Chapter 12: Intermission Time

Player: Katrina Longingale Location: The Longest Hallway In the world.

“And… how do you quit?” I asked.

Gracie looked a bit disappointed. I felt a little bad—she had seemed genuinely happy to see me just a moment ago, when she came running into the doctor's room to check on me.

That’s it. What did she call me?

"You mentioned me being a new recruit—do you check on everyone who joins this… ‘Binman’?”

"Ah, no—it’s just that my squad recently lost someone, and I was really looking forward to meeting the new member. Which is you.

“My own training was pretty intense—honestly, it was terrifying—and I remember wishing someone had been there to welcome me. I figured if I showed up in a good mood and made you feel welcome, maybe it would help take the edge off. And truthfully, I was genuinely curious to meet the person joining our team.

"All the new recruits have to be checked on after the training—it’s intense, heart-stopping stuff. Some end up stuck in the hospital for days, not because they’re hurt, but just from the sheer shock of what they went through. They don’t let anyone leave until they’re fully recovered. (If you fail the training, though, you're on your own. The FBI doesn’t cover medical bills for recruits who don’t make it.)

“That’s probably what happened to you—you wanted to join an FBI department, passed the training, proved you were qualified, and then ended up here. If they think you're qualified, then you most certainly are!”

I'm not so sure, Gracie, I'm not so sure.

Gracie continued, “They ask if you want to be a Binman, and if you say yes, you go through training. After that, you’re taken to the doctors, and before you know it, you’re on your first mission.

But unfortunately, you got Dr. Lost—who most likely pulled one of his mean pranks and made you lose your memories.”

Well, Gracie did seem genuinely nice. She wanted me to have a good experience—even if I suspected that experience would end with me dying. (A.K.A. the mission would lead to my doom.) Still, I wanted her to be happy too. She looked disappointed when I said I wanted to quit. But honestly, I liked the idea of surviving a lot more.

The whole “monsters are real” thing still felt impossible. Now that I had confirmation, I didn’t feel relieved like some people claim they do. If anything, my fear had exploded tenfold.

Then, just to add a little more nightmare fuel to my already maxed-out brain, a cart whipped around the corner. Fast. Wildly fast. Like they were late to a Black Friday sale at a haunted mall.

On the cart was a person—well, most of one. Their arm was just… gone. Torn clean off like a paper doll with a bad attitude. Blood soaked the sheets, splattered the floor, and trailed behind the wheels like a murder snail had done laps through the hallway. The person pushing the cart was dressed head-to-toe in bright pink scrubs.

“Bloody tutus were never fashionable,” they hissed.

I tried not to stare at the mangled arm. I really did. But it was like watching a car crash covered in glitter. I caught one last glance of the woman’s blood-soaked elbow stump, felt my stomach lurch, and immediately snapped my head the other way—and that’s when I saw the Bloody Door again.

You know, even with my memories wiped, possibly a damaged brain, and no clue if I’ll forget everything again…

I have a feeling I’ll always remember today.

That's not a good thing.

I turned to Gracie. “Thank you,” I observed. “I appreciate that you wanted me to have a better experience than you did. It’s the thought that counts—you may think you’ve failed, but it really is the thought that counts.

Sounds like you didn’t have much fun. Did someone show you around, or did you just walk through the world’s longest hallway all alone?”

“Oh, before anyone starts training, they’re shown the hospital to see if they can handle the sight of gore. I can’t, but I pretended I could.

That’s classified, of course—but everybody knows. Everyone is also told what they’re supposed to do once they’ve recovered from the training.”

“And what is ‘training’ exactly?”

“Oh, silly me!” Gracie ingored my question, “I forgot to mention! The boss waits at the front gates of the hospital whenever someone gets recruited. He’s there with their first mission. That first mission is different from all the others because the new recruit has to take it alone, without their team.

Now, I had spoken to the boss and asked if I could tag along on your first mission. For some reason, he agreed—unusual for him, but I just put on my charm.”

The charm from who could’ve been a goddess, I thought.

