by G Johanson
Inès remained in the staffroom long after her shift finished. By seven in the evening the staff numbers were greatly reduced and Inès acted as instructed, pricking her finger and letting droplets of her blood hit the floor. She read out the incantation quietly and looked around. There was no sign of the creature at first and it was only when she wandered down the corridor that she felt something behind her as it appeared from nowhere, visible to her upon looking over her shoulder. She spun around fully and saw that it had grown and was now several inches taller than her, though it remained skeletally thin. Its mouth was open a fraction and it looked into her eyes before turning to examine its surroundings. It stood at the opening to the healthiest ward, deliberating where to go first, mentally assessing the suitability and frailty of potential food sources.
The door to the ward pushed open and the creature retreated sharply and crouched on the floor, looking up at the nurse who appeared. Inès felt herself sweating profusely and the nurse (who she didn’t know) asked her, “Who are you?”
“Inès. I work days,” she gulped.
“Then what are you doing here now? Get home,” the nurse said, querying her strange behaviour with a quizzical expression. She walked down the corridor, unbelievably not even noticing the creature. Inès walked out of the front door and pondered what the night would bring and what would await her in the morning.
In Nann Royer’s old unit a book had been started, in highly dubious taste, on which of them would go loopy first. Royer’s odds were slim and nobody took a punt on such a long shot. A robust figure, in build and character, his decline came unexpectedly and appeared to be as a result of an act of valour. In capturing an enemy outpost Royer had engaged a young German in a close quarters fight, saving the life of a comrade in the process. In this contest Royer had found himself closer than he had ever been to the enemy before, close enough to bayonet the teenage boy in the face. While it was impossible to be certain that this incident was the catalyst for his mental collapse, it was clear that things began to deteriorate in the days and weeks that followed. Time away from the front had not helped one iota and his future was still being decided when he came down with Influenza, delaying his second psychological assessment. His peers had already deemed him a lunatic, as much a casualty of the war as those in the ground. As such nobody listened to him or heeded his warnings. Nobody bar one.
Georges Steil had the job of being Royer’s counsel, a position which nobody else wanted and which Georges didn’t mind a jot usually, though if it included another rude awakening like the one he just received he would have to think about resigning. He hadn’t even been asleep an hour when Royer jumped astride him, unintentionally kneeing him in the groin before he began shaking him, gripping onto his pyjama top with both hands and lifting him up and down. Georges gasped and said, “I’m awake, Nann, calm down.”
“You’ve got to come with me now!” Royer said frenziedly.
“Two minutes,” Georges proposed.
“Now. There’s something out there,” Royer said, his terror compelling Georges to get up before he was ready because he saw that Royer would not be able to wait. He didn’t even have the energy to mask his pain, the simplest of spells beyond him nowadays without monumental effort, and he stooped as he walked out of the ward with Royer. Another patient advised Georges to get back to bed, trying to keep him out of trouble, not an option as Georges had to keep an eye on Royer. He was the only one Royer paid any attention to, largely because they weren’t that far apart in thought, with Georges viewing Royer as a few steps closer to coherence than he himself was.
Once out of the ward and in the corridor Georges whispered in Royer’s ear, “What did you see?”
Royer extended his arms out ahead of him and opened his mouth as far as he could. This passed as his description and Georges indulged him, saying, “We’ll both look for it together and if we can’t find it we’ll head back to bed before the nurses spot us.”
Royer shook his head repeatedly. “It’s here.”
“I know. But if we can’t find it that means it’s gone and we can go back to sleep.”
“No.”
“It’s pointless looking then,” Georges said, opening the door back to the ward. He paused at the door and looked to Royer’s dejected face and he said, “If I can’t find it with my mystical mojo that means it’s gone. Nobody or nothing beats me at hide and seek. Deal?”
Royer nodded and Georges insisted they shook on it before they set off down the first darkened corridor. Royer felt calmer in Georges’ presence and insisted upon going ahead, looking out for him due to his age and because he was the only one who understood him. Georges asked him more about the creature and Royer told Georges that the thing had been poised at the bottom of his bed before he startled it and it ran off. He described it as naked as a newborn though lacking in genitalia, a bald, hairless, slimy looking thing, as thin as a rake and utterly hideous. Royer said it was not quite as tall as him, though was taller than Georges.
“So it could be a dwarf then?” Georges joked.
“No, no, it was taller than that,” Royer said, taking his words literally.
Georges and Royer continued their search and faced an inquisition in the recovery ward. Most of these men were almost ready to be discharged and did not accept the entry onto the ward of sicker patients, especially when they spotted that the lunatic was one of them. They quickly left, with Royer reasonably satisfied that the monster was not present and they explored the upper floor. The matron’s office was locked and Royer pointed inside and said, “If we don’t check that room we can’t know for sure.”
