by G Johanson
“Can I hear my charges before you construct the scaffold?”
Delaney held the photo up and Georges looked at her blankly. Delaney shook her head and walked back to the patient that needed and deserved her help. Georges wasn’t sure what to make of what he’d seen and he clambered out of bed and asked his drowsy neighbour if he could look at his photos again. After receiving a half-hearted mutter giving his permission, Georges dug out the two pictures of Gil’s young daughters. Delaney shouted at him to get back into bed, Georges ignoring her as this matter was bigger than getting into trouble with the medical staff. Gil’s pretty little angels were now skinless skulls swamped in crinoline with bony hands protruding from the sleeves.
Inès entered the ward and stood with Delaney who struggled with Besson. It didn’t matter how many times she reassured him that it was just a cheap trick, he sensed this was beyond that.
“What’s happened?” Inès asked.
“Mr Steil’s showing off again. I liked you better when you were just smashing cups, Georges!” Delaney shouted, referring to his latest juggling attempt which had been an unmitigated disaster. Georges paid no attention to her, sitting back down on his bed silently, deep in thought. “Look at this.”
Inès looked at the photograph and struggled for the right words and tone, delivering flatly, “Oh. That’s unfortunate.”
“It’s not just his photo,” Georges said quietly.
“What?” Delaney said crossly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Georges said, lifting his legs under the covers and turning on his side as he tried to work out what was going on here.
“So somebody’s playing a joke?” Inès said, playing dumb.
“A mean-spirited joke, yes,” Delaney said. She sighed and admitted defeat and instructed Inès to fetch the doctor. Five deaths in two nights and now was the time Georges wanted to play the clown? They all needed a laugh but if that was what he thought constituted a joke then he was in greater need of help than they could provide and belonged in the same place his friend, Royer, was heading, his transfer already signed for to expedite the process. All they were waiting for now was his physical recovery and he would be shipped to the asylum post-haste.
Georges did not need to twist Royer’s arm to persuade him to join him in another search that night. Royer was always particularly paranoid at night, though after seeing the photos Georges gave credence to his tale of seeing a monster prowling the wards. They were searching for more than a monster this time, seeking clues to solve this riddle. After searching every other room, Georges encamped himself in the critical ward. This was where the death rate had increased exponentially and he monitored the sleeping men with Royer’s assistance, the pair of them hiding under unoccupied beds whenever the door opened at the end of the bed. In the early hours of the morning when it grew light they heard a doctor and nurse talking about them, their absence finally being discovered, and they sneaked back to their ward and into their beds. The doctor disturbed Georges a short while later, preferring to talk to him as there was the possibility of getting a modicum of sense from him, and he gave him a brief lecture, telling him it was not a good time to mess around. Georges noticed how pale and unhealthy he looked and gathered he was working while sick, admirable under the circumstances.
Aurore was as sick as the rest of the staff but she would have to be in her grave to miss a shift, retaining her smile and upbeat outlook, buoyed by the good news which she shared with Inès. There had been no casualties during the night, which she took as a positive sign that they had turned the corner. The news would have been better coming from someone else, for with her wan complexion and bloodshot eyes she was less than convincing. Delaney was off, presumably sick, along with two other members of staff, and Inès grew more troubled about their plan. It was okay for Durand and the others, for whom their scheme was impersonal. She knew these people and liked them and, however she dressed it up, she was betraying them. Where was Lucien when she needed him? He had been absent last night and again this morning. She kept looking across to the cafe and she even ventured out for lunch in the hope that he might turn up and she ended up eating alone at the cafe. Upon returning to work Georges waved across the ward to her, requesting her assistance.
“Weird isn’t it? Every photo in the building, on the walls, in the office, our possessions, every one now skeletal visions. Makes you think,” Georges pottered on to himself as Inès led him to the bathroom.
“It is unusual. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation,” Inès said weakly.
“I’d love to hear it,” Georges said. She couldn’t meet that challenge and she went about her duties, escorting Georges into the toilet and standing with him. He knew he was supposed to sit down but wouldn’t comply, telling her that his aim was good, using his free hand to prop himself up on the wall. Once he was done he washed his hands and he turned to look at Inès and he said, “You were calm. I was impressed.”
“I wasn’t calm. I just don’t take it seriously,” Inès said, forcing a grin like it was all some ridiculous jape.
“Besson’s in pieces over this; this is as serious as it gets,” Georges said, suddenly lacking any of the humour that was so characteristic of him. Inès felt that he was judging her, intently scrutinising her behaviour without any reason to do so.
“You’re a bit moody today,” Inès said defensively.
“I don’t have any photos with me. If I did I’d be even more aggrieved than Besson was. To a soldier photos are the most valuable possession in the world, up there with your rifle and dry socks. A bit of home in hell. I’d never interfere with photos, not in a million years. That’s a sickness beyond me, beyond humans I’d say.”
Inès shrugged. “You done?”
“I’m done. If you ever want to talk you know where I am.”
“Sorry?”
