England: 1977 

The Hospital had been a bustling battleground of Doctors and Nurses fighting for the health of their patients.

Now, it was an abandoned wreck, sitting sadly in its once beautiful grounds. The trees joined forces with weeds, scrub and other creeping growth to engulf the surviving buildings.

This was a time before: cell-phones, facebook, twitter, wattpad  –  stuff you all take for granted.  

......

Friends, Paul and Jeanette were born in this Hospital. At sixteen, boredom compelled them to re-visit the place of their birth.

It was Jeanette who suggested they break-in; her thirst for adventure and love of horror films always pulled her towards derelict buildings. Paul was content to just explore the grounds and daydream; he was a sensitive boy, a trait that singled him out for 'gay boy' taunts from the guys at school. 

Jeanette didn't know if he was gay, she didn't care. 'Best friend' was the only label he needed as far as Jeanette was concerned.

"Come on Paul, I'm so bored, we'll have a laugh; if we're lucky we might find a body, or a demented doctor, like in a Hammer Horror film," said Jeanette, ploughing a path through thick bramble with a walking crutch she'd found in the grounds. "Exactly, that's what I'm scared of.  And my Dad says it's haunted you know," said Paul, with his usual nervous apprehension. "Bingo! That's even better, I'm deffo going in. Now come on, don't be a big girls blouse," said Jeanette, rushing towards an abandoned wheelchair.

Jeanette and Paul were inseparable during the summer holidays. If Jeanette was going in, then so was he, no question. Paul was girly, but he was no wuss. 

They arrived at the entrance just after noon. The sun blazed, throwing down its dangerous rays with a fierce intensity. Paul had applied a liberal dose of factor 15 to his exposed areas that morning; he didn't like to burn. Jeanette never bothered, she liked the dark tone the sun gave her skin.

Jeanette raced round the concreted inner grounds on an abandoned wheelchair; while Paul climbed the steps to the entrance, with a hopeful hesitance. 

He hoped to find the building impenetrable, so they could abandon their illegal break-in and move on to his favourite thing – window-shopping in town.

Resigned, he turned to Jeanette, still doing wheelies on the chair, "Jeanette, we won't have to break-in, looks like the doors been left open."

Jeanette pushed the large wooden door. It opened smoothly, without the clichéd creaking you'd expect from a long forgotten door.

......

Once inside, they flinched at the blinding light that flooded the reception hall from the glass domed ceiling. 

It didn't occur to them that the door might have been open for a reason. 

 ......

Jeanette expressed her disappointment, "I thought it'd be all dark, with cobwebs and dusty furniture – where's the scurrying rats and all that spooky Haunted Hospital stuff?" Her disillusion echoed around the empty space.

"HELLOOO!" hollered Paul. They listened as the word bounced off walls, disappearing in a soft whisper down the wide empty corridor that stretched in front of them.

A bed on wheels rested against the wall at the entrance to the long corridor. Jeanette pulled it from the wall, positioned it centrally, then grabbed Paul, pulling him back towards the door, "You ready Paul, let's run for it."

The bed sped down the corridor, driven by the force of its giggling occupants dive. It swerved, coming to rest at a huge signage system at the end of the corridor. 

Paul knelt on the bed, studied the signs and took charge, "Right, what's your problem young lady, give me a steer as to what ward you need," he said, in the officious style of a Doctor.

"Take me to Medical Ward One please."

"And why that one madam?"

"Because it's the only one I can pronounce, and I've got an itchy rash that needs sorting Doctor Paul."

Their laughter ricocheted off walls and reached into distant wards, filling the hospital with its merry sound. It had been many years since the place had heard a joyous noise.

Paul swung the bed into the vast empty space of Medical Ward One. The floors were a shiny polished linoleum – perfect for bed spins. 

"Scream if you wanna go faster," yelled Paul. Jeanette clung to the bed as Paul whipped it into a spinning vortex – this is so much fun – thought Jeanette as she fought to stay on the spinning bed.

Jeanette's head continued to spin as the bed came to a stand still. "That was better than the waltzers," she said, holding her head up right in a futile attempt to steady it. 

'What was that?' Jeanette thought she saw something – a fleeting shape dart past the open doors.

As Paul rifled through a filing cabinet, Jeanette got off the bed. Still un-steady on her feet, she wandered towards the doors.

She peered right. Stared intently. The sun shone through a large window at the end of the corridor, casting dancing shadows along the walls. She relaxed. That's what she saw – shadows.

She looked back into the ward, and noticed all the windows had thick perspex bolted to them. She dismissed this as just 'a derelict' thing, to stop people getting in. It didn't occur to her it may be to stop things getting out. 

