Poker Night Transcript #3

Poker Night Session 3 Friday, September 9, 1999 Keeper: Doug Iannelli Lt. Chance Boudreaux: Jared Fialkow Saturday, December 20th, 1997. 1115 hours. . .

Keeper:	Sitting in your office, basking in the returned silence of your infirmary, you begin the laborious process of recounting the events as they transpired in the assessment and treatment of the young sailor now lying comatose in your trauma bay. Before you lay stacks of paperwork, ranging from official DoD medical forms to scraps of information scribbled on assorted bits of paper by Spacek, your corpsman. Barely audible above the muted howl of the wind across the exterior of the building is the slow, rhythmic beep of Fuller's monitor down the hall.

Boudreaux:	How does he seem to be doing?

Keeper:	At last check, just before you began the process of documenting the incident, the man's condition remained unchanged.

Boudreaux:	Good. Well, I start the arduous task of paperwork.

Keeper:	You are immersed in your work about ten minutes when you are startled by a lound BANG!, somewhere in the rear of the infirmary.

Boudreaux:	"Damn! . . . what now?"

Keeper:	BANG! . . . there it is again. It seems. . . muffled.

Boudreaux:	I get up and quietly move to check it out.

Keeper:	Cautiously moving down the hallway, the emergency areas merge into view. There lies Fuller, silent, just as you left him. Accompanied only by the symphony of the bleating wind, the gentle hiss of air being artificially injected into and removed from his lungs, and the steady beep of the cardiac monitor; the green signature spiking and receding in a normal sinus rhythm in the dimly-lit bay. beep. . . beep. . . beep. . . BANG!

Boudreaux:	Does the noise sound like it came from this area or further on? I attempt to move closer to the noise.

Keeper:	Make a Listen roll.

LISTEN roll for Boudreaux:	(1d100) = 73 [failure]

Keeper:	Distracted as you were from your observations of Fuller, you spin around and peer about the rear of the infirmary, but you are unable to pinpoint the direction or source of the unusual noise. beep. . . beep. . . beep. . . beep. . . beep. . . BANG!

Boudreaux:	I move to the rear of the infirmary and reattempt to isolate the source of the noise. Does it sound like something striking metal. . . perhaps something outside?

LISTEN roll for Boudreaux:	(1d100) = 71 [failure]

Boudreaux:	Aargh.

Keeper:	Between the constant dirge of the wind outside and your rattled nerves, it's difficult to tell. Scanning the infirmary, everything appears to be in order with nothing obviously out of place.

Boudreaux:	Is this area mostly open?

Keeper:	Yes. The rear area of the first floor, beyond the hallway, is an open area with ceiling-mounted curtains separating the gurneys in the bays. The stairs and supply shelves are the only other features; on the far wall. beep. . . beep. . . beep. . .

Boudreaux:	Hmmm. Does it seem to be on this floor? Or perhaps from above? I will remain still and just see if I can identify anything about the noise.

Keeper:	beep. . . beep. . . beep. . . BANG!

LISTEN roll for Boudreaux:	(1d100) = 22 [success]

Boudreaux:	Hallelujah. . .

Keeper:	Head jerking rapidly in response to the expected, yet unnerving recurrence of the noise, you find yourself staring at the west wall of the trauma bay.

Boudreaux:	I move that way. Quietly.

Keeper:	The main features of the west wall, besides the oxygen ports and mounted suctioning equipment and diagnostic tools, are several windows and the side entrance to the emergency area, feeding out to the old ambulance drive. BANG! beep. . . beep. . .

Boudreaux:	I move to the door . . . and listen.

Keeper:	beep. . . beep . . . beep. . .

Boudreaux:	Does it sound like it's coming from the ambulance area? Is the door locked?

Keeper:	BANG! Yes. . . it's outside. The source of the noise is definately coming from outside the infirmary, somewhere in the area of the old ambulance drive between the MTF and the motor pool. The door is self-locking, but opens with simple panic hardware from the interior.

Boudreaux:	I will open it, just enough to see outside.