“You being new here and coming just as the flu takes a firm grip. I’ve been the fall guy too, so I know what it’s like when people point the finger of blame. You know where to find me.”
Lucien was standing outside to greet Inès after work and greeted her with a smile and pointed to the cafe and said, “Usual place?”
Inès shook her head. “Twice in one day is too much. Can we go back to yours?”
“Of course,” Lucien said, leading the way. The guesthouse was humbleness itself and the landlord grumbled that Lucien’s visitor would have to leave before nine. Lucien took her to his room and muttered, “Miserable old sod. You look stressed to hell again.”
Lucien could hardly have picked better words to describe how she felt. She had been quiet while they walked, compelling him to fill the vacuum as usual. She explained, “They’re dropping like flies.”
“How’s Georges?” he asked, his concern evident, his brow furrowing.
“Fine.” She was still troubled by his behaviour at the end of her shift. How did he know she was involved or was he bluffing? “It’s on the serious ward, and he’s not on that ward.”
“It wouldn’t be a good fit. Lie down.”
Inès widened her eyes and Lucien said, “Lie face down on the bed. I know something that will help.”
Inès did as instructed though her expression showed how unsure she was about this, amusing Lucien who laughed at her. He knelt on the bed at her side and he said, “You’d think I have something sinister in mind. Close your eyes, let your worries go.”
Inès closed her eyes and felt Lucien’s strong hands set to work on her shoulders and back. He was quiet at first, concentrating on his task, before he said, “This would be better without clothing. Perhaps another time when you know me better.”
“Where did you learn to do this?” Inès said, temporarily feeling relaxed while he massaged her. It was a shame he had to stop eventually.
“I’m going off memory, remembering what was done to me. We got leave and other guys went to brothels. Uncle Georges took us to a health retreat. We complained at first until we realised it was exactly what w
e needed. It helped me unwind and not so much forget my troubles but just put them to one side for a little while. I intend to go back, or find one in or near Dijon because my feet could do with some more treatments.” Lucien decided not to tell her how, after a two day break in the retreat, Georges also took them to a brothel for an hour before they headed back.
“You have a nurse in your room, you know?”
“A nurse who needs my help more than I need hers. Just relax. I’m not sure how a healthy back should feel but I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t feel like this.”
“I just want to make a difference. That’s not a crime, is it?”
“Not in my book. I’m going to sneak in to see him. If you could leave a side door unlocked that would be helpful. If not, that’s fine.”
“There’s too many staff on during the day and I don’t work there at night. The virus is spreading. You’re not even safe with me,” Inès said, trying to protect him.
“I feel safe with you. I wish you felt the same.”
“I asked to come here,” Inès said.
“I know, and I’m still confused by that. You’re a complicated girl, Inès.”
“There’s not much to me, Lucien,” Inès said, believing that he mistook her quietness for mystique. She needed a refuge from the madness for a while, from the influx of visitors to her home and from the death and misery at the nursing home.
“I know different. I’m not saying this because you’re the only one helping me. I’d like to see below the surface.”
Lucien attempted to unfasten her dress and Inès protested, remaining prone as she said, “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll spoil things.”
“It doesn’t. It’s your choice, Inès. I’m not going to lie. Once I’ve seen him I’m gone. I’d sooner leave without regrets,” Lucien said and he turned away from her and placed his legs on the floor.
“What are you really going to get out of the visit? ‘Are you well?’. ‘I’ll be fine.’ ‘You don’t look so good.’ ‘What’s new?’ It’s not going to change anything.”
“You should have been a soldier. You’re cynical enough,” Lucien said, finding her entertaining. “We could have said our goodbyes when we were demobbed and he could have gone off to the ends of the earth again, not a problem at all. If we didn’t see him for five years after that then I still wouldn’t go looking. I’ve told you, he was struck down with this illness right at the death, and was taken away from us while we were serving our last days before peace, celebration, parties...but no Georges.”
“I think I understand what you’re trying to say. You must still have said your goodbyes.”
“Not exactly. Etienne gave him a hug before he went to see the doctor. I told him he was wasting his time and that he should stop skiving. I’m not tormenting myself about that, he knows I meant nothing by it. He’d been ill awhile before he saw anybody. Until I see him it still feels like we’ve left him behind, in the field, in No Man’s Land. That may well be deranged but that’s my reasoning.”
“I wish I could help. It’s just too contagious now. You should get far away.”
“You’re not running.”
Inès exhaled and said, “I’d love to sometimes. You have no idea.”
“Tell me. I’ve shared some strange things with you about my uncle. Speak to me – that may prove helpful too.”
Talking to him was too hard. She couldn’t explain herself. She wanted to stay with him and to please him and she knew a way to do this. She sat up on the bed and peeled off her dress, making Lucien turn around, and she said, “You say it’s better without clothes?”
“In my experience, yes. You sure?”
“Therapy never did anyone any harm...”
