“He was probably doped up on crack or something. That must be the answer, because there is not some giant walking boar-man running around London slaughtering people!”
“I know what I saw.”
“You know what you think you saw. Perception can be a tricky thing, especially when you have been drinking.”
Joseph was about to argue more, but shut up. If he kept arguing with this officer he was sure he was going to find himself behind bars. After all, they had a few things they could get him for already. The fact they hadn’t mentioned charging him with anything made him breathe a sigh of relief.
“Well, get some rest. We may have more questions for you, so I suggest you stay in London for the next few weeks. The doctors say you will be here for a couple of days at least. Hopefully, we will have this wrapped up by then and you will be able to go on with your life as if nothing has happened.” Belize smirked at him, nodded to Coles, and stood. They filed out of the room and shut the door behind them.
Joseph knew what he saw and he hadn’t been that drunk. He suddenly remembered something Belize said. There had been someone else who had survived last night. Someone else who had seen the same monstrosity he had. Most likely that person was here at the hospital. He attempted to sit up, but the excruciating pain that went beyond the painkillers settled him back down immediately. He would have to wait till he was recovered a little bit more. Perhaps he could get some information from one of the nurses or something. Find out if that other guy was here, and if so, what room he was in. In the meantime, he decided to get some rest. He called home to tell his wife he was at the hospital after he had taken a spill leaving the office late last night. He told her he was tired and if she wanted to visit, she should do it tomorrow and stay home tonight. Reluctantly, she agreed. It amazed him his wife seemed to still love him when he couldn’t even stand to look at her.
He got comfortable in the bed, as comfortable as one can get with an IV in the arm, heart monitors and an upper body bandage wrap. He tried to close his eyes, yet every time he did, he kept getting flashes of the creature standing over him and his clawed hand descending towards him. His eyes would shoot open before the claw hit, but the damage was already done. His heart rate accelerated and he was sweating slightly. He turned on the television and watched it till he could no longer fight the sleep.
Exhausted and barely keeping his eyes open, he finally succumbed to sleep.
Joseph felt as if he was flying. Air seemed to rush past him and he felt slightly weightless. There was a rumbling noise that filled his ears, a constant drum that seemed to pick up speed and slow down with certain randomness. There were other sounds he could hear but not quite make out as well. The conflux of perception made him wonder if he were dreaming. He tried opening his eyes. He did so slowly, for at first, a bright light seemed to fill his vision, blinding him. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the spots to disappear. He tried opening them again and this time managed to keep them open though the light was still a little bright, occasionally dimming then building in brightness, bright, then dimming again. He was lying on his back and was watching ceiling tiles rush past him occasionally interrupted by a fluorescent light. He didn’t understand how the ceiling was moving. Suddenly a man leaned over his face, and looked him in the eyes. Out from the side he produced a tiny flashlight, which he proceeded to shine in Joseph’s left eye. Joseph closed his eyes tight again, but his eyelids were forced open once again by the man’s fingers as he flashed the flashlight once more into his eye. His left eye began to water from the brightness of the light so close to it. He tried to speak, but found he couldn’t. He felt impossibly warm. Almost like his skin was on fire. He tried to look down, but couldn’t move his head. Several people were next to his bed, all looking in the direction of his feet. It took him a moment to realize he was on a stretcher and these people were wheeling him somewhere. The man above him shined the light in his right eye. He could see the man’s lips move but couldn’t hear what he was saying. The only thing he could hear was the steady rumbling. He watched as they passed under a doorway. The ceiling stopped moving and the rumbling stopped as well. There was perfect silence in this room, though he knew that was impossible. He watched as the man with the flashlight moved around to his side and grabbed his hospital shirt. He pulled it open hastily and put his ear against Joseph’s chest. He lifted his head, turned, and looked like he shouted something.
A moment later he was holding two paddles. He placed them on Joseph’s chest, then turned and yelled something. Joseph saw his chest rise in front of him. He didn’t know how that was possible, because he had been trying to move this entire time, and all he could move was his eyes. The man lifted the paddles from his chest and once again placed his ear on his chest. He quickly righted himself and put the paddles against Joseph’s chest once more. Again, he appeared to shout and Joseph lifted once more. Sound came in like a burst damn. There were people shouting and machines buzzing, beeping, and humming. The man pressed his ear once again to Joseph chest and this time he could feel the man’s hair touch his neck where his bandage ended. The man raised his head and smiled at Joseph.
