The Night Shift

The fluorescent lights in Mt Hope Hospital’s third-floor corridor hummed like dying insects. Marcus pushed his supply cart past empty patient rooms. His sneakers squeaked against linoleum that never seemed truly clean, no matter how many times the cleaners said they mopped it.

3:47 AM.

The graveyard shift at Mt Hope was always quiet. Too quiet. Marcus had worked here for three years and he told himself he was used to it, that he couldn’t get another job anywhere, so he had to work the night shift. He had grown accustomed to the sounds, the shadows that moved wrong in doorways. The cold spots appeared in the hallways for no reason. Just an old building with old building things. Just his imagination working overtime on a weary mind.

He needed to get to the basement. They were running low on surgical gloves in the E.R. and his supervisor had texted him twenty minutes ago to prep for an emergency surgery. The elevator at the end of the hall waited for him. Its metal doors reflected his dark skin in a warped funhouse mirror way that made his face look too long.

Marcus laughed as he pressed the down button.

The button didn’t light up.

He pressed it again. Harder this time, his finger turning white under the pressure of the button. The plastic made a soft click but still no light. He was about to head for the stairs when he heard it. A soft ding from inside the elevator shaft and a loud rumble. The cables creaked. Something moved on the inside of the elevator shaft.

The doors slid open with a sound like a sigh.

The elevator was empty, the smell of something rotten tickled Marcus’s nose from outside the elevator. The light inside flickered a few times, then held steady. That weird off-white led color that made everyone look sick and pale. Marcus hesitated. His grandmother’s voice echoed in his head from when he was small.

“When yuh get that feeling in yuh belly, Marcus. When the hair on yuh neck stand up. Yuh listen to that. That’s is something warning yuh.”

He was 28 years old. He was a medical orderly. He didn’t believe in Jumbie, despite his stomach turning at the thought of going into the elevator. He knew better.

He stepped inside.

The doors closed behind him with a gentle thud that felt too strange, having heard the usual sound it makes. Marcus pressed B for basement. The button flickered and glowed a sickly yellow. The elevator lurched downward. He felt it in his stomach. That dropping sensation under your feet that lasted a second too long.

The numbers above the door counted down. 3. 2. 1.

Then they stopped.

The elevator stopped.

Marcus waited. He could hear his own breathing. Could smell the industrial cleaner they used on the walls mixed with something else. Something older. Like copper and rust.

He pressed B again.

Nothing.

He pressed the door open button.

Nothing.

“Come nah man.” He said it out loud just to hear a voice. Even his own in the silence of the elevator. The silence in the elevator was the kind made you aware of your own heartbeat and any little noise.

Then the lights went out. Marcus jumped with fear.

Complete darkness swallowed everything. Marcus fumbled for his phone. The phone was dancing on his fingertips, trying to get a grip. His fingers felt thick and clumsy. The screen light came on, casting harsh shadows in the small space. He swept the light around the elevator. Empty. Just him. A sigh of relief as he patted his chest.

A new smell hit him then. Sweet at first, then rotten, like a dead animal. His eyes started to water.

“Hello” A gravelly hoarse voice came from above him.

Marcus jerked his phone up toward the ceiling. The light caught nothing but yellowed panels and a ventilation grate, humming. His heart hammered against his ribs.

“W-w-w-w-ho’s there?” His voice cracked as the phone light trembled in his hand.

“I been waiting for you Marcus.” the dark voice spoke, this time from behind him. Its pitch rattled Marcus’s chest in such a tight place.

The voice was like someone talking through a mouthful of water. It came from everywhere. Marcus spun in a circle. The phone light made everything worse. Created shadows that moved with him.

“H-h-h-how do you know my name?” Marcus questioned.

A sound answered him. A sliding sound. Claw against metal. Coming from the ceiling. Marcus pointed his phone up again. One of the panels was moving. Shifting, inch by inch. Something was dragging it aside from above.

“Don’t look.” His grandmother’s voice in his memory again. “When yuh hear something in the dark that shouldn’t be there. Don’t look.”

But he couldn’t help it.

