by B R Grove
Gwen smiled. “Alright, let me teach it to you.”
~
The room was silent after Abby finished the last note. She stared anxiously at the judges- two students and a teacher. The students- named Marco and Elsa respectively- looked at each other before smiling and nodding. The teacher in charge, a scruffy middle-aged man named Mr. Bogart, didn’t respond.
“So?” She asked nervously. “How did I do?”
Mr. Bogart clicked his tongue thoughtfully. After what felt like an eternity up there on the stage, he responded. “You did surprisingly well.”
Ouch. Abby stared at him in confusion. “…what do you mean ‘surprisingly well’?”
He grinned. “I’m just joking. You did great.”
Abby sighed in relief as Marco and Elsa clapped.
Mr. Bogart’s smile disappeared and he spoke again. “There was one thing that I’m curious about, though…” he said as a puzzled look appeared on his face. “I recognize the song that you sang. A former student auditioned about ten years ago with that same song. How did you know it?”
Now it was Abby’s turn to look puzzled. Ten years?! Gwen must have been way older than she looked! “Was her name Gwen?”
“Yes! Gwen Martinson! You knew her?”
“I just met her today! She taught it to me during lunch, actually. I was struggling and she helped. But… she told me that she didn’t get a chance to audition with it! That’s why I used it! You’re saying that she did?” Why did she lie to me? Abby thought.
Mr. Bogart looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Even Marco and Elsa were looking at him with concern. “How did she teach it to you today?! She’s dead, Abby!”
The words hit her like a freight train. “…what?”
“Gwen Martinsson died ten years ago. She was in a car accident before the cast list came out. It was all over the news! What do you mean you saw her today?”
Abby felt nauseous. It was like her body was physically rejecting what Mr. Bogart was saying. What the hell? She thought. How could Gwen be dead? She was real! Abby saw her! She talked to her! She’d even touched her hand at one point! She was solid! Real!
“I don’t feel so good…” she murmured. She shot off the stage like lightning and ran down the aisle to the auditorium doors. Mr. Bogart yelled after her as she shoved them open and kept running. She didn’t stop.
The halls were stuffy and overcrowded. Feeling sick and claustrophobic, she ran for the doors and exited the building.
She was in the quad again. She dry-heaved as she fell to her knees next to the fountain where, just earlier that day, she’d been talking to Gwen.
She’d been talking to a dead girl. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” said a familiar voice. Abby refused to look up at Gwen, who was standing in front of her now. “I should have been honest with you. I just didn’t think you would believe me.”
“You’re dead!” Abby cried out. Gwen lowered herself onto her knees and rested a hand on Abby’s shoulder. It was translucent and cold, like water vapor on a hot day. It wasn’t the warm flesh that Abby had touched before.
“I am,” Gwen replied. “But would you have believed me if I’d told you that? I don’t think so. No one else before you did.”
Abby looked up at her. The figure before her was little more than a husk of the girl she’d seen before: gaunt and pale, and shimmery like mist. “Why did you teach me your song?”
“When I died, I didn’t move on like my parents. My failings trapped me here. In my mind, I’d failed to realize my biggest dream of singing on a stage. But now?” Gwen smiled and cupped Abby’s cheek. “You set me free.”
Abby closed her eyes. Feelings of resignation and despair overcame her; no doubt that they were Gwen’s emotions being sent into her mind. They were instantly washed away by a feeling of serenity she had never experienced.
The feeling of Gwen’s hand on her cheek vanished and Abby opened her eyes.
She was alone in the courtyard once again.
Behind the Glass
Haven is a small town in the middle of the woods. A flimsy wire fence marks the line between the town and the woods beyond, which nobody seems to know anything about. Haven’s population is only a couple thousand people, most of which have been here since the town’s creation and a couple having transferred from other places. Despite this, everybody seems content with not knowing anything, and just living their lives as mundanely as possible.