Keeper:	Cracking open the door, the howl of the wind increases in volume as the barrier previously insulating you from it is pierced. Your unprotected body is shocked by the sudden, drastic drop in temperature. You have to struggle to maintain control of the door, lest it fly loose and contribute it's own noisy clamor to that being generated from somewhere outside. From your limited vantage point, you are unable to get a visual on the potential source of the noise.

Boudreaux:	Steeling myself against the cold, I move outside.

Keeper:	BANG! It occurs again, and this time you are able to isolate it: somewhere off to your left.

Boudreaux:	I head in that direction.

Keeper:	Wading through the erratic wind in the alley, you make your way down the ramp. The man-door of the old ambulance garage has blown open and is being driven by the wind against an adjacent fifty-five gallon drum. As you move closer, you observe gusts of wind play with the door for a few moments, drifting the door open a little, then closed a little before BANG!, a counter-gust whipping through the artificial valley created by the infimary and the motor pool drives the door wildly against the overturned barrel.

Boudreaux:	Was the door locked before?

Keeper:	Yes, it is normally kept locked. It no longer serves any medically-related function.

Boudreaux:	Well, I'm a little paranoid now, so I move with caution. I want to see what's in the garage and at least shut the damned door.

Keeper:	Moving closer, the interior of the garage is piled high with drums to within a few feet of the ceiling. The light from the structure's windows plays irregularly through the scant spaces between the dark, metallic columns. There doesn't appear to be enough room for a man to navigate within the building, even along the walls. A fresh gust of wind against the door nearly catapults you into the drums within. Attempting to reshut the door, you notice that the dead-bolt is still extended.

Boudreaux:	What about the attachment on the wall. . . where it locks?

Keeper:	Glancing over to the catch in the doorframe through wind-stung eyes, you see that the wood along the frame is splintered and that the catch rests loosely within its bored recess. A current of air feeds out from the open threshold, accompanied by a shrill, whistling moan.

Boudreaux:	(thinking to himself) "Something ripped it out. . . could be the wind, but. . ." Do I see anything inside the garage? Have any of the drums been moved recently (if I can even tell)?

Keeper:	The drums appear neatly aligned, piled five high, with slats of plywood between each level. From the door, it does not appear that any of the columns are over- turned. There's scantly room for them to move should they tip, however.

Boudreaux:	What about height? How tall are they? Could someone crawl around them?

Keeper:	Another counter-gust slams the open door against you.

Boudreaux:	I move inside as far as I can go.

Keeper:	Individually, the drums are just under four-feet in height. Collectively, in columns, they reach up nearly twenty-feet up into the darkness. The exterior of the garage indicates about a twenty-foot ceiling height. There is no room for you to proceed into the garage on the ground.

Boudreaux:	Is there anything I can use to wedge the door shut?

Keeper:	There are several drums laying about the front exterior and side of the garage.

Boudreaux:	I will try to shut the door and hold it in place with a drum or two.

Keeper:	You find a couple full and partially-full drums nearby. Rolling them on end, you are able to provide sufficient counterweight to stay the door.

Boudreaux:	Does the ambulance garage open into the medical facility?

Keeper:	No, it is a separate structure that feeds onto a small drive running parallel to the infirmary on the west side. A small alleyway, cluttered with debris, separates the two buildings. It is beginning to be become uncomfortably cold and your fingers are becoming painfully numb.

Boudreaux:	How strong does the lock look like it was? Could the wind have ripped it off? Are there any signs that someone was tampering with it?

Keeper:	The lock is fairly sturdy in appearance, but the jamb on the door is wooden, so yes, it is a possibility that the wind could have caused the damage. The force of the wind would have had to have been applied from the interior side of the door, however. There is no obvious indication that entry was forced from the exterior.

Boudreaux:	Okay. Well, I'll follow my own advice and get out of the cold. I head back inside. Do I, by chance, pass the alleyway?

Keeper:	Yes, if you are referring to the one that separates the infirmary from the garage. It is in line with the ramp you must climb to return to the side door of the infirmary.