A hand emerged from the open ceiling panel, black, leathery skin. Long claws for nails, bending like it had no elbow. The fingers were too long. Each knuckle bent in the wrong direction. The skin was black like old, rotten meat. Black liquid dripped from the fingertips and hit the elevator floor with soft plops.

Marcus stumbled backward. His shoulders hit the elevator wall. The hand was followed by an arm. Then another hand. Another arm. They moved like spider legs. Finding purpose. Feeling around the elevator floor and pulling panels from the wall.

A head finally emerged. Marcus was heaving furiously, hyperventilating and sweating profusely.

At first Marcus thought it was wearing a mask. Some kind of horrible Carnival mask; the manager and staff are pranking him. Then he realized that was its face. The skin hung loose, revealing the roundness of the eyeballs through gaps under the eyes. The eyes were too big. Bulging out like they were trying to escape their sockets. Yellow and bloodshot. No eyelids that he could see.

The mouth opened. Kept opening. The jaw unhinged like a snake’s, inch by inch, slowly. Rows of teeth went back into the throat. They weren’t human teeth. They were sharp and angled inwards like a snake’s. Made for keeping things from escaping once they went in.

“You smell good tonight, Marcus.” The Jumbie’s voice bubbled up from deep in its chest. “I like that cologne you have on, it’s lively.” The Jumbie chuckled.

It dropped from the ceiling. Marcus screamed. He pressed himself further against the wall. The Jumbie landed on all fours. Its spine was bent wrong. Curved up in a hump. It wore the tattered remains of a hospital gown. The aquamarine kind patients wore. The fabric was old. Stained with things Marcus couldn’t identify.

“W-w-what are you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth like a toddler.

The Jumbie tilted its head. The movement was too fast. Too sharp. Like a bird.

“I am what comes after.” It said. “I am what waits in the spaces between. I am hunger that never fills, Marcus.”

It crawled toward him. Those too-long fingers clicking against the floor. The smell got worse. Marcus gagged as vomit crept up his throat. His phone slipped from his hand. Clattered to the floor. The light spun and pointed at the corner.

That’s when he saw them.

Other people pressed into the elevator’s corners. How had he not seen them before? They were thin. Impossibly thin. Like shadows that had learned to stand up in darkness. Their eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. Dozens of eyes. Watching.

“No no no no.” Marcus couldn’t stop saying it. He jabbed at the elevator buttons. All of them. Any of them. His fingers left sweat marks on the panel.

The Jumbie laughed. The sound was like wet meat being torn.

“The elevator doesn’t go anywhere, Marcus. Not anymore. Not for three years now.”

Three years. That’s how long Marcus had worked here. His stomach twisted.

“What do you mean?” Marcus questioned with terror on his face.

“You don’t remember, do you?” The Jumbie sped up and was right in front of him now. He could feel its breath. Cold and rotten. Could see the details of its face. The way the skin moved independently of the muscle underneath. “You don’t remember the night you died, my boy.”

“I’m not dead,” Marcus said but his voice was small, second-guessing.

“The elevator accident.” The Jumbie whispered. “Cable snapped. You fell from the third floor to the basement. They found you three days later. What was left of you, you were mangled beyond recognition from the impact. and all on your first day of the job” The Jumbie chuckled, its loose flesh shaking like jello on its face.

“No, no, no. I came to work today. I clocked in every day. I talked to Jennifer at the nurse’s station. I — “ Marcus stopped after realizing Jennifer never answered him. He thought they had words.

“You walk the same path every night Marcus. Third floor. Down the elevator. To the basement. Over and over. A loop. Don’t you think the hospital really would have a good stock of gloves by now? We’ve been watching you. Waiting for you.”

The Jumbie reached out. Its finger touched Marcus’s chest. He looked down. The finger went through his shirt. Through his skin. He could see it inside his chest. There was no blood. No pain.

Just the Jumbie’s finger fading in and out of him.

A crack appeared in the wall. Light spilled through. Not the sick fluorescent light of the hospital. Real light. Warm and golden. “No!” The creature lunged at him. Marcus didn’t move. He stood still. The thing’s hands passed through him. It screamed. A sound of rage and hunger and terrible loneliness.

