It was late. The only sounds were the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, the moaning of drugged patients, and Dr Laroche's footsteps.
A swipe of the keycard and Dr Laroche was in the common room, now empty. Another swipe and he was at the "welcome" desk, unmanned at this hour. A retinal scan got him out of the psych ward and into the main corridor of the hospital.
He went down the stairs and out an emergency exit, tossed the orderly's keycard and eyeball into the bushes, and slipped into the dark city streets to hunt for his next "patient."
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alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
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>