The Heavy Sleep

Pressure. A massive block of dense stone resting directly on her sternum. Maya forced her eyes open. Her eyelids scraped against her eyes like sandpaper. The ceiling tiles slowly came into focus. White squares filled with tiny perforations. The dull drone of the climate control unit vibrated through the floorboards. She tried to sit up. Her spine completely refused to bend. She commanded her arms to lift. Her muscles remained entirely dormant.

Panic spiked. She recognized this feeling instantly. Sleep paralysis.

Her brain was awake but her body remained stubbornly trapped in the chemical lockdown of deep sleep. She was a prisoner inside her own skin.

She could only move her eyes. She rolled them frantically to the left.

Marcus occupied the bed across the room. He was just a heavy lump beneath a thick white duvet. Beyond him lay Jenna. The pale glow of a smartphone screen illuminated Jenna from the chin up. Jenna was completely awake. She was scrolling through videos, totally oblivious to the rest of the room.

They were sealed inside the communal observation ward of the Somnus Institute. A luxury facility designed to cure severe insomnia. The brochure had promised absolute isolation. Heavy vault doors. Thick acoustic panel walls. A strictly controlled environment physically locked from midnight until dawn to prevent sleepwalking incidents. No staff interruptions. Just eight hours of enforced rest.

Maya rolled her eyes to the right.

Someone was standing near the door.

The figure was absolutely not Dr Evans. The silhouette was too tall and far too broad. The man stepped forward out of the shadows. The green light from the emergency exit sign fell across his face. He wore the gray uniform of the night maintenance crew. His expression was completely blank. He held a drywall saw in his right hand. The jagged metal teeth of the blade caught the dim light.

Maya screamed.

Nothing happened. No sound left her throat. Her lips did not even part. She was suffocating on her own terror.

The man walked slowly toward Marcus.

"Wake up. Please wake up," Maya pleaded with her own paralyzed body. She focused every ounce of her willpower on her left index finger.

"Twitch. Just twitch."

The maintenance worker stopped at the foot of Marcus bed. He looked down at the sleeping man. Marcus shifted under the covers, mumbling something incoherent. The worker raised the saw. He brought it down across the neck of Marcus in one brutal tearing motion.

Maya watched the dark liquid erupt across the sterile white sheets. It sprayed the pristine wall. Marcus convulsed violently. His legs kicked hard against the mattress. The worker leaned his heavy weight forward, pressing a thick gloved hand directly over the mouth of Marcus to muffle the terrible gargling sounds. It took less than a minute. Marcus went perfectly still.

The worker stood up straight. He looked at the thick blood coating his gloves. He wiped his hands casually on his gray pants.

He turned toward Jenna.

Jenna was still staring at her phone. She wore large sound isolating headphones. She had bragged about them earlier that evening. She said they blocked out everything in the world. Maya saw the fatal error now. Jenna was completely detached from her physical environment.

Maya pushed mentally against the invisible weight crushing her chest. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her temple.

"Move."

The killer approached Jenna from behind. He moved with casual efficiency. No rushed steps. He knew the room was perfectly soundproof. He knew the outer doors were magnetically locked until six in the morning. They were trapped in a box with him.

He reached down and grabbed a massive fistful of hair. He yanked her head violently backward.

Jenna dropped her phone. It clattered against the floor. Her eyes went wide with sudden shock. Before she could process the violent intrusion, the serrated blade dragged deeply across her throat.

Maya watched her friend die. The reality of the violence was stark and ugly. There was no dramatic music. There was only the wet tearing of flesh and the sickening thud of a hand hitting the floorboards.

The killer let Jenna fall away. He turned his head slowly. He looked directly across the room at Maya.

He smiled.

He knew. He knew she was awake and watching everything.

He stepped over the body and began walking toward her bed.