Gracie continued, “But of course, you don’t sound like you want to join us on our merry way, so we can just tell him you’re quitting.”

I squinted. “And my memory? Will he help with that? I mean, I’d hate to miss something I should be afraid of—and then suddenly find myself cuddling with something like a bear.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty likely given your situation,” she commented. “He might help. Or he might not. He’s the kind of guy who sometimes really cares, but other times he’s more focused on making emotional posters—like that one behind us, with the bubblegum girl.”

Yeah. Inspiring.

I looked down at the floor. “Yeah, but I need a solution for this. Maybe I can get a different doctor and explain things to them. I’d prefer a non-mad doctor—those crazy ones scare me a bit. And evil clowns scare me too. If it's a clown that's also a hero, though, that’s more than fine. I’ve never met one, but if I did—and they were a doctor—that’d be a win.”

“Yeah, that’s it! We’ll ask for a different doctor, specifically not one named Dr. Lost, and definitely no one with clownish hobbies. Then we’ll be fine.”

“Evil clownish hobbies. If there's only one good doctor and he's a clown, I'm not turning him away.”

“Okaaaaaaaay. So, do you feel groggy or sick before we head to him? It’s a long walk, and there are rooms where you can lie down nearby—but not on the first floor, since we’re on the second.”

“Yes. I feel groggy and sick.”

The nausea was bubbling up like a shaken soda as another cart rolled by—this time with someone shot in the right arm. I tried to calm myself: Well, at least I don’t have a bullet in my shoulder... yet. Yeah, real comforting.

But where was the danger? What if the shooter was lurking nearby, maybe right outside with the boss, plotting their next move? Heck, maybe they were a puppy—because who would suspect a puppy, right? That’d totally throw off the police. And just my luck, when I’m lying in one of these carts, bam! Puppy attack!

Okay, okay, maybe that’s a little too much. But still, if there’s a puppy involved, I’m pretty sure the police would trust those big eyes over mine any day.

Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to parade around bloody victims in front of new recruits while they were trying to “calm” the rookies down? That’s like throwing gasoline on a campfire and calling it a light show. Unless, of course, someone was forced to do it by a dog with a gun—which just makes the whole thing messier.

All I knew was that my stomach was staging a full revolt.

As I imagined every deadly scenario, Gracie was thinking aloud. “Hmm. We can’t really reassign you to a different doctor unless we talk to the boss first, so either way, we’ll need to see him. But if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better, just let me know.”

“There is something,” I verbalized.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“I’d like to move away from the bloody door.”

She glanced over, then seemed to realize, Oh yeah, I forgot about that.

She turned back to me and exlaimed, “Well, we should be on our way anyway.”

“You act like it’s a long way out of this hospital?”

“Oh, it is. This place is basically built to strengthen our leg muscles.” She started walking again, and I followed.

“Oh wait,” I paused.

“Hmmm?” she asked, pausing.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I added, “Can you turn away for a second? I just need to check something.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

After she turned, I lifted my dress just enough to check my belly.

Good. No broken skin or signs of damage. I needed to make sure no alien had burst through my stomach without me noticing. But I was in the clear. Phew.

I put my dress down. “You can look now.”

I walked back over to Gracie.

“Is the boss… nice? Or is he more the kind who doesn’t check his emails? No offense if you don’t, but does he?”

Gracie paused to think before answering as we walked down the longest hallway in the world. I was still hoping to tell the boss that this whole FBI vs. Aliens life wasn’t really my style.

“Well, I think Dr. Lost doesn’t check his emails,” she explained, “but the boss is more… unpredictable.”

“So, you don’t like him but don’t want to get fired for saying so?”

“‘Dislike’ is such a strong word. I’d say we just don’t mesh well. But if we’re talking about Dr. Lost, then ‘dislike’ doesn’t even cover it—‘hate’ might be too mild.”

Gracie’s hands clenched into fists. I could see the pain in her big, beautiful eyes.

“What happened between you two? I mean, I’m not the happiest with him either—causing memory loss is no small thing.”