“We saved him.” Several people cheered and a couple clapped. The doctor, Joseph gathered he was, smiled at the others and nodded to each.
Suddenly, he turned serious again, all business.
“His temperature is too high. We need to get him in the ice bath as soon as possible, otherwise, we might just have saved a vegetable.”
“Doctor, the bath is ready,” said the nurse who came into the room from another doorway.
Joseph found he could move his head again and watched as they wheeled this large metal tub next to the stretcher. He had never felt this warm before. He knew he was sweating profusely and could smell his own body odor since he hadn’t been able to shower since yesterday morning. The doctor moved to the back of his stretcher and slid his hands under him, palms resting on his scapula. He felt other hands grab his arms. Someone took hold of his feet, and another slid hands under his back and thighs.
“Okay, on the count of three. 1……2….3… lift”
Joseph felt himself being lifted and moved over. He just had a moment to realize the tub he was lowered into held nothing but medium sized chunks of ice. When his body hit the ice, he felt pain radiate all over his body. His weight pushed him down deeper into the ice. The nurses began scooping ice from below and beside him, dropping them on top of his chest and abdomen, and finally his legs and neck. The pain was almost unbearable. After a moment or two, the pain subsided and the numbness kicked in. He still sweated and he watched the ice melt wherever he rested on his bare skin. His temperature must be through the roof for it to melt the ice like that. He was in there for a while as the nurses kept checking on him. He wondered how long he was going to have to sit in this ice. He waited. It wasn’t until he started to shiver the nurses gathered around and lifted him back onto the stretcher. In no time, he was back in his room. Where he promptly fell asleep. For some reason his entire body felt exhausted, as if he had just finished a triathlon.
He woke about noon and the nurse came in with his lunch. She walked in, took one look at him, and almost spilled the tray of food.
“What? What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He could tell she was lying. She moved to the bed and placed the tray on his bed table. She leaned over him and seemed to examine his face intently. Her hand moved to touch his face, but she stopped mere centimeters from it. She moved it away, stood, turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her he reached up with his own hand to touch his face. With a sharp intake of breath, he ran his fingers along his jaw line. It was impossible. There was nothing. No cut, no stitches, there wasn’t even a scar along his jaw. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what to think. He started to believe it must have been a miracle. Perhaps God had saved his life and healed him. But why? He had no illusions he was worth saving. He knew he wasn’t. Most of his life
had been falling from one sin to the next. So, there must be another reason.
He sat, discovering he could do so with no pain. There was no way the drugs would be working this good. He had still felt pain anytime he attempted to move last night, regardless of what they dosed him with. He glanced down and found what remained of his stitches lying on his chest. They had fallen out apparently and landed on his chest… his chest, where the remaining claw marks were. He unclipped the bandage from his side and began, at first, to gently unwrap himself. He discovered he was feeling absolutely no pain from this movement and did it more rapidly. Shortly the wrap was off and he was gently pulling the bandages off. He stared at his chest. He continued to stare at his chest for what seemed like an eternity. It was perfect. There wasn’t a scratch there. The stitches had pulled away, stuck to the dried blood on the bandages. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Last night he almost died.
Right now, he felt healthier than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt well enough to leave, that was for sure. He stood and went to the closet. His clothes were hanging there and he put them on. He couldn’t find his shirt and assumed, given the damage he had received; his shirt must have been a mess. Luckily, he had worn a coat that night and hadn’t put it on yet when he had been attacked, so it was still in good shape. He made his way to the door and looked out. Down the hall, he could see his nurse moving in the direction of his room. Next to her was the doctor he remembered seeing when he almost died. He knew instantly they were on their way here, and once they got here, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He made up his mind quickly and stepped into the hall. He headed briskly away from the nurse and doctor. Almost immediately he heard a shout from the nurse, followed by the doctor yelling, “Stop.” He quickened his pace and turned a corner. He reached the elevator just as it was closing. Narrowly he missed hitting the doors as he ducked in. There were only a couple of people in the elevator with him. It was heading down. He was on the sixth floor and it was going to the lobby. He waited till the elevator was on the way, and waited a little bit more so that the nurse and the doctor would see it was heading to the lobby and they would try to beat him down. When the elevator was about to pass the third floor he quickly pressed the three button. The elevator slowed to a stop. He stepped off and made his way to the sitting area on this floor. He would wait till shift change and then make his way back up to the sixth floor. There was someone up there he had to see. He needed to see the other man who was at the motel last night, the other man who had survived — like him.
