PART 8 — Return to hell
It was nearly five o'clock in the morning when we arrived at the hospital. The night's silence hung like a heavy blanket over the massive building. A single streetlamp flickered in the drizzling rain. We parked Van der Meer's car a street over in a dark alley. Thanks to my insider knowledge, I knew exactly how to reach the old water treatment pump house unseen, which connected directly to Unit 4.
The pump house's iron door was shut, but unlocked—that was the advantage of a building technically outdated for decades, where no one ever came except me. With a loud creak, I pushed the door open. A suffocating gust of chlorine and stagnant water rushed to meet us. "Stay close behind me," I whispered, switching on the flashlight. The beam cut through the thick, damp mist of the underground tunnels.
We walked through narrow sewer pipes leading to the foundation of the east wing. All around us, we heard the dripping of water and the low, rhythmic hum of heavy ventilation fans. After twenty minutes of walking, we arrived at a heavy, rusted fire door. There was no keyhole, but rather a modern electronic control panel equipped with a fingerprint scanner and a keypad.
Van der Meer sighed deeply and pulled a small device from his coat—a mobile data scanner. "This is an older generation scanner," he whispered. "If my old admin account hasn't been scrubbed from the system, I can use this to unlock the door." He connected the device to the panel. The tiny screen lit up with a flickering blue light. Granting access... it read in small letters.
The seconds ticked by like hours. From behind the door, we suddenly heard muffled voices approaching. They were close. They were patrolling the corridors of Unit 4. "Hurry!" I whispered frantically, tightening my grip on the iron pipe wrench. Suddenly, a loud beep sounded from the panel. The red light switched to green. With a heavy mechanical click, the door unlocked.