The creature skulked the corridors again in the still of the night, the perfect moment for an opportunistic predator. It returned to its favourite ward where the victims were the easiest targets, men who were on the precipice between life and death. All were sleeping as it entered and it bounded past two patients who it ignored for now, though after its first course it would return to the first man. The patient in the third bed was the frailest and the creature sat astride him. The patient, Simon, woke up at this, feeling a heavy weight on his torso, and when he attempted to clutch his chest he felt something in the air. He gasped as the illusion was breached and the creature became partially visible to him in the darkened room. Hallucinations were nothing new to him though this felt far too real and he panicked and tried to shout out for help. The creature opened its mouth at the same time and its mouth opened far wider, wide enough for it to take the patient’s whole head in its mouth, muffling his scream. Simon tried to thrash around to free himself, though he was so weak that he barely moved the covers. He could feel himself being sucked dry, the creature absorbing his life force, and he was powerless to stop it from happening.
One of the night nurses entered the ward and noticed that something was wrong and walked to Simon’s bed. His arms and legs were twitching causing her some concern while his pained expression as he lay gasping with his mouth wide open troubled her further. He seemed oblivious to her presence and she said his name and went to touch his shoulder when she felt a sharp pain in her face as her nose was broken and she sprawled to the floor, banging her head off the adjacent bed, knocking herself out. She had made the mistake of getting between predator and prey, when the creature was at its strongest.
Another stepped forward with the same intentions with a couple of advantages the poor nurse did not have. Georges Steil was not such an easy target and he could see the monstrosity. His telekinesis was never up to the level of some of the immortals and with the current state of his health it was subpar but it was the only weapon in his arsenal that might affect this creature. He concentrated on the creature’s back and forced a tear and began to rip it apart. When he was at full power this was fairly easy to perform with dead tissue while manipulating live flesh was always trickier. This creature fell somewhere between the two camps and Georges was unable to cause it much damage though he attracted its attention as it reached to its back to examine the wound before it relinquished its meal for now and turned to face Georges who stood with Royer at his side.
“Wow. You’re uglier than Albert’s demon. I didn’t think that was possible,” Georges said, playing for time. He was struggling to stand let alone use his powers. He heard poor Simon breathing in and out heavily which was a great sign. Its jaws remained extended and it advanced on Georges who realised he was next on the menu unless he performed a dramatic trick. He tried to rip some of the creature’s flesh but he had too little energy left to even affect the area he’d already opened. He could smell the things breath now, as foul as he imagined it to be, the creature walking closer to Georges who backed away, a daft thing to do with such a creature as it would take his retreat to signal, correctly, that he was beaten in this fight. Royer didn’t know how best to help and he did the only thing he could and stood in front of Georges, offering himself in his place.
Georges and Royer were saved as over a dozen footsteps were heard running down the corridor towards the ward and the creature scurried away. Georges collapsed to the floor once it was gone and he woke up a few minutes later still in one piece with Royer sat watching over him. He knew he was lucky and probably wouldn’t get away with that again. Creating the auditory distraction had taken his last vestiges of energy and he shuffled along the floor to check on the nurse who remained unconscious. She was breathing, always a plus, and Georges positioned her in a seated position while he checked on Simon. He was still awake though his breathing was shallow and his pulse was very weak.
“What was that?” he asked hoarsely in a whisper, understandably desperately afraid.
“I don’t know. It’s gone. I have to go and make sure it doesn’t come back. I have a favour to ask. Don’t tell the doctors. Leave it in my hands.”
Simon nodded and Georges left the ward with Royer to search for the creat
ure. Simon remained awake, too terrified to sleep, and he tried to summon up the energy to get out of bed and wake up the nurse. He’d seen crocodiles on the ward during previous hallucinations but this was not imaginary. And it wasn’t over. He smelt the creature before he saw it, its head peeking up at the bottom of his bed, staring at him. Simon tried to retreat backwards away from it and mustered the strength to roll out of his bed. He had only bought himself a few seconds respite and he was unable to even crawl away and he looked to his side under his bed where he was able to see that the things feet appeared simian, its toes appearing the length of fingers. It strolled leisurely towards him, taking its time with him. Simon muttered, “No...”
The creature showed that it understood him by nodding, seemingly revelling in prolonging his suffering. Its face began transmogrifying again into an even more grotesque visage as the eyes shifted upwards, the top half of the creature’s features moving to accommodate the expanded mouth which was large enough for him to entrap his victim’s head once more. There were no teeth in the gaping huge mouth, just a seeming black hole in the vast expanse which Simon knew he could not escape this time. The mouth just kept growing until it was the only feature visible on its face from the front, its eyes and nose forced to the back of its head. From this view the creature saw Georges Steil standing behind him and before it had chance to act Georges forced a kitchen knife into its right eye. It bounded away screeching at this and Georges lowered himself to the floor and sat with Simon. He had no energy left for spells and had been forced to rely upon more traditional methods which seemed successful for now. He promised Simon he would stay by his side and he apologised for leaving him. Georges guessed that the monster would return to the sickest patient and he had lain in wait for it and had outsmarted it for the moment. The chances were it would be back. He had sent Royer away to defend their ward in case the attack had gone wrong because he could not have him sacrifice himself in his place, this tactic requiring some artful manipulation on his part.