“No problem,” Georges said, not so weak that he could not mentally pick the lock. It was only afterwards that he realised he would not be able to lock the door after them. The room was empty, as was the operating theatre and each of the other rooms they searched. After almost getting caught by a nurse on her rounds, which involved hiding in the toilets for twenty minutes, they tried the critical ward. They had both been patients here themselves previously and the ward did not hold happy memories. Back then if Royer had wanted him to scour the hospital for monsters Georges would have had to send him off on his own because walking wasn’t a viable option then. Seeing these men showed he had little to complain about, particularly when he noticed that two men had passed over, and from their faces the passing had not been smooth. Georges questioned whether he should inform the staff. He opted against doing so; they performed hourly rounds of the ward and would find them shortly and it wasn’t as though anything further could be done for them.
There was only one room left to check, one that tested Royer’s courage to its limit. The morgue was a challenge for him but he still took the lead and searched in every nook and cranny. They had searched the hospital from top to bottom and, bar finding that the matron had a spare pair of bloomers in her drawers, they had found nothing unusual (the discovery of the two corpses was, sadly, routine). Royer maintained that the creature could still be in the building and Georges reminded him of their handshake and was able to coax him into returning to his bed.
“I’m staying awake, Georges, and I’ll shout you if it comes back,” Royer said solemnly as Georges tucked him into bed.
“Good plan, my friend. You do the night vigil, I’ll watch you during the daylight hours,” Georges said, humouring him.
Inès and Delaney were both scheduled to work in the critical ward under Aurore’s supervision and she had them scrubbing the floors and sterilising all surfaces, with the bedding of each patient changed also. Aurore’s smile was a little less polished than usual and Delaney griped about her as they fetched fresh linen.
“It’s not our fault the grim reaper collected two for the price of one last night. Old Legrand’s going to end up with a full set of teeth, all of them gold. Still wouldn’t kiss him but,” Delaney said to Inès.
“Are the bodies in the morgue?” Inès enquired tentatively.
“No, I’ve had them delivered to yo
ur house,” Delaney said dryly, giving the stupid question the stupid answer it deserved. “We haven’t had two in one night for a long time. I always think it’s strange how many do die at night. You wouldn’t think the time of day would make any difference yet the figures show that their resistance must be weaker at night.”
“That’s when they’re asleep. They’ll have gone peacefully.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Delaney said, savouring the fact that she was better informed than her colleague.
“Go on.”
“According to Simone they both had the same expression. A silent scream. Look for yourself when you get home if you don’t believe me.”
“You’ll have to cover me,” Inès said. She was compelled to see the bodies for herself and she sprinted to the morgue where both bodies were covered. The creature sat in the corner, its body huddled to make itself small, though this did not disguise that the creature was notably wider now. She raised the sheet covering the first body and saw that Delaney, who was prone to exaggeration and getting the wrong end of the stick, was completely correct in this instance, just as she knew she would be. The second corpse was the same. Fraisse had looked nothing like these two men, whose bodies showed no signs of trauma other than pre-existing injuries.
“They’re not supposed to suffer,” she said slowly to the creature, trying to make it understand. The undertaker would be arriving soon and she did not want to be here when he arrived and the creature could not be visible either. Fortunately he was not visible to all, demonstrated when Delaney came looking for her and looked in the direction of the creature and gave no outward sign of alarm. While Delaney liked to appear unflappable, Inès fancied she would have registered some shock at such a sight, which proved that only certain susceptible souls could see it, perhaps only those involved in its ‘birth’.
“You shouldn’t be here. Pay no attention to anything I say. Come on, we’d best get back,” Delaney said.
Inès nodded and returned to her duties. The undertaker asked another member of staff if he could see her, his request summarily refused because Inès had other duties and he had no reason to ask for her by name. The doctor who dealt with him was most unimpressed with his manner and even made a complaint to the matron about him. The matron called Inès in to speak to her, alerting her to the problem. The matron attached no blame to her and made this clear from the outset and merely warned her of the old man’s seeming infatuation with her and advised her to keep her distance from him, an order Inès was more than happy to obey.
Pauly was new to the undertaking trade and had received excellent training from Legrand over the last few months, to the level that Legrand stood back and left him alone to prepare the two corpses they had brought back from the nursing home. It took him some time to set the features right, those awful pained expressions firmly fixed before he applied significant pressure. He knew that Legrand was in a mood and did not probe too deeply, figuring that he may reveal more with his tongue loosened by liquor. Most nights they ended the night with a tipple, either in the office at the parlour or down the pub. Pauly was now capable of embalming the corpses, a practice which was not required for either of these two subjects. Without the need to utilise this skill (which disappointed him a little as he enjoyed this part of the process) he was finished quickly and he went to find his boss. Legrand was lying on the floor in his office, not an unfamiliar position for him, though this was different, yellow foam spurting out of his mouth with his eyes glazed over. Pauly ran to fetch a doctor who was amazed to discover that the old man was not dead, though if he lasted the night it would be a miracle.