“It was the summer of ’69,” she answered quickly, “and no, I’m not referencing anything else.”

“You got your first six-string then?”

“No.”

“Huh, I can still remember the song. Well, I’d love to hear the story of what happened between you two.”

“I’ll tell you someday. But I don’t like to talk about it out in the open,” she whispered.

I looked down the empty hallway—so empty, I thought I even saw a tumbleweed roll by.

“Should I be concerned about the boss?” I asked. “At least put an end to my suffering over whether I should be concerned about him.”

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“Only if you don’t like puppies with guns,” she replied.

Erika! I had struck the pot earlier. I grabbed Gracie’s arm and stopped dead center in the hallway At least no Bloody Door’s were nearby. “So there is a dog waiting for me down there. I do not want to be shot in the arm.”

“Oh, sweetie, nobody does.”

“You make it sound like it happens often.”

“Only occasionally. It’s only happened twice to me.”

“You know, I was A bit unsure if I should really quit, since I had clearly wanted to work as A special FBI agent at some point, but you’ve really cleared things up for me. I now know for sure that my true purpose in life is to never step foot here again.”

“Don’t worry about the boss. I just meant he looks cute but can hurt you so badly you could die.”

“Ah, that’s a perfectly normal and relaxing sentence.”

I let go of her arm and kept walking. She followed behind me like a puppy.

“Thanks—you really fulfilled my wish of getting rid of the worry about whether I should be concerned about the boss or not,” voiced.

“Aw, sweetie, he isn’t that bad once you learn how to avoid him.”

“Why are you calling me ‘sweetie’? I’m a stranger, not your granddaughter or lover.”

“Oh no! I’m sorry. I call that to people I want to be friends with, but sometimes it comes off as creepy. I’ve been trying not to, but I forget sometimes. And you seem to make me happy.”

I looked at Gracie's goddess like face. “Friend?”

She nodded. “You know, instead of grabbing my arm, you could just grab my hand.”

Holding hands? For friends? Maybe she doesn’t know what kind of summer of ’69 people have who aren’t Bryan.

“Maybe I’ll take another step in here someday.”

She beamed. “Truely?”

“Just to visit.”

“Really?”

“No, I changed my mind. We really shouldn’t be meeting at a hospital.”

She nodded. “I guess that's true. Can I still call you sweetie? Because that would be sweet wouldn’t it?”

I shrugged “If you want to.”

Gracie clapped. “Of course, you can call me goddess,” she declared with a smile.

“Okay, sure—Medusa.”

She grinned. “Wanna see who can reach the end of the hallway first? Let’s race!”

“I don’t think I want to race a girl who literally has abs.”

“That’s insulting! Just because I have abs here doesn’t mean I have muscle everywhere.”

“But... do you?”

She smiled sheepishly. “I do.”

“Well, maybe you have some too. You did join for a reason. But if you don’t want to race, you don’t have to.”

“Well... I suppose I could try.”

We stopped walking. Gracie held up three fingers.

“When I count to three, we’ll start running, okay?”

I nodded and got ready. I cleared my thoughts. No thinking about bloody doors, or blood, or a woman missing an arm—definitely don’t think about that.

“Three,” she began, starting the countdown.

I took a deep breath.

“Two.” She lowered one finger.

I closed my eyes.

I wasn’t looking at blood at the moment—but with my eyes shut, there was no chance of seeing it.

“One.”

My eyes opened. I felt a strange force take over my body. I reached out and grabbed Gracie’s hand.

She had already started running when I did—only she realized it too late. The momentum of her sprint yanked me forward, and I fell to my knees, getting dragged across the ground for a few long, painful seconds.

“I’m sorry!” she apologized, stopping immediately once she realized what had happened. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it didn’t really hurt when I fell. But when you dragged me…”

Gracie looked panicked. I felt a little bad.

“I know you might be new to races,” she responded, “but usually people don’t hold hands during them. Not before or after, either... but I could make an exception.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what I was thinking. Sorry about that. Do you still want to race?”

