Monstrous

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  She’d all but forgotten about the animal as she’d climbed on the monkey bars with her friends—until she heard the screams. Even at six years old she knew that those screams were not children having fun, but screams of sheer terror. She’d turned around to see the rottweiler on top of a little girl from the neighborhood, biting her, shaking her as she cried out for help. Blood was all over the little girl’s face and clothing—and on the dog’s face.

  Delilah saw that face often in her nightmares, dark eyes wild, muzzle stained a deep, bloody red.

  She remembered people trying to stop the dog, but the dog just went after them. Overwhelmed with fear and panic, Delilah had jumped down from the monkey bars and started to run. She knew now that it was the worst thing she could ever have done, like calling to the animal to come take a bite.

  And it did, charging across the playground, chasing after her. She remembered screaming so loudly that it felt like her voice would break. She could hear the dog behind her, growing closer . . . closer . . . and closer still.

  And just as it was about to get her—

  Delilah suddenly realized that the dog in the hallway was simply sitting in front of her, staring at her with a tilted head and quizzical gaze.

  But it didn’t change a thing. She was still so very, very afraid.

  “Bella!” Delilah heard a woman calling and looked up to see the pet therapist step into the corridor from the activity room two doors down.

  Immediately the dog reacted, turning toward the woman with a furiously wagging tail.

  “What are you doing, bad girl? Sorry about that,” the woman said to Delilah. “I was setting up for pet therapy, and she wandered away.”

  Delilah tried to speak, but fear clogged her throat.

  “Hey, are you all right?” the woman asked, concern creeping into her voice as she studied Delilah more closely.

  “I’m okay,” Delilah managed, the words tumbling out in a gasp. “Just really . . . really afraid . . .”

  “Afraid of Bella?” the woman asked with surprise. “She’s perfectly harmless. There’s no reason to be afraid of her.”

  That’s what everyone says, Delilah thought. But I do have a reason.

  She had seen what a dog had done to a little girl on a playground, to those who tried to help . . .

  To her.

  The scar on her ankle suddenly ached and throbbed. She felt the dog’s teeth as they ripped her skin, scraping across the bone.

  “I—I’m just really afraid of dogs,” Delilah stammered, not even wanting to look at the woman whose dog now stood beside her, nuzzling her hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “I understand.”

  But did she? Delilah wondered. Did the woman really get the level of fear that she experienced when encountering a dog, no matter how friendly they were supposed to be?

  It was a bystander who had saved her. He’d jumped over the fence and used a bicycle pump to beat the dog over the head, finally driving it away.

  Delilah had never gone back to that park and never looked at a dog—any dog—any way other than through fear-filled eyes since.

  The woman gave her one last look before she and the dog went back into the activity room. Delilah waited a moment to be sure they wouldn’t come back out, then practically ran past the doorway and into the nursing office.

  “Jesus Christ, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mallory exclaimed as she walked in.

  Worse, Delilah thought.

  Much worse than a ghost.

  This was real.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sidney’s friends were all sitting or standing around her cot. They weren’t saying much, but she could read their concern for her in their watchful eyes. She wanted so much to tell them to cut the crap, that she was fine.

  But then she could feel it—whatever it was—inside her skull, inside her brain—and she was so very glad that they were with her.

  “They’re upset,” Isaac blurted out. He stood alone near the wall of the tent, staring out through the plastic window at the makeshift camp on the high school soccer field.

  “What’s that, Isaac? Who’s upset?” Sidney asked, climbing off the cot to join him, grateful for the distraction.

  Isaac turned as she approached, Snowy right behind her. Nervously he stepped back, still horribly awkward and shy around her even though they’d been through so much together in the last twenty-four hours.

  “The scientist people,” he said, gesturing toward the window.

  Sidney stepped past him and glanced outside. “You’re right,” she said.

  “What’s goin’ on, Sid?” Cody questioned as he and Rich headed toward her.

  “I don’t know, but they don’t look all that happy.”

  Sayid and Langridge were talking, the scientist pacing. Other members of their team were milling about, all wearing the same stern looks.

  “I’m sure it’s about Boston,” Rich said.

  “Yeah, but what about it?” Sidney asked.

  And suddenly she felt as if someone had stabbed the blade of a scalpel into her skull, twisting it in the soft mushy meat of her brain. She let out a shrill scream, her hands grabbing at the sides of her head as the world dropped away from beneath her.

  Backward she fell, first into darkness . . .

  And then into hell.

  * * *

  Sidney didn’t understand the images that bombarded her with such painful fury.

  At first she found herself in total darkness—a black so intense that it consumed all light, feeling, and sound.

  Life. It consumed life.

  Then there was a flash, tearing the darkness away like a curtain, revealing . . .

  Somewhere deep beneath the ground, somewhere wet and muddy and hard with rock . . .

  A city . . . a jungle of steel, stone, and glass . . . pummeled by a storm. So many live there . . . so many lives . . .

  Eyes . . . she is looking out through hundreds—thousands—of eyes. It is ready . . . something . . . alien. The time for attack is now.

  ELYSIUM.