Inès returned home and saw that a party had started without her. The gramophone was playing an upbeat record and Durand and Matthieu and Jeanne were dressed up. For the first time in years her mother was dressed in colours other than black, Mrs Videt opting for a floral dress. Two other couples were present, invited by Durand who gathered more followers now that his plans were coming to fruition. He spotted Inès enter and he grabbed her hand and twirled her around, proudly showing her off.
“Here she is, our secret weapon in the fight against war. How many did he deliver? 10, 20?” Durand asked, dancing with her against her will. Jeanne and her mother held hands and rocked back and forth, with Jeanne getting very into the party mood, her head movements extremely manic.
“Two,” Inès said under her breath. She wanted to ask him why they had looked in so much pain, wisely deciding not to ask him now, for this was clearly not the time.
“Two is enough. The cleansing purge begins.”
“You really think this will work?” an upper class gentleman asked, not quite as enamoured with Durand compared to his friends.
“It cannot fail. Albert Harper required a momentous time to save the human race. I was able to select any moment. Get dressed in your best party frock, Inès, no black today, and join the celebration!”
Inès nodded grimly and walked to her room, dodging Jeanne on the way who had started clapping and swishing her skirt back and forth. She locked her door and removed her uniform and lay on the bed in her underwear. She knew she should have felt as euphoric as the others yet she could not share their joy. The golden age of peace was worth the sacrifice but she still felt enormous pity for the masses who had no idea that the flood was coming straight for them. It would not be just the generals who would be washed away; the dead would include widows, wounded soldiers, orphans, people who had already suffered terribly over the last four years. Using the creature to mutate the virus further until only a privileged few remained – when Durand explained it to her it made sense and seemed morally acceptable, yet when she questioned it on her own she became less sure.
When different undertakers arrived to take away the three men who had died in the night Inès assumed that Legrand had lost the contract because of his odd behaviour which had been interpreted, correctly, as lecherous behaviour. She found out from Delaney that he had lost more than just that, the undertaker in need of his own services with his assistant currently critical in hospital. Delaney coughed as she shared this with her and she joked, “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on joining in the craze.”
“Make sure you don’t,” Inès said. As the day wore on it was clear to her that Delaney was not well at all and she received more distressing news when she heard that two nurses had not turned up to work on account of being ill. All three of the victims were from the critical ward, as expected, the virus now seemingly taking hold. The matron herself got her hands dirty on the ward and Inès was tempted to tell her to stay away for her own good. The matron saw that her girls were concerned for her and she assured them that she was capable of running the ward herself, which was not so hard now with the numbers dwindling, and they were assigned to other wards. Inès hoped that Lucien was waiting outside for her after work because she badly needed a diversion right now. The nobility of those around her was hard to witness when she felt responsible for what was to befall them. There was a good reason for it, only how could she explain it to them? ‘This is to augur in a perfect world, which you will not be a part of’. There was no way of selling that to them with an upside.
Besson was one of the more level-headed patients and in his case the disease appeared to be in remission. He had enough strength to eat and drink unaided and had recently began washing and using the toilet himself. Mentally he appeared fine and had since he was first wheeled into the building. As such his complete breakdown came as a surprise and garnered more attention than similar outbursts from the likes of Royer or the late Fraisse would generate. His wailing was enough to wake the dead, though did not fully rouse all in his ward, many of whom had noticeably deteriorated of late. Two patients had left their beds to stand beside him offering their aid as they attempted to get to the root of his problems. Georges was not one of them, though he was awoken by the sound of Besson’s anguished cries and he rubbed his face and stared down the ward trying to gauge the situation to find the best way to reme
dy it, once his own senses were a little more alert.
Delaney entered the ward looking flushed, adjusting her buttons as she had been disturbed while changing her uniform, a violent bout of vomiting necessitating the change, and she ushered the crowd back to their beds. Georges had shuffled to the side of his bed in readiness to offer his services which he knew would now be refused though he remained where he was, monitoring Besson solicitously. Delaney had no more luck than the patients and could not coax a single word from Besson who continued bawling his eyes out and he began to rock backwards and forwards. Delaney tried to glance at the photo he was obscuring with his fingers which she assumed was the one of his sweetheart. He had badly creased it and she wondered if this was the problem and she tried to prise it from him. He handed her the photo with anguish in his eyes and she did a double take as she looked at the picture of Jacqueline. She had seen this photo enough times to know the pose and the innocent half smile. In Jacqueline’s place a skeleton had been substituted in her dress.
Delaney saw that Georges Steil sat with his feet on the floor, indicating he had been out of his bed, and he was clearly engrossed by the scene. He was one of only a handful of men capable of getting up and she knew he was capable of daft games and tricks. She marched down the ward to him and she said furiously, “That trick wasn’t funny or clever. You’re old enough to know better.”