“I don’t know… do you think you can keep up?”

“No.”

“Really? I believe in you.”

“I believe I just got flattened by your sheer force.”

“And I still believe in you.”

“You might want to work on your comebacks.”

I bent over my knees on the pink floor—only then noticing the bloodstain shaped like a bunny. I took a few cautious steps to the right.

It was a little weird... blood forming a bunny? Maybe it was a secret message from the critter itself: Don’t trust dogs.

“On three—I mean, one,” Gracie muttered.

“Three is the new one,” I replied.

“Three doesn’t mean one! Oh, but before we start, try to avoid stepping on the bloody pictures on the floor. I’ve got a wand and a rabbit, but no one I’ve met seems to like magic.”

“I don’t think I like magic if it’s made of blood, no.”

“Two! That’s T-W-O, not T-O-O.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured... what with the whole race and everything.”

“Ooh, and make sure to avoid the big red blood ahead. And then… one!”

“Puddle. You mean puddle. I wouldn’t call puddles blood.”

I started running—or, well, more like walking carefully—eyes glued to the floor, making sure I didn’t step in any blood. Gracie, of course, had already taken off, skipping right over a big “red puddle” I’d only just spotted.

For a place meant to heal patients, this hospital sure had a lot of opportunities to reinfect them—with a disease called seeing blood everywhere.

I ran around the big puddle. Luckily, there was just enough space between it and the wall, because I really, really don’t like seeing blood. I even closed my eyes as I ran past.

That was a mistake.

I felt my foot splash into something wet. I opened my eyes. Of course—the puddle of blood.

I stopped running immediately. My stomach twisted. But then I noticed something worse: where I’d stepped, the blood was changing color. Turning pink. It was like a slow wave of cotton-candy horror spreading across the puddle.

I already hated blood, but now I hated pink, too. Blood should not turn pink. This wasn’t some censored anime episode—it was real life.

Worse still, I was barefoot. My bare skin had touched it. The blood was glistening on my toenails.

I screamed. “Forget the good doctor clowns, Gracie—I need you right now!”

But she was too far ahead. She didn’t seem to hear me. I could just barely make out her figure in the distance, skipping again—probably over another blood puddle.

This hospital really should have someone to clean these things up. You’d think the FBI would have that figured out by now.

Gracie was so far ahead, and I was thinking she should’ve said, “I believe in speed,” not “I believe in you.” I wondered what monsters she’d trained to outrun.

I was definitely quitting. I never wanted to see those bloody rabbits or pink blood again. Who knew I’d actually prefer red blood? I’d had a long day. A very long day.

I started running after Gracie, regretting not grabbing her hand at the start of this race. My two limp legs weren’t taking me far through this weird terrain of pink walls and more inspirational posters—this time featuring tree limbs hanging from cats with the words “Hang in there.”

I always thought it was usually the cat hanging from the branch, not the other way around. But then again, I didn’t expect to see posters with bubblegum, girls, and death either.

I jumped over another blood puddle, eyes closed again, starting to feel queasy from all the blood.

Of course, I didn’t make it—I landed right in the middle of the puddle. The blood started turning pink again.

I tried to remember the inspirational poster—“Hang in there.” I was the branch hanging onto a cat that somehow had no arms.

It really defined science, and I hoped to defy the germs on my feet by pretending they didn’t exist.

Gracie looked back at me from far ahead. I tried yelling, “Gracie, I’m freaking out! The blood is turning pink, and cats aren’t as inspiring as the boss thinks!”

Gracie just smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I think believing you can stay calm and not freak out over germs is unrealistic, but that seemed to be her religion.

I waved my arms like… well, like a person waving their arms.

Gracie stopped running—because, obviously, stopping for a minute wouldn’t hurt her chances of winning—and started waving her arms too. Then she began jumping up and down.

I felt like she was mocking me, but I had to assume she was just being an idiot. I mean, she did seem like a nice person, so I had to be nice too.

“I need your help!” I yelled from a distance.