  The sign is before her, the rain pouring over its raised letters. She thinks she sees a building behind the sign, but . . .

  The curtain falls, and it is darkness again.

  * * *

  “Sidney.”

  The sound of someone calling her name seemed to be reverberating through the length of a very long tunnel.

  “Sid? Sidney? Are you okay? Sidney?”

  She opened her eyes and realized she was lying on the floor of the tent, her friends and Dr. Sayid leaning over her.

  “Hey,” he said, that look of concern on his face. “Are you all right, Ms. Moore?”

  “I saw a city,” she blurted out, attempting to sit up but blocked by an excited Snowy licking her face. “I think . . . I think it was Boston.”

  “What do you mean you saw Boston?” Langridge pushed her way between Cody and Rich and squatted beside Sidney.

  “Brenda, perhaps you should—” Sayid began.

  But the security officer immediately cut him off. “Never mind that. What do you mean you saw Boston?” she demanded.

  Sidney thought for a moment about what she was going to say, not completely understanding it herself. “I really don’t understand, but it’s like I told you already. When I connected with that thing in the cave, it . . . they . . . the ones who sent it . . . got into my head too. I think there’s another one of those things in Boston . . . at least that’s what I saw.”

  Langridge looked at Sayid and then back to Sidney.

  “You realize that sounds like crazy talk,” she said.

  Sidney nodded. “Can you help me up?” she asked. Cody stepped in front of Sayid and reached down to grasp her hand, pulling her to her feet. She swayed ever so slightly.

  “You good?” he asked, holding her arm to steady her.

  “Yeah, thanks,” she said. “Just a little dizzy.”

  “So what makes you think there’s another
one of those creatures and that you’re somehow linked to it? Maybe it’s just stress or something,” Cody suggested.

  “No,” Sidney said, shaking her head. “It’s hard to describe, but the feelings, I guess, were the same. And it was definitely Boston I could see.”

  “But you’ve been to Boston,” Langridge said, clearly trying to debunk Sidney’s story. “It could just be with all the talk of another storm . . .”

  “Not during a hurricane,” Sidney countered. “It’s almost as if I’m somehow part of this thing . . . this alien organism . . . seeing what it sees . . . feeling what it feels . . .” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the painful, terrible sensations.

  “Okay, so tell me then,” Langridge said. “Is what happened here in Benediction going to happen in Boston?”

  Sidney knew the answer but didn’t want to face the truth. She felt suddenly cold and wrapped her arms around herself, avoiding the uncomfortably stern gaze of the woman questioning her.

  “Sidney?” Langridge insisted.

  She was sure they all knew the answer anyway.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sayid wasn’t sure how much he should share; these people were civilians after all.

  “We haven’t been able to contact authorities in Boston, or anywhere else,” he said carefully, feeling Langridge’s eyes burning into the side of his face.

  “Greg,” she said. “Maybe we should—”

  “It’s all right, Brenda,” Sayid interrupted. “I think that after what they’ve been through, they have a right to know.” He paused, weighing what he would say next, before focusing his attention on Sidney and her friends. “Something is interfering with our communications.”

  “So Boston doesn’t know,” Rich said.

  Sayid shook his head. “We’re working on it, but . . .”

  “It’s them,” Sidney said suddenly. “They’re doing this . . . blocking the signals, just like they did during the storm on the island.”

  “Perhaps, but we just don’t know if . . .”

  “No.” The young woman was adamant. “Trust me . . . I know it’s them.”

  “You’re talking about aliens again,” Langridge commented, her tone indicating her doubt. “Or whatever the hell they are.”

  Sidney nodded her head slowly.

  “Then what can you tell us specifically? Do you have any idea of the number of alien creatures we’re talking about here? One, or two or two hundred?”

  “I—I don’t—” Sidney stammered.

  Sayid was fascinated. The young lady truly seemed to believe what she was saying. “How can you be so certain?” he asked her. “Is this actual knowledge, or a guess?”

  “Look,” Sidney began, and Sayid could hear the anger creeping into her tone. “I’ve already told you I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m getting a little tired of all these questions. Something happened in that cave, and now I seem to know what these things are trying to do and where they’re headed. You can believe me or not, but either way, there are a lot of people in Boston who are gonna need help.”

  “So if that’s true, does it work the other way?” Langridge piped in. “Do they know that you’re aware of what they’re planning?”

  The young woman offered a sad, small smile before answering. “They do.” She paused, then chuckled softly, although there was no humor in it. “And I don’t think they like that one bit.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The staff had just wrapped up report and taken their assignments when there was a horrendous boom. At first Delilah thought it was an explosion, and she had to admit that she let out a little scream when the thunder clap sounded and the lights went out. It seemed to shake the whole building and cause the very air to vibrate.

  “It’s all right,” Mallory called out. “Give it a second.”

  And like magic, most of the lights came back on.

  “There, emergency generators have kicked in,” Mallory continued. “We should be good.”

  The storm continued to rage outside, the wind driving the rain so hard that it sounded like little rocks hitting the windows.