Boudreaux:	As I pass it, I look look inside for a second just to see what's down there.

Keeper:	The alleyway is cluttered with more fifty-five gallon drums and other assorted debris, mostly from the motor pool. It runs the length of the garage before opening up at the rear just short of line of cyclone fencing.

Boudreaux:	Is there a door to the rear of the garage? Is it opened?

Keeper:	No, just windows, you think. You've never had occasion to go back there before.

Boudreaux:	I turn and head back inside to check on Fuller.

Keeper:	Returning to the warmth of the infirmary, you find yourself subconsciously exercising your fingers to return the sensation deprived of them during your brief foray out into the cold.

Boudreaux:	(shaking his head and mumbling to himself) "Nice weather. . ."

Keeper:	The young man remains unchanged, silent features hopefully masking the dreams that would indicate some continued brain activity. You'll feel much better about his condition once he's under the care of specialists in a true medical center, you think to yourself.

Boudreaux:	Well, I'm not really in the mood to do paperwork. I'll walk the infirmary. . . check everything out.

Keeper:	(Describe your movements to me so that I can relay your observations.)

Boudreaux:	I'll start off searching the ground floor. . . all the rooms and offices, checking doors and windows and closets.

Keeper:	Moving out of the emergency area, you make your way along the hall toward the north end of the infirmary.

Keeper:	The first open door you pass, on the left, is your office. Half-hoping that the abundance of paperwork scattered across your desk would have somehow miraculously diminished, you observe that you are the recipient of no such luck. Everything appears undisturbed since you left the room. In the background, there is the monotonous beep of Fuller's monitor . . . beep. . .

Boudreaux:	I keep moving, keeping both my ears and my eyes open, to check out the other office and rooms.

Keeper:	The next room, across the hall from yours, is also open: Spacek's office. It is empty and in the same condition you remember from earlier in the morning. Outside, the wind howls and moans, playing tricks on your senses.

Boudreaux:	"I gotta get out of this damn place."

Keeper:	beep. . .

Boudreaux:	I continue down the hall.

Keeper:	One by one, you peer into the four exam rooms. They are each pristine, having not seen use in your memory.

Boudreaux:	I move on to check the front entrance to the facility.

Keeper:	Approaching the northern end of the hall, you briefly open the lavatory door before moving out into the reception area. The front door is shut and the room is barren save for the reception desk and a collection of chairs.

Boudreaux:	I check the front door.

Keeper:	The front door is securely shut, but unlocked, as is normal during business hours.

Boudreaux:	I want to briefly run upstairs and just take a look around.

Keeper:	Retracing your steps back down the hall, it opens out into the emergency bays. The sounds of Fuller's monitor and respirator returning some calming point of reference to your now overreactive imagination. beep. . . sssssssssss. . . beep. . .

Keeper:	The bays are still and all is in order since Spacek labored to clean up the mess in the trauma area which now contains the immobile form of Fuller.

Boudreaux:	(whispering to himself) "Okay. . . good."

Keeper:	Passing plexiglass-paned shelves and cabinets toward the rear of the infirmary, you begin to ascend the stairs. . . . ssssssssss. . . beep. . .

Keeper:	The stairwell is darker than you'd like.

Boudreaux:	I turn on the lights.

Keeper:	The flourescent bulb flickers to life, illuminating your way upstairs. beep. . . beep. . . ssssssssss. . .

Boudreaux:	Boudreaux wishes he had a gun. Just to settle his nerves.

Keeper:	The building creaks in the wind.

Boudreaux:	I quietly make my way up to the second floor to check the windows and see if anything else catches my attention.

Keeper:	Rounding the landing midway up the stairs, you reach the top and the dim expanse of the second floor opens before you. Empty beds line walls between evenly-spaced windows whose curtains dampen the flow of light from outside. Up here, with little between you and the roof, the murmur of air moving across the building assumes an unnerving, almost ululating character. From behind and below you, the comfort provided by sounds indicating that you are not alone in the infirmary is faded. . . . beep. . . beep. . . beep. . .