Pure adrenaline finally flooded the nervous system of Maya. The chemical shockwave hit her dormant muscles. Her right foot jerked. The paralysis shattered instantly. She threw herself violently off the mattress just as the man swung the saw at her face. The heavy blade ripped through her pillow, scattering white synthetic feathers into the air.

Maya hit the floor hard. Her knees bruised against the laminate. She scrambled backward like a crab, putting vital distance between them.

The killer casually pulled the blade out of the mattress. He did not rush. He simply turned to face her.

Maya got to her feet. Her legs felt incredibly heavy, still sluggish from the violently interrupted sleep cycle. She ran for the heavy acoustic door. She grabbed the handle and yanked downward. It opened. She threw herself out into the main hallway.

The corridor was brightly lit. It stretched out in a long sweeping curve. White walls. White floors. Countless doors leading to other observation rooms. All of them were completely empty tonight. It was just their trial group in the facility.

She heard the heavy door of their ward pull open behind her.

Maya ran. She did not look back. She desperately needed a weapon. She needed an exit. She reached the end of the hall and hit the heavy glass doors leading to the main lobby. She slammed her hands against the thick glass. Locked. A solid magnetic plate held the doors firmly shut. A digital keypad glowed red on the wall.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind her. Slow heavy steps.

Maya abandoned the glass doors. She ducked into an intersecting corridor. She read the plastic signs on the walls. Hydrotherapy. Storage. Staff Breakroom.

She chose the breakroom. She pushed the door open and slipped inside, letting the heavy wood close quietly behind her.

The room was completely dark. The only light came from the digital clock on the microwave. 3:14 AM. Almost three hours until the automated building locks released.

She crouched behind a heavy wooden dining table in the center of the room. Her lungs burned for air. She forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose. Silence was her only remaining advantage.

She scanned the dark room. A large coffee maker. A tall refrigerator. A wooden block of kitchen knives sitting on the counter.

She crawled toward the counter, keeping her head well below the level of the small window built into the door. She reached up and pulled the largest chef knife from the wooden block. It felt heavy and solid in her sweaty grip.

A dark shadow fell across the frosted glass of the breakroom door.

Maya stopped breathing.

The brass door handle turned slowly. The door pushed open.

The killer stepped into the room. He reached out and flicked the wall switch. Searing fluorescent light flooded the space.

Maya pressed her back tightly against the lower cabinets. She clutched the knife handle until her fingers ached.

The killer walked further into the room. She could see his black boots from her hiding spot. They stopped near the refrigerator. He opened the tall appliance. A glass bottle clinked against the shelves. He pulled out a bottle of water, cracked the plastic seal loudly, and took a long drink.

He was hunting her but he was completely relaxed. He was simply killing time. He tossed the empty plastic bottle onto the counter. It rolled and hit the wall with a hollow thud.

"It is incredibly quiet tonight," he spoke suddenly. His voice was flat and gravelly. He was not talking to her specifically. He was just talking to the empty room.

"They tell you patients that the silence brings peace. They lie. The silence is when the rotting starts. I have mopped these floors every night for four years. I have not slept a single hour since I started. My blood feels like battery acid. My brain is turning into dust."

Maya noticed a small metal utility cart nearby. It was loaded with dirty coffee mugs and plates. If she shoved it at him, it might give her a single second to strike.

The boots moved away from the fridge. They turned toward her side of the island counter.

Maya braced her legs against the floor. She gripped the knife handle with both hands.

He stepped around the corner.

Maya lunged upward. She drove the chef knife forward with all her weight, aiming directly for his stomach.

The killer reacted with terrifying speed. He stepped quickly backward and batted her arms away with his thick forearm. The knife slipped from her grip and clattered loudly across the linoleum floor.

He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her hard against the refrigerator door.

The impact knocked the wind entirely out of her lungs. She clawed at his thick hands, but his grip was like iron. Black spots danced rapidly in her vision.

