The Python at the Playground

They would return Toby to Greg. The thought settled over me like a weight I couldn’t lift. A hospital full of guards and police offered no protection if they trusted the wrong man.

The place had become dangerous. I had brought Toby into the middle of the threat, and every minute we stayed made it easier for someone to find us.

I spotted the attacker’s faded green scrub top beside the broken glass. I snatched it up, felt something bulky in its breast pocket, and stuffed the garment into my backpack.

“Toby, we’re leaving. Right now.” I kept my voice quiet, though panic tightened every word.

His hand shook in mine. Brutus moved close to him without waiting for me to ask, placing his broad body between Toby and the open doorway.

We stepped out of Room 412 and went right, away from the main elevators. Security would likely come up that way. I needed another route.

I knew Oakridge General’s layout from years of HVAC work. A few doors along the corridor, a supply closet stood beside the service stairwell.

We slipped through the closet door just as boots pounded from the far end of the ICU. Radios crackled somewhere beyond the shelves and cleaning carts.

I drew out my old maintenance keys. I’d never handed them back with my utility badge, and now that small failure might save us.

A brass key turned in the rear door. It opened onto a stark concrete stairwell, the air inside cool and carrying every distant sound.

We hurried through, and I eased the door shut behind us. The noise from the ICU faded, though I could still feel it pressing at my back.

“Keep going down,” I whispered. “All the way.”

The stairs wound through the building beneath flickering lights. Toby’s sneakers squeaked on the steps. Brutus followed close, almost silent despite his size.

We passed the lobby level and kept descending past the parking garage. I didn’t stop until we reached the sub-basement, deep in the hospital’s machinery spaces.

I used an old access badge at the restricted door. Beyond it, the air smelled of hot steam, grease, and electrical equipment.

Pipes and ducts crowded the dim corridors. Generators hummed behind metal housings. Few people from the medical floors ever came down here.

I guided Toby and Brutus through the mechanical maze toward a tool crib tucked near the boiler room. A chain-link fence enclosed it from floor to ceiling.

A heavy padlock secured the gate. I opened it with my keys and pulled the mesh door wide.

Then I crouched in front of Toby, bringing my face level with his. “Stay in here with Brutus. I’m locking the gate, and I’ll be back.”

I took a thick flashlight from my backpack, switched it on, and placed it in his hands. “Keep this with you. No one is coming through that gate.”

He stared at the gloomy room, breathing hard as he held the light. Since the attack, not a word had come from him.

“I have to take care of this,” I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ll come back for you. Brutus will keep you safe.”

Brutus entered the enclosure and turned once before settling on the floor. He rested his scarred muzzle on his paws, watching me with calm, alert eyes.

Toby went in after him. He sat beside the dog and pressed his face into Brutus’s thick coat. The mastiff leaned against him with a low, gentle rumble.

I shut the gate and fastened the padlock. Then I tugged hard on the mesh. It held firm.

I backed away and lowered myself onto an overturned bucket nearby. Under the weak yellow bulb, the rush that had carried me here began to ebb, leaving my hands unsteady.

I opened my backpack and took out the green scrub top. The weight in its pocket had followed us all the way down.

My fingers found a laminated property tag and a photograph tucked close beside it. The tag carried my address: 718 Sycamore Lane, Apartment 4. The picture showed Toby asleep in my guest bed.

The attacker had been inside my apartment, close to my nephew while I slept nearby. My stomach clenched. I searched the pocket again and felt a hard plastic shape.

I pulled out a cheap prepaid phone. Its screen was cracked, but the device was still on. There was no passcode prompt to stop me.

I opened the burner and looked for evidence that might tell me who the attacker was and what he planned to do next.