like this has monsters seems like it shouldn't be this complicated," Giago said. After a pause where he looked at his hands and lap with concern, he added, "It feels weird to sit in one of these chairs without a beer in my hand."

"Maybe something makes their appearance inconsistent?"

"But what would that be, I mean? These are dungeon monsters and not Earth souls or whatever trapped here. They're organisms rather than spirits, you know?"

"Right, so they're not showing up to avenge their own murders or something."

"Exactly." I thought.

"Could be something environmental, kind of like moon cycles for werewolves. What that would be, I don't have the foggiest." A long stretch of quiet elapsed before Giago said, "What would you do if I ended up being a werewolf?"

"Are you actively trying to eat me or other people in this hypothetical?" Giago wrinkled his face.

"Let's say that no, I'm not on a bloodthirsty rampage. Maybe I wrecked my bachelor pad and had a bad night at Applebee's. Something like that."

"Did you hurt anyone at Applebee's?" Chuckling, he answered, "No. Just embarrassed myself in front of a cute waitress."

"I really don't care if someone is a werewolf or a vampire. If they aren't hurting anyone, then whatever. Howl at the moon as much as you want."

"Do you think that's possible, though?" I shrugged.

"Who knows? If lycanthropy is sitting dormant in a bunch of people's bloodstreams, we have to at least try to make it manageable."

"Could give the werewolves their own New Eden," Giago suggested.

"Do the same for vampires. I'm not saying we skip right to werewolf concentration camps, but maybe if you build a whole country around the knowledge that your population periodically turns into ravenous, super-buffed wolves, it could be manageable."

"Vote Giago for president," I joked.

"If that Baker guy has a shot at governor, I don't see why I couldn't be president." I grunted involuntarily.

"You think that highly of him, huh?"

"I can't prove it, but he's a CKer. A real piece of shit."

"I don't get it," Giago said.

"Who gives a shit about some dead crashers? They brought it on themselves, trying to steal from people like that. Them popping up in a gate puts crawlers at risk too."

"Someone breaking the law to get some XP doesn't deserve to die."

"At this point, though, they have plenty of legal options. Sign a contract like Hornby, and I did. Join the CDM like you. You know what you're risking if you jump into someone else's gate. Consequences are on you."

"Desperate people do desperate things."

"How they feel about what they're doing doesn't change the facts of it," Giago countered. Though I still disagreed, I couldn't immediately counter the logic, especially in light of my ranting about how frustrated I got when people don't follow the rules. Why did crashers get a pass, in my mind? The sun was nearly below the horizon now, and I caught movement in a second-floor window, but it was brief enough that I wasn't certain of what I saw.

"Second floor, nine windows from the left," I said, raising my binoculars while Giago did the same.

"Did you see that?"

"That flicker?"

"Yeah."

"Yep," Giago replied, his binoculars still pressed to his face.

"So that could be a wraith, a banshee, or a wisp."

"Or a fourth surprise option we haven't considered."

"Jesus, Gray. You can't say stuff like that. The universe will use it against you."

"Sorry." I stood from my chair.

"Kimmy! We need your robot eyes."

"You got it, Uncle D," Nathan called back. By the time I was around the back of the van, Kimmy was already taking off. Giago stayed put to watch the rest of the building while I told Nathan where we saw the glow. He skimmed along that level of the building until he found a window broken enough for Kimmy to fit through. Kimmy panned left to look down the hallway. A soft blue light emanated from one of the rooms.

"I got one on the first floor too," Giago called. Hornby furrowed his brow.

"I don't get it. What's so hard about sitting here and spotting these things through the window? I thought these were hard to find." A heavy, unnatural fog billowed out from the sanatorium. In seconds, the building was completely obscured.

"What the fuck, Hornby?!" Giago yelled.

"Yeah, that was an amateur move," Hornby said with a sigh.

"My bad."