"You wealthy people pay a fortune just to close your eyes," he whispered, leaning his face close to hers. His breath smelled like old copper and stale coffee. "It is just not fair that you get to rest while I burn alive in my own head. I am giving all of you the permanent cure."

Maya kicked her legs wildly. Her left foot connected solidly with his knee cap. He grunted and his grip loosened for a fraction of a single second.

She twisted her body violently out of his grasp and bolted for the open door. She felt the fabric of her shirt tear loudly as he tried to grab her shoulder.

She spilled back out into the bright hallway. The hydrotherapy room was directly across from her. She pushed through the swinging double doors and locked the deadbolt from the inside.

The room smelled strongly of chlorine and ozone. A massive flotation tank sat in the exact center of the room, resembling a large white egg. Rows of smaller sensory deprivation pods lined the tiled walls.

A heavy thud shook the double doors. He was kicking them. The metal deadbolt would not hold him for long.

Maya looked desperately for another way out. There were absolutely no windows. Only a metal air vent near the ceiling, far too small to crawl through. She was entirely cornered.

She needed to build a trap.

She ran to the main control panel on the wall. She turned the master dials for all the sensory pods to maximum heat and activated the self cleaning cycles. The room immediately filled with the incredibly loud hum of industrial water pumps and a thick layer of dense white steam.

She opened the heavy lid of the central flotation tank. The dense salt water inside was completely dark. She grabbed a heavy steel wrench from a rolling maintenance cart resting nearby.

The double doors splintered violently. The metal lock casing tore completely out of the wood. The killer walked slowly into the humid room.

The thick steam obscured his vision. The mechanical noise of the heavy pumps masked the movements of Maya.

She climbed quietly into the flotation tank, letting herself sink deep into the dense salt water. She kept the wrench gripped tight in her right hand. She pulled the lid closed above her, leaving a tiny gap just wide enough to see through.

She floated in the absolute darkness of the pod, suspended perfectly in the warm water.

She waited.

She heard his heavy boots clicking slowly against the wet floor tiles. The sound faded in and out over the mechanical roar of the pumps. He was opening the other pods, checking them one by one. The heavy lids slammed shut. Bang. Bang.

He was getting much closer.

Maya regulated her breathing carefully. She could not afford to make a single splash in the water. The salt water stung the small fresh cuts on her arms.

A large shadow crossed the narrow gap of her lid.

He stopped right outside her tank.

Maya stared straight upward, watching his thick fingers curl under the edge of the lid.

"You cannot hide from the insomnia," he muttered just outside the pod. "It finds everyone eventually."

He pulled the lid completely open. The harsh overhead lights blinded her for a crucial moment. He leaned over the edge, looking down into the dark water.

Maya erupted upward from the water. She swung the heavy steel wrench with every single ounce of strength left in her body.

The solid steel crushed his nose and cheekbone with a sickening crack. The violent impact sent him staggering wildly backward. He dropped his saw and crashed onto the wet floor tiles.

Maya scrambled frantically out of the tank. She did not stop to look at him. She grabbed his fallen saw from the floor.

He was trying to sit up. His face was a ruined mess of dark blood and shattered bone. He reached out blindly for her ankle.

Maya stepped back and kicked him squarely in the chest, pushing him flat onto his back. She stood over him, breathing heavily. He looked up at her, blood pouring directly into his eyes.

She did not hesitate. She swung the saw downward.

She dropped the bloody weapon on the floor. Her entire body shook uncontrollably. The industrial pumps continued to roar loudly around her. The hot steam clung tightly to her wet clothes.

She walked slowly over to his body and searched his uniform pockets. She found the thick plastic magnetic keycard.

Maya left the hydrotherapy room. She walked back down the long white corridor, past the dark breakroom, past the observation ward where her friends lay dead. She did not look inside the room.

She reached the heavy glass lobby doors. She pressed the keycard flat against the wall reader.

The magnetic lock disengaged with a loud heavy click.

Maya pushed the doors open and walked out into the cold night air.