This has never sat right with me, but I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut. If I talk about it, people call me crazy or paranoid; that I’m overthinking things and so on. Liam, my best friend since fifth grade, is the only one that understands my feeling of suffocation while living here. He’s so sick of this place that he goes on long tirades about it once every day.
Today is one of those days. It’s lunchtime at Jefferson High, the only secondary school in town, and Liam and I decide to leave the premises and go for a walk. Normally he’ll rant about whatever’s on his mind for half of the trip until we get to the oak tree next to the wire fence. By then he’ll chill out and we’ll talk about what we saw on TV the night before, or share deep existential feelings with each other. I’m not usually a sentimental person, but being with Liam brings out the mushy parts of me that I’d rather didn’t exist.
This time, however, he’s still hot and bothered by the time we reach our destination. “Fuck this town!” He exclaims, plopping himself down onto one of the large rocks placed around the spot under the tree. It must’ve been a picnic spot or something, once upon a time, which makes me wonder why people stopped coming to it.
“Sure, Lee,” I reply as I sit on the rock across from him. My paper lunch bag rustles as I move it onto my lap. I open it and pulled out two Pepsi cans.
“I’m serious!” He continues as he takes one of the cans from me. He twists it open and its contents pop and fizzle. “There’s nothing to do here! It’s so boring that it’s bizarre!”
“I know, but that Pepsi’s gonna lose its fizz if you don’t drink it.”
He rolls his eyes and takes a swig. He coughs from the carbonation, immediate regret appearing on his face. “Thanks for buying this time, Tannie,” he says. “I’ll pay you back.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. I know he makes a small amount of money working at his dad’s garage, but he’s been spending it on weed again. I can tell by his smell and by how spaced out he’s been lately.
“I mean it!” He insists. “You do a lot of things for me, and I appreciate it. I really do.”
I blush and avoid his gaze as I take a sip of my pop. It’s not that I don’t care about Liam. I do. As more than just a friend, really, and I’m not happy about it. I don’t do well with squishy feelings. I never have.
He stares through the wire fence, into the woods. “What do you think is out there?”
I shrug. “I dunno, a lot of trees?”
“Well duh, but what’s beyond that? It’s gotta end somewhere, right?”
“Yeah, but…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s out there.”
“Have you ever wanted to find out?” He sets his Pepsi down on the pavement and gets up. He walks over to the fence and reaches out to touch the metal rings.
I tense up. “Don’t!”
“Why not?” He asks, “What are you scared of? It’s just a fence.”
I don’t have an answer for him. All I know is that looking beyond the flimsy wire fence and into the dark and dead forest sends a chill through me, like staring into a deep gorge and feeling a bizarre urge to jump in.
He reaches up and curls his fingers around the rings. He climbs to the top, stops to wink at me and drops down to the ground on the other side.
I don’t like this at all, but I know that I can’t just leave him. Sighing heavily, I set my pop down too and follow his lead over the fence. Twigs crunch under my feet when I land on the other side. We
survey our surroundings together, and my stomach churns. “I really don’t like this, Lee.”
He smirks and starts walking ahead. The trees are tall and thin- more like giant sticks than anything- but there’s enough of them to become a dense thicket the further you go in. His olive jacket blends into the dried-out, muted colours of the forest, and soon enough I lose sight of him.
I start to panic. “Lee? I can’t see you!”
He laughs up ahead. Anger sparks through me. Does he think this just a joke? I storm forward, brambles crunching under my feet. “This isn’t funny! Get back here!”
I hear him call back, but he’s already too far to make out what he’s saying. I turn back to look at the fence, seriously contemplating going back home. This was Liam’s stupid idea, I rage in my mind. He can find his own way back! Instead, I keep going in the direction that I heard his voice in. Curse my sentimental side- the side of me that cares so deeply about him.
It feels like hours- though it’s only been minutes- that I spend trudging through the woods after his voice. I decide to call out for him again. “Liam?”
This time, there’s nothing. Having expected a reply or a laugh, my stomach sinks. “Liam?!” I call again, louder.