Gracie immediately stopped waving her arms like a lunatic and quit jumping around. She gave me another thumbs up. I responded with a thumbs down.

Her face turned to confusion. Then she pointed at the wall, blew air into her cheeks, puffing up her face.

I pointed to my feet. She shook her head and pointed at the wall again.

Gracie would definitely lose a game of charades.

I lifted up my foot and pointed at it—but then I lost my balance and fell over. Sadly, I landed right in a blood puddle.

I got up, standing in the pinkish blood. My vision was a bit blurry, everything now tinged with a faint shade of pink. I wiped at my eyes, but the pink hue stayed. Even the inspiring poster of a dog chasing a human looked off.

I mean, how is a dog scaring away a human supposed to be inspiring? I started to wonder if the boss really had it all together.

Gracie came running back, skipping over another blood puddle. She paused briefly to grab a piece of paper off the wall before continuing toward me.

I really hoped she wasn’t going to tell me to “hang in there.”

When she finally reached me, she voiced, “I’ve got this paper to clean off your foot.” the poster was already wet with red blood, though.

“I’d prefer not to get more blood on me, but thanks for the thought,” I disclosed.

The boss must be a crazed lunatic who didn’t mind germs—at least based on the posters of dogs chasing humans, with blood dripping off their teeth. Lovely.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Gracie replied, pointing to another poster on the wall. “I can find you an inspirational poster with a cat dripping blood.”

“Why is there so much blood in this hospital?” I asked, wiping the blood from my eyes.

“I’d just like to bathe in sanitizer,” I asserted. “I could die from it, but I could die from these germs too, so it’s a give and take. I think I saw a bathroom near Doctor Lost’s place—maybe once I turn invisible, I can go. If the blood starts turning pink, invisibility doesn’t sound so far off.”

Gracie thought for a moment. “I think invisibility is more something we’d want to get rid of. But there’s a bathroom in the next building over. After we meet the boss, we can get you cleaned up.”

“I think getting there as soon as possible is the objective now—not staring at blood-covered posters.”

“What are you covered in? Pink gum turned slime? Did someone talk to you while I was ahead? You know, winning races usually means people don’t stop to chat or get covered in slime.”

“It’s the blood. It… it turned pink when I touched it. You know, when I fell and closed my eyes? And the only person I screamed at was you.”

“Really?” Gracie looked confused. “That’s odd. Maybe we shouldn’t mention this to the boss—he doesn’t like supernatural stuff.”

“Yeah, but he sure does love scary animals.”

“Come on,” Gracie lent out a hand. “get on my back.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Get on my back so I can piggyback you to the bottom floor and the end of the hallway. You said you wanted to get here as fast as possible, and I can run really fast.”

No kidding.

“oh, uh, thanks.”

She bent down and adjusted her arms into position. “Just hop on, and we’ll be seeing a puppy with a shotgun in no time!”

“Maybe you should rephrase that if it’s supposed to excite me.”

I looked at Gracie’s pretty dress — a soft, flowing fabric that caught the light with every subtle movement, the delicate pastel color contrasting beautifully with her bright eyes and warm smile.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I’d hate for the pink goo to get on and ruin your dress.”

I tried wiping some of the pink blood off my dress, but then I realized my hand was touching blood, and I stopped immediately.

“Oh no, that’s a sweet thought, but no,” she spoke, shaking her head with a small smile. “This dress? It actually came from Doctor Lost’s wardrobe—not one he ever wears, but one he keeps just in case of a housekeeper, which, well, was me. So honestly, I’m kind of looking forward to ruining it. It’s almost like a little act of rebellion.”

I paused for a moment, my mind drifting. You know, I really started to wonder what had happened between them. If Doctor Lost was truly so terrible that he’d go as far as taking away my memory, maybe there was some deeper reason why she hated him so much. Not to mention, she seemed to direct her anger at him rather than the guy who just put up scary posters all over the walls. But for me, the amount of dislike was a tie.

“Does Doctor Lost hate you this much too?” I asked quietly, curiosity slipping into my voice.