  “Listen to it out there,” Phil commented. “Don’t think I’ll be going out for lunch today.”

  “Has anybody heard anything more about the storm?” Annalise asked.

  Cherrie looked at her phone. “Says it’s gonna rain,” she said in all seriousness.

  “Really? I wouldn’t have known,” Delilah commented drily, and they all shared a nervous laugh.

  It felt good to laugh after the scare. Delilah knew it was ridiculous, but she just couldn’t shake the terror of her earlier confrontation with Bella. Maybe it’s the storm, she thought. For a second she actually considered heading down the hall to find the therapist and the dog and trying to pet the animal. But then her heart started racing, and she began to sweat.

  On second thought, maybe she’d just get to work.

  As a co-op, she didn’t have an assignment of her own; instead she was paired up with one of the nurses, meant to maximize her learning experience, and, if truth be told, she really was learning a lot. Today she was working with Cherrie, who was waiting by the doorway, still looking at her phone with a concerned expression.

  “What’s wrong?” Delilah asked as she joined the nurse.

  “I’m not getting anything on this,” she said, obviously annoyed. “The storm must be screwing everything up.”

  Delilah pulled her own phone from the pocket of her scrub pants and looked at it. “Yeah, I’m not getting anything either.”

  Someone cleared their throat loudly, and they saw Mallory glaring from the back of the room.

  “Don’t make me take those away from you,” she said, reminding them that cell phones were not allowed on patient units.

  “Sorry,” Delilah said, quickly putting the phone back into her pocket.

  Cherrie did the same. “Not like we can do much with it anyway,” she grumbled as she and Delilah headed out on their first rounds.

  * * *

  Elysium was a long-term-care hospital that specialized in the treatment and rehab of people with traumatic brain injuries. Delilah’s unit was a chronic-care unit, the patients not expected to ever really recover. It was a difficult job, but Delilah loved it. There wasn’t much she found more rewarding than the occasional slight response she received from her mostly unresponsive patients.

  She was feeding Lonnie Jorgenson, a thirty-five-year-old former music teacher who had suffered severe brain trauma in a car accident a little more than five years earlier. Her prognosis was poor, but Delilah could have sworn that every once in a while she caught a glimpse of the woman that Lonnie used to be.

  She raised the spoonful of pureed peaches up to Lonnie’s mouth, then gently wiped away the excess that dribbled from her lips.

  “It’s really awful out there today, Lonnie,” Delilah said, making conversation even though it was completely one-sided. “In fact, a state of emergency has been declared.” She brought another spoonful of the fruit to Lonnie’s mouth. “But don’t you worry, we’ve got it all under control here,” she continued. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

  Delilah listened to the howling wind and driving spray against the windows, trying to believe her own reassurances. She wished that she could take a quick break and check in with her mother and Izzy, but the cell signals were still down.

  She finished feeding Lonnie and carefully wiped the woman’s mouth and face. “We good?” she asked the woman softly, but Lonnie just stared with that sad, vacant expression.

  “Let’s get you comfortable, and we’ll put on your music. How’s that?” Delilah asked her.

  Lonnie did not answer, but Delilah felt she would be happy with that. She lowered the woman’s bed, fixed her pillow and arranged her covers, then crossed the room to a shelf where a CD player sat, a stack of disc cases beside it.

  Cherrie appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Lonnie,” she said softly, touching the woma
n’s hand before turning to Delilah. “You about done?”

  “Almost. I just want to put some music on for her.”

  Delilah picked Mozart’s Greatest Hits and placed the disc in the player. She hit play, adjusting the volume as the first soothing notes sounded, then turned to see that Cherrie was checking her work. She smiled to herself. She knew the nurses had to double-check her care, and, believe it or not, she was fine with that. She was pretty confident in the care she gave.

  “How’s that, Lonnie?” Delilah asked as she approached the bed where the woman lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling above her.

  “We’ll leave you to your music, hon,” Cherrie said, again touching the woman’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

  “Nice job in there,” Cherrie said to her as the two left the room and headed down the corridor. “But now comes a real challenge,” she added as they stopped at another room.

  “Okay,” Delilah said with trepidation as she realized they were at Winston’s door.

  Winston had managed to survive a massive stroke, but it had left him in a near-vegetative state. The poor man was mostly nonresponsive but would occasionally have sudden, violent physical outbursts. There was really no way to predict when they would happen—add to that the fact that he weighed nearly three hundred pounds—making caring for him difficult, to say the least.

  “Winston needs his bath,” Cherrie said.

  “Oh no,” Delilah said. “Didn’t he just have one?”

  Cherrie nodded with a smile. “And now it’s time for another.”

  Delilah peered into the semidarkened room at the large mound of humanity lying upon the bed.

  “Do you accept the challenge?” Cherrie asked.

  Delilah steeled herself. “Let’s do this,” she said, taking a deep breath and entering the room first.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “What do you think they’re talking about?” Rich asked, staring through the plastic window.

  Langridge and Sayid had quickly left and were talking outside, stepping far enough away from the fabric sides of the tent that those inside couldn’t hear their words.