Still nothing. I panic and shout as loudly as I can. “LIAM!!!”
A faint yell comes from far ahead, but it doesn’t sound like him. I don’t know what it is, and I’m starting to hyperventilate. Just then, the twigs on the ground behind me crunch, and I’m aware of a presence. I sigh in relief, and turn to give Liam a piece of my mind.
It’s not him. Instead, a girl I don’t recognize is standing behind me. She’s only wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans- not fit for cold autumn weather by any means- and her pale skin is tinged a sickly green hue. Her long blonde hair hangs, stringy and lifeless, past her elbows. Her eyes are white like clouded glass, and they seem to stare blankly through me.
I want to say something, or scream. Anything, really, but I’m frozen.
Her mouth falls open and a stream of white foam drips out. She lets out a guttural screech and lunges at me.
I’m startled back into movement, and I scream and stumble back. She barely misses, and I take off running, not watching where I’m going. All I’m focusing on is getting the fuck away from her. Leaves crunch as she gains on me, and I feel like I’m going to pass out from fear. I shout Liam’s name again, though part of me knows that I won’t get an answer.
A force slams into me from behind and I fly face first into the ground. Twigs cut my skin and I struggle to push myself up, but the girl’s weight is on top of me. She grabs me by my hair, digging her fingers into my scalp and jerks my head back. She sinks her teeth into my throat and I scream louder than I thought I could. The pain is unbearable, like a million tiny needles cutting into my flesh and gouging themselves deeper and deeper inside of me. I thrash my arms around, looking to grab a stick or something- anything- to get her off of me. My cries piddle down into hiccupping sobs. I’m going to die. Oh god, I’m going to die.
A loud cracking sound echoes through the woods. There’s a thud of a body hitting the ground, and the weight on my back is lifted. Feebly, I turn and look back, only to see the girl, lying on her back, motionless, on the forest floor. Black, curdled blood oozes out of a hole in her forehead. She’s been shot!
I whimper and try sit up, but it’s like all my strength has been sucked out of me. My vision starts to blur. The last thing I see is a pair of combat boots stepping in front of me before everything turns black.
~
Waking up is a slow process, like my whole body is rebooting. My muscles take their sweet time to catch up to my brain, which registers the faint, repetitive beep of a heart monitor. I open my eyes.
The room is dark and the walls are a metallic grey. I blink repeatedly until the bleariness of my vision fades. I’m in a hospital room of some kind, though it looks nothing like the ones in Haven’s General Hospital. Those are sterile and white, but they feel warmer than this room.
I try sitting up, but my hands and feet are tied to my bed frame by leather straps. Panicking, I yank them back and forth, desperately trying to loosen my binds. After a full minute of my skin being rubbed raw, I manage to pull my right hand through the loop halfway. Breathing deep and rhythmically, I yank once more and I’m free. Not wasting another second, I work on freeing my other limbs.
Once I’m free, I sit and ponder my situation. Why was I tied down in the first place? I remember the dead-eyed girl in the woods, and the sheer agony of her biting into my flesh. I shudder and reach up to touch my wound. I’m greeted with a gauze bandage taped over the damaged area. The prickles of a stitch poke through when I lightly press down. It causes a dull ache, so I stop. Instead, I turn my focus onto escaping.
I lower my feet onto the cold tile floor. My clothes have been replaced by a white paper gown, and I don’t see them anywhere in the room. I decide to go without them, and steady my shaking legs before letting go of the bed’s railing. I slink over to the dark-grey steel door. Grasping the doorknob, my breath catches as I slowly turn it. Please don’t be locked.
It clicks open, and I sigh in relief. I push it open slowly and peek outside. The halls are empty and silent. I exit the room as quietly as I can, closing the door behind me.
Large shadows loom across the concrete walls, adding to my anxiety. Faint sounds come from up ahead- groans and murmurs, and occasional sobs. There are other people here, and they sound like they’re in pain. I brace myself for the horrors that lie ahead, and continue forward.