She scrunched up her face, like she was trying to piece together a complicated memory, or maybe reliving an awkward interrogation. “What? What made you think that?” she exclaimed, blinking in surprise. “I mean, probably. He hates everybody, or at least I hope he does, considering how he treats people. Nobody seems to get off easy with him.”

“Well, if it makes you happy,” I shrugged, grinning, “I’ll ruin that dress with pleasure.”

Without warning, I hopped onto her back, catching her off guard. But as I tried to hold on, I slipped off—my hands were slick with blood, making the grip impossible. We both laughed, the tension breaking for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Gracie reached out and lent me a steadying hand. “I appreciate the whole idea of ruining this outfit,” she proclaimed with a wry smile, “but maybe we should focus on getting out of here instead of falling all over the place.”

I smiled weakly and hopped back onto her, this time making sure she had a solid grip so I wouldn’t slip off again. Her arms tightened around me, steady and reassuring.

“How far are we from the end of the hallway?” I asked, squinting down the seemingly endless corridor.

“About 145 posters away,” she chimed.

I glanced around more carefully. The posters weren’t evenly spaced like I had first thought; some were clustered closely together in pairs, while others seemed miles apart. The uneven rhythm made the hallway feel even longer, like a cruel maze designed to torment anyone trapped inside.

“Sure,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

A sudden shiver ran down my spine. I hoped this wasn’t some kind of cruel trick played by a higher power. Maybe I was dead, trapped in some kind of hellish purgatory. Who knew that being stuck piggyback riding a goddess through the longest, blood-soaked hallway filled with terrifying posters could be a nightmare? Did you? Well, lucky you.

Gracie’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Ready?”

I took a deep breath and tightened my grip on her shoulders.

“No.” I replied.

Gracie started running. She skipped effortlessly over a giant puddle of blood. She was moving so fast that the walls and inspirational posters began to blur around us. That’s when I realized she must have been going easy on me when we were racing in hell. Believing in me? Yeah, she really did—when she went easy.

“Hey,” I called out, “is there a suggestion box for this hospital? Because I’d really like to suggest less blood.”

Gracie suddenly stopped running. I wasn’t prepared, and the momentum sent me flying into a wall. The impact stung, especially in my head, but not nearly as much as the mental dread of being covered in blood, knowing germs could be on me. I hoped Gracie didn’t greet new recruits this way all the time.

“Are you okay, Kat?” she asked, concern in her voice.

I closed my eyes, scanning my surroundings through my mind. I was afraid to open them—what if I landed in another puddle of blood? But I had to see, just in case there was an alien standing right next to me. Slowly, I swiveled my head, but my eyes wouldn’t cooperate yet.

“I’m alive. I think. Unless I’m in hell, which seems more and more likely.”

Finally, I opened my eyes. We had reached the end of the hallway. There was a door with words imprinted on it: “End of The Beginning (I feel it)”.

“We made it!” Gracie cheered, throwing her arms up. “Let’s focus on that. Now, up you go—we’re off to meet the boss! Who, hopefully, isn’t walking frogs right now!”

“Walking frogs? Don’t give me another thing to be afraid of.”

I pushed myself up from the floor, checking beneath me to make sure I hadn’t landed in another blood puddle. Thankfully, I hadn’t. Small victories. That meant I could focus all my anxiety on the blood already covering me instead.

I glanced at Gracie’s clothes. She was splattered in pink blood too, but somehow still looked beautiful—like it didn’t even touch her, at least not in the way it touched me. Lucky. I didn’t know what I looked like, but I was pretty sure I didn’t pull it off the same way.

“Oh—and before I forget,” she added suddenly, “don’t ever mention bees to the boss.”

“What?!”

“Bees don’t exist when you’re around him.”

“Wait, like... he has the power to make bees die, or I’m just not supposed to talk about them?”

“He’s not magical. Just crazy. Bees are a touchy subject, so try not to even think about them when you’re speaking to him, okay?”

I nodded slowly, and as we stepped toward the door, one thought buzzed through my head louder than I wanted it to: Don't think about bees.