"Paul, stop rooting, you nosey twat, let's go and explore this place," she said, relaxing back into the experience.

They wandered the maze of corridors and wards, all empty and identical. It didn't take long for boredom to creep up on them, "I'm starving, let's go Paul, I've had enough," said Jeanette: chips, and an ice-cold coke on her mind.

"It's this way Jeanette, I have a better sense of direction than you," said Paul, with his firm tone, the one that made Jeanette smile. If only he could be that assertive with the boys at school.

They'd wandered farther into the bowels of the mammoth old Hospital than they'd realised. "OK Paul, I'm not arguing with you, just get us out of here," said Jeanette, yearning for chips and that ice cold coke.

Their bearings were hampered by the sameness; there were no distinguishing objects, rooms or markers to guide them.

When Paul looked into a ward he thought they'd passed, he realised, without doubt – they were lost.

Every ward had been empty, this one had a solitary bed, positioned in the centre of the empty space. And someone, or something lay on it.

When Jeanette saw it; her hunger for chips diminished. She was hit with a mix of fear and fun, the same intoxicating buzz she got from horror movies.

Paul stared from a safe distance, it looked like a shop mannequin; at least that's what he hoped it was. 

"I don't think that's a shop dummy," said Jeanette, deliberately trying to scare Paul – he hated horrors.

"Course it is, look at the colour of it, you can tell it's plastic," said Paul. "Trust me, that's a dead body! We go all yellow and plasticy when we're dead," said Jeanette, walking slowly towards the bed – in a deliberate attempt to build the tension.

Jeanette knew she was spooking Paul big time.

She figured it wasn't real; so strode confidently onwards. 

Jeanette stopped when she saw it move.

Paul noted her hesitance and took a step back, "Stop messing about Jeanette, seriously, come on – let's go, we shouldn't be in here," he said, eager to get back into the sun shiny world of window-shopping.

Jeanette ignored Paul. She stared at it, transfixed. Slightly scared.

Its chest undulated with a slow rhythmic movement. 

"I'm not messing Paul, it's alive," said Jeanette, trying to make sense of what she saw. 

Reluctantly Paul moved towards his friend – and whatever lay on the bed.

He noted a noise – a high-pitched, struggling breath came from – from what? He couldn't be sure.

Paul's heart thumped.

Jeanette held onto Paul's arm, they moved closer.

When they reached the side of the bed, the chest movement abruptly stopped.

The only sound came from their tense, shallow breaths.

Jeanette broke their silence, "Has it died?"

Their guttural screams roared through the mammoth space as life leapt from the bed, landing at their feet. It lunged upwards, sinking its sharp, defensive teeth into Jeanette's thigh. She instinctively tore the thing from her and hurled it across the vast room. It took with it a piece of her soft thigh tissue, lodged in its horny, hungry mouth.

They had disturbed a pair of rats, copulating in the empty chest cavity of a First Aid Dummy's Chest. 

......

Jeanette regretted trying to wind-up Paul.

Blood radiated from her inner thigh, staining her jeans with its seeping darkness.

"Fuck it, the little bastard! This really hurts Paul," cursed Jeanette, clutching her thigh in an effort to stem the blood flow. It bled like hell. 

She looked at Paul, concerned, "Can you get diseases from rats? I think you can," she said, answering her own question.

"You'll need a tetanus injection, I got one when Jake's dog bit me; the doctor gave me a little prick in the arse, you'll be alright." Jeanette could always depend on Paul for reassurance and a cheeky piece of innuendo.

.....

Jeanette's rat bite gave them the rationale to find the entrance hall.

When they turned into the sun filled reception, that ice-cold coke came back to mind.

Paul marched for the door.

Jeanette, distracted by her thigh wound, looked up when she heard Paul's straining grunts. "Is it locked?" she asked. Paul swung round; she noted his sweaty brow, "Yeah, locked solid."

Paul grabbed a walking frame, "Come on, I'll smash one of the windows in the ward." Jeanette had a heart sink moment: she recalled the thick plastic perspex bolted to the windows.

...... 

Their mission to find an exit proved exhaustive. The Hospital had an ever-ending amount of floors, all accessed by steep concrete stairwells.

They weren't panicked, they knew there had to be a way out; they'll find it soon, thought Paul. 

"How long after your bite did you have an injection," asked Jeanette as they took another tiring flight of stairs upwards. "I went to the Hospital straight away," said Paul, suddenly realising that any bite, particularly one by vermin should be attended to promptly.

