though, that’s the point.”
“You won’t be there for long,” replied Lancer firmly, “either way about it.”
Richard adjusted his jacket casually and took a deep breath of the void full air. “I had better be off then,” he finished, giving Lancer a meaningful nod and exited hurriedly.
Lancer lowered his head slightly; possibly the only one who was fully aware of how pressing the situation really was and let two near silent words drift from his lips. “Good Luck.”
In the desert, nothing felt real and nothing existed as it should have in the real world. The gutted chapel had a harrowing absence of any sound, such a deathly silence that chilled to the bone. The guardians no longer drifted about the rafters giving that warm sense of safety that was only now appreciated that much more. Richard strode with conviction towards the door, trying to block out the overwhelming desolation calling out from every fraction of this place. It was to no avail, though, even his thoughts were empty now, with the encroaching voices of a thousand lost souls that constantly tormented him falling silent, unable or unwilling to peruse him back across the void, closer to whence they had came. He carefully pressed his fingers against the iron portal to the outside; it was ice cold to the touch and made him shiver, withdrawing the hand. Finally he heaved open the doorway and stepped out into a gloomy daylight. Richard hated how, in this place, it was never truly night. He looked to the sky but there was no sun, and no night to come. If there was it would be here already, there was only a thick sprawl of dusky clouds emitting their dull, sickly glare. Trying to put this all out of his mind, Richard closed his eyes and in the emptiness searched for her. As he did he couldn’t help but think that on some level this place was where he, and all Medians alike, were strongest. They were free from the endless threat of spirits from the Other Side, free to think clearly, and sense things through the eternity of silence that they never could have in the din of the real world. He slowly opened his eyes and realised what he had been thinking, cursing himself for it. Neither he nor any Median ever wanted to be in that place but it was an undeniable fact that it had a power over them, one so strong it could change even their deepest thoughts. It was their celestial home, the true place of the Medians, the root of what they were and all that they knew. It allowed for Richard not only to know that Hollie was there but exactly where and indeed what she was.
He looked up and down the dull, deserted street hoping beyond hope that she was, indeed, as important as they thought her to be. Eventually he set off down the street as fast as he could walk, knowing what this place could do to him as well as her and knowing how much danger they could both be in.
I-V – The Wretched
“For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living”
-Job 30:20
For every being of true goodness and light in the universe, there must be something of equal evil and darkness. This was apparent in everyday life; for every old woman helped across the road there would be one whose bag was stolen. This was more than true in the shadowy worlds which separate reality, rumoured beings in the dark regions of the emptiest desert of them all. Few had seen these things, even fewer had returned to tell of them; corrupted spirits of the long past trapped between the walls of this world and the next, driven insane by their plights. Many despised them, most feared them, but I pitied them, the Wretched condemned and damned.
A dark cloud dragged slowly across the bright, not quite full, moon and trailed off into the night sky obscuring some of the brighter stars able to shine through the city's light pollution. Michael looked down from the sky and sat back heavily in the car seat, thinking about what he was about to do. Looking across at the hospital again he could only consider what would happen if he was caught. Bodysnatching was a high crime, not to mention an utterly despicable and horrid thing to boot. He tried to remind himself that it was for the greater good and lives could be saved by carrying out the act. Although it didn’t precisely make him feel any better about the fact that he had already seen enough dead bodies get up and start walking around for one lifetime and didn’t really need to see another. He just preyed that Millaian was far away by now, better still that he was back in the land of the dead but that being thought though; he guessed that resurrected zombies weren’t the easiest beings to put back down.
Eventually swallowing his fear he opened the car door and stepped out cautiously into a yellow pool of light from one of the roads street lamps and looked over at the hospital again, sighing. He closed the door and, with a deep sense of concern for not only himself but for all those who would suffer from Millaian if he managed to succeed in his plan, he began to walk towards the building. Thoughts raced through his mind of how he was going to go about getting into the place. He doubted very much that Richard’s fire alarm trick would work again and he simply did not have the mindset needed to break into anywhere, especially anywhere such as a hospital. As he neared the A&E entrance it started to become apparent that a distraction may not even be required. Panicked people were rushing around, some with large, clotted gashes across their arms or their clothes smeared with blood. Getting closer he could see a body sprawled limply over a gurney, his throat was slit and he seemed to have several deep stab marks through his chest. Michael turned away, covering his mouth, and was nearly walked into by one of the nurses rushing round.
“You alright?” she said hurriedly, “he didn’t get you, did he?”
Michael looked at her sideways, slowly removing his hand from his mouth, shaking uncontrollably. “What? ...Uh, no,” he thought for a second and looked at her properly remembering that there were more important questions to be asked. “Who? What happened here?”
“A guy went psycho with a scalpel in there, don’t know how many people he killed in the end but he managed to mess up the chem. lab before he escaped. Whole ward’s a biohazard now!” she looked about suspiciously and came to an otherwise obvious conclusion, “wait, You’re not a patient!”
“I have family in there,” spurted Michael quickly, “I came as soon as I heard something had happened,” he paused for a second to assess if the nurse had believed him and to his surprise she apparently had. “Where did he go? This psycho guy?”
“I don’t know. The police reckon they have a trace on him. Not that you could miss him, he’s supposedly got half his face missing, although I didn’t see him myself,” she looked around again but this time rushed off to help with a patient.
Michael was left with a chill up his spine; part of him had hoped this was all a bad dream or a figment of his imagination but now that hope was gone. This was Millaians wrath and it was going to continue until he was stopped once and for all. He worked his way as silently as he could between the crowd of distressed patients and doctors alike and slipped into the deserted main reception area. The swing doors to the ward were now crisscrossed with biohazard marked yellow tape and shimmering figures of men in hazard suits lay just beyond the tinted glass. He looked carefully behind the reception desk; there was an un-taped and most likely overlooked plywood door back there. Michael didn’t like the idea as he knew very well the door was probably locked tight but on recalling the gravity of the situation he concluded that a level of civil disobedience was acceptable, after all it was nothing compared to the intended act of body snatching. He swiftly clambered over the reception desk and tried the door which was, indeed, locked firmly. Now without a second thought Michael looked around for something to force the door with. He scrambled through draws and filing cabinets but found nothing but clipboards and flimsy folders. Eventually he stopped and looked carefully at the door and then down at his feet. Abruptly he braced himself against the side wall and threw a foot as hard as he could towards the lock side of the door. Upon impact the lock splintered and flew off, leaving the door to swing open wildly into the opposite plaster wall and dig a considerable hole in the weak partition. Realising this wasn’t the quietest plan of action and that someone would be there to investigate
any second, Michael started off along the staff corridor as fast as he dared. Not being able to remember where the Morgue was, partly due to never wanting to return to the place again, he decided the way of entry had turned out to be ultimately better due to signs in this area indicating places that the public weren’t generally supposed to go, one being; The Morgue.
As he hurried along the corridors, following the signs the best he could, muffled voices could be heard of the suited inspectors getting closer. Instead of attempting to flee their approach, Michael decided to duck behind a nearby partition. Concerned partly over being discovered but mostly about being contaminated by the spilt toxins, he wanted to try and find out just how dangerous the materials really were.
Footsteps came closer and closer and soon the voices were discernable “…Over the place. We were lucky this time; sectors 3 through 7 are clean. Looks like the toxic stuff was contained to the lab” There was a short burst of static and a blip indicating that he was speaking into a radio receiver, probably to the Police or Hazard Control Agency operatives stationed outside.
“Rodger.
The Median Page 10