“I’m ready to go.” Marcus said. “ I have to get out of here!!” The crack in the wall widened.

He could see something beyond it. Couldn’t quite make it out but it felt right. Felt like coming home after a long shift. He looked at the creature. It was crying now. Black tears down its ruined face. Marcus stepped toward the light. The creature screamed. Lunged forward. Its claws raked through the air and caught Marcus by the ankle. The touch burned cold like frostbite spreading up his leg. Marcus fell. Puzzled by why the creature can suddenly grip him.

The light vanished slowly. The crack in the wall sealed shut inch by inch as if it had never existed. “NO!” Marcus thrashed. Kicking but the Jumbie’s grip was strong. It dragged him back into the center of the elevator. The other shadows closed in around them. Pressing. Suffocating.

“Hahaha, You really think you was leaving, or that I couldn’t touch you. I made you think I would fade through you. You don’t get to leave.” The Jumbie’s face was inches from his, playfully twisting and turning with its words. Its breath washed over him.

“None of us do. You think you’re special? You think acceptance is enough?” The Jumbie taunted Marcus. The Jumbie bit into Marcus as the shadows in the corner of the elevator watched. Marcus’s screams went on until the next morning when the elevator lurched. The lights flickered back on. The doors opened to the Third floor.

Marcus stumbled out into the corridor. The Jumbie was gone, vanished from the elevator. His wounds about his body closed, knitting back together in seconds. The shadows were gone. He was alone again. His phone was back in his hand. The time read 3:47 AM.

“No no no.” He ran down the hallway. His footsteps echoed. “This isn’t real. I was just… I was going to…” He reached the nurse’s station. Jennifer sat there. Typing something into the computer. Young. 23. Indo-Trinidadian with a fair complexion. New scrubs that still had that fresh-out-of-the-package stiffness.

“Jennifer!” Marcus grabbed her shoulder. His hand passed through. She didn’t look up. Didn’t react. Just kept typing.

“Jennifer, please!” He moved in front of her. Waved his hands in her face.

“You have to listen to me! Don’t take the elevator! The elevator isn’t safe!”

She reached for her coffee cup. Her hand went through his chest. He felt nothing. She felt nothing. “JENNIFER!” Marcus continued.

She yawned. Checked her phone. Put in her earbuds. Some soca song started playing. Marcus could hear it loudly even from a distance. He heard a sound behind him. The elevator. Dinging. He turned. Watched in horror as the doors slid open. Empty. Waiting.

Jennifer looked around the corner, smiled when she saw the elevator and stood up. Stretched. She’d gotten a text that instant. Marcus could see the screen over her shoulder.

“Can you grab more IV bags from the basement? We’re running low.” the text came from the same number that asked him for the gloves.

“No,” Marcus screamed at the top of his voice. “No, please don’t.” Jennifer walked toward the elevator. She was humming along to her music. Didn’t see Marcus running beside her. Screaming at her.

“DON’T GET IN! PLEASE! THE CABLE IS GOING TO SNAP! YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!” Marcus pleaded.

She stepped inside. Marcus followed her. He had to try to stop this. Marcus pounded on the walls. On the doors. His fists made no sound. Left no mark.

“GET OUT!” Marcus screamed inches from her right ear.

Jennifer pressed B for basement. The button glowed sickly yellow. She leaned against the wall. Scrolled through her phone. Completely unaware. The doors closed. The elevator began to descend. Then Marcus heard it. Looking up, Marcus saw the Jumbie staring at him from the open panel above the elevator. Motioning him to shush with its grotesque finger on its sagging lips. The Jumbie chuckled and left to climb the elevator shaft, pounding and scraping the metal as it ascended.

That sound Marcus remembered from three years ago. The sound that still lived in his nightmares, now he understood what it finally was. High above Jennifer and Marcus in the elevator shaft. The Jumbie playfully clawed at the cables, weakening them by the second. Threads of metal gave way one by one as a sobbing Marcus screamed at an unsuspecting Jennifer.

The cable snapped and the cycle repeats itself.

Another spirit for the Jumbie to feast on every night.