The first pang of panic hit Jeanette when they reached the fourth floor and found more of the same: unbreakable perspex, sealed fire escapes, impenetrable concrete. She hadn't even washed her wound. There wasn't any water in this Hospital! The place was as dry as their mouths.

......

The sun began its slow descent, throwing disorientating shadows around the vast hallways and empty rooms. "Hello, who's there?" hollered Paul, as another shape darted by, giving them both a heady mix of fear and hope.

The light had dimmed considerably by the time they reached the tenth floor: tired and maddeningly thirsty.

Paul slumped against a wall, "Don't panic Jeanette, we'll be laughing about this tomorrow when we get out. Let's sit the night out up here, someone from outside is bound to see us in the morning and fetch help."

......

Jeanette removed her jeans and cleaned the rat bite with her own saliva as best she could. She saw a small hole in her thigh – the rat had dug deep.

......

When the sun finally said goodbye to the day, The Hospital became shrouded in blackness.

With the darkness came sounds: scuttling, scurrying, scratching – creatures seeking food.

They sat with their backs to the wall; ready to defend themselves – they wouldn't become rat food.

Their eyes didn't become accustomed to the dark. They remained blind to whatever hungry mouths roamed The Hospital. 

......

The night was sticky and warm, yet Jeanette felt cold and shivery. When she touched her forehead it was wet with sweat. "Paul, I desperately need water, I think I've got rat fever," she said, throwing her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm.

Paul cuddled his best friend, he'd keep her safe until salvation came.

......

Jeanette began to drift in and out of slumber. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to blank a horrible night.

Paul remained awake, acutely aware of every sound. The Hospital was alive with movement on every level, cockroaches and vermin battling to find sustenance in the empty space.  

......

Somewhere in the dead of night, Paul thought he heard a different noise.

He tilted his head towards the source of the sound – footsteps.

The clatter of heavy footfall reverberated above him. He stood up, listened hard. 

"Jeanette wake up, get up," he shouted. Hopeful.

Jeanette woke, groggy and disorientated. Her dry mouth soon brought her back to their reality. "Jeanette, come on, there's someone in here, I can here them walking around on the next floor."

......

The moon gave way to a weak sun that shed a glimmer of light throughout The Hospital.

Together they ran to the Hallway; the footsteps marched above them.

They chased the steps, shouting as they went, "Hello, were down here, on the tenth floor, can you let us out – please – can you let us out?" 

The footsteps stopped.

Paul felt the need to apologise, "We're sorry, we didn't break in, the door was left open – honest, it was – we didn't trespass!"

Bang. Clatter. Snap – a door being secured shut.

Thirst as much as panic compelled them forward, shouting dry mouthed chants, "We're trapped – can't you hear us – hello – hello!"

A crushing silence descended.  

They watched the sun begin to rise on what promised to be another  sun-shiny day.

......

Paul saw them first, three men outside. His heart leapt – in joyful anticipation of that ice-cold coke.

The men walked around the grounds; talking into large, hand held communication devices.

Paul and Jeanette pounded the perspex, screaming, "Look up, let us out!" The men didn't respond, they seemed to be preoccupied, looking for something – "They're looking for us Jeanette, don't worry, they'll see us soon!"

The men began to walk away, turning their backs on the condemned building, unaware of its living inhabitants.

Present day

I remember how beautiful that dawn was. The sun rose into a bright blue sky; it was only 5.30 a.m. yet sweat dripped profusely from under my hard hat. 

At a safe distance, we looked back towards The Hospital, our final check. That's when I made eye contact with a young man, who I now know to be Paul Taylor. He waved  triumphantly from the tenth floor. 

Although I was some distance away, I still saw hope in his smile. Jeanette joined him at the window, her smile beamed bright. 

I saw them hug with pure delight: best friends.

I dropped to my knees and screamed into my walkie-talkie – "STOP – STOP – STOP! ABORT!"

Too late. The detonator had been pressed.

The Hospital imploded.

I watched it disappear in a cloud of concrete and smoke: demolished.

......

I was told they would have felt no pain – their oblivion instant.

The Hospital brought them to the cradle; and took them to their grave.

I accept full accountability for their death; it was our job to ensure the condemned building was empty prior to demolition. I will forever regret not looking or listening harder. 

There are some jobs in which we cannot afford to become complacent; mine was one of them.

....

A luxury block of apartments now stands on the old Hospital site. During warm summer nights, the residents talk of being woken by the sound of wheels rattling along the communal hallways, accompanied by the sound of hysterical joy filled laughter.  

I take comfort from this; I hope Jeanette and Paul laugh forever in heaven. They deserve eternal joy.

 Note from Author: Please think twice before entering any derelict or abandoned building. The dangers therein are very REAL indeed!