The walls change from concrete to textured glass. I follow it down the hall and see that multiple wings are visible, if only vaguely, and are separated from each other by walls. I can make out the shapes of people all dressed the same gowns as me.
In the first section, the people are cloistered together against the wall or on the floor. The sobs are coming from this room. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but they sound like pleas for help. My stomach clenches, and I keep going. It’s the same for the next two sections, until I get to section 4. I stop in my tracks, confused by what I’m seeing. Patients are ambling through the halls, either alone or being carted around by other people in what look like white hazmat suits.
What the hell? I move to the last section, expecting to see more of the same. Instead, I’m greeted with a familiar white-eyed stare. I nearly jump out of my skin.
It’s a man- at least I think it’s a man- and his face is pressed against the glass. He mouths at the glass, breathing heavily and leaving behind a thick smear of blood. I back away until I’m against the concrete wall behind me. I look up and see that the entire wall of Section 5 is stained with blood, some in the shapes of handprints. I clasp my hand over my mouth to stop from screaming.
Footsteps echo on my left, and I flatten myself against the wall. A door handle jams into my back, and I grab it and fling open the door. I slip inside and close it just as two people walk by dressed in white lab coats. They keep going until their voices fade away, and I sigh in relief.
A foul smell enters my nose and I gag. I turn around to see what room I’ve entered, and I have to stop myself from screaming a second time.
I’m in some kind of morgue. Rows of bodies on tables fill the room, each one in some state of decay. I spot the one closest to me- the most recent addition, I assume- and feel my throat close.
It’s Liam. He’s naked, covered up to his shoulders by a paper sheet. His body is rigid and colourless, his lips pale purple and his eyes glassy and unseeing. His irises are clouded, just like the girl from the woods.
Just like the man behind the glass…
Fighting the urge to vomit, I scan the dark room for some kind of exit. There’s another door in the back, and I rush over to it and go inside. It’s an office, no bigger than a closet and cluttered with stacks of books and papers. A box-like computer sits in the middle of the messy desk, sticking out like a beacon of hope.
I close the door behind
me and sit in the plush leather chair. I click the mouse twice and luckily it’s already signed into an account. I open the documents file and scan the names. Maybe I can find a floor plan or something, and find a way out of here…
I don’t see any floor plans, but I do see files upon files of patients. Curiously, I click one and start to read.
Patient #1347B.
Full Name: Theryn Freeman
Previous Location: Haven #3 (Previously Greater Toronto Area)
Condition: Critical
A photo of the patient loads next to the name, and my blood runs cold. It’s her. The girl from the woods. The one who bit me, and possibly killed Liam. The document says she’s from ‘Haven #3’. What does that mean? She’s certainly not from my Haven. Are there others? If there are, why are they numbered like this? Like…camps? I keep reading, shaken but determined to find answers.
Treatments:
Tetanus Shot (FAILED)
HRIG & Vaccine (FAILED)
Blood Transfusions (FAILED)
Adrenaline Shot (FAILED)
On October 13th the patient reached the late stage of Transmutation virus. The use of Blood Transfusions (attempt only in late term infection) is unsuccessful. Flesh around bite wound has begun to rot and rigor mortis has set in. Eyes have begun to cloud. Death and resurrection are imminent. Terminate as soon as possible.
UPDATE (10/30/XX): Termination successful. Virus has spread to two others, Patients #1348B and #1349B. Treatments will commence immediately. Details available in separate files.
I shiver again when I see the date of that update. It’s the day Liam and I sat at our spot together; the day I followed him over the fence. How long ago was it? How much time has passed since I passed out?
The flesh rotted around the place she was bitten. My skin crawls and I instinctively touch my own bandaged wound. It doesn’t hurt when I push on it this time, and that worries me. Is it starting to rot? Am I turning into what Theryn Newman was? What Liam maybe is?
This infection…what is it? Is there even a cure? There are a lot of treatments, based on what I read, but none of them were successful.