Taylor Westin watched as Sergeant Belize and Coles left his room. He wondered if they thought he was crazy. After all, he wasn’t all that sure he wasn’t crazy. The earlier events had left him shaken and badly hurt. He lay on his hospital bed; face down, his back in tatters from where that thing had raked him with its claws. His front was only slightly better, being just bruised from the impact he had taken when he crashed into the wall. It was a wonder he was still alive. He knew he had broken a few ribs and lost a lot of blood from the wounds on his back. Sometimes he wondered if he was delusional from the shock of what he endured, but the flashes of that nightmarish creature still haunted him. Flashes of it as it ran down the hall after him. He still remembered the sounds of its cloven feet stomping closer and closer to him as he tried to outrun it, then the fire erupting from his back as he was thrown forward from the force of the hit.
He should never have even been at that motel.
He was on his way home from a convenience store that was open late. He only went because he had one of his migraines, again. He hadn’t had one in months and so hadn’t bothered to get more medicine. He had been having migraines for most of his life, at least since he was in his teens. He was almost thirty now and still no one could tell him why he got them.
He tried to adjust his position, but was only rewarded with pain shooting all over his body. It was hard to move around on the hospital bed since he was a tall man, near two meters and awkwardly thin. He had always been awkward. At ten he was already one and half meters, which made him a constant target for the kids’ jokes at school. Beanstalk is what most called him, and the nickname continued all through high school as well. He wore thick turtle shell glasses, which he had always meant to change, but never got around to it. His face was narrow which matched the rest of his body. Thin legs, thin arms and narrow shoulders pretty much summed up his body features, which had made him almost a joke when it came to sports or any physical activity. He was always picked last for any team, and on top of that, there was a good chance he would have to drop out of any game due to a severe migraine. They made him nauseous and feel like curling into a ball. Just like the one he had the night of the attack.
He had managed to make his way to the convenience store without puking. The cool night helped since he was burning up as he always did when he got these migraines. He didn’t wait to get home to take his meds. He popped them as soon as he left the store and swallowed without a chaser. Stumbling outside he collapsed on a bench in front of the place. He knew he must look like a street bum, all curled up and rocking on a street bench, but at that moment, he could care less. Head bent low and covered with his arms to keep out the light from the street lamps. Bright lights never helped when he had a migraine.
After about ten minutes, he started to feel better and he felt his temperature returning to normal. Taylor stood and walked towards home. He was only a block away. Not the best place in London to live, but it was cheap. Plus, despite all the reported crime in the area, he had never been bothered once in ten years, so he didn’t see any reason to move. He was just passing the motel that would be the site to forever haunt him after this night. The ground started shaking. Taylor stumbled and smacked headlong into the side of the building.
He lost consciousness, and when he came to, he heard screaming from inside the motel. His head hurt again, but he guessed it probably would have hurt a lot more if he hadn’t already taken several pain pills. Gingerly he stood and brushed the clinging dirt off his clothes. He heard screams again from inside the motel. Perhaps someone was trapped from falling debris? Or hurt. He should probably call an ambulance, but he knew they would probably already have their hands full. He was no expert by any means, but that had to be an earthquake, and a sizable one at that. If someone was hurt, they could possibly die before any help arrived. Well, any help besides him. He paused at that. Was he planning on helping? It wasn’t something he would normally do. It seemed to be an act of bravery, and he never thought himself capable of that. He knew if he didn’t act, someone might die. Maybe he could be a hero? That would be something. After all, he was a nobody now. What if doing this could make him a somebody? Should it even matter? Why was he out here deciding if saving a life would make him famous? He was momentarily ashamed of himself. He should go in and help, regardless of the outcome, because it was the right thing to do. He firmed his resolved and plunged through the door into a dark and empty lobby.
The screams came from the second floor, so Taylor made his way to the stairs and headed up. His arrival at the second floor was punctuated by another blood curdling scream. Now that he was closer, he was sure these screams were not screams of pain, but rather terror. He was not sure why he continued. He opened the door at the top of the stairwell to the second-floor hall. He stepped into a nightmare. Several broken lamps sporadically dangled along the hallway, making the already dim lighting of the hallway even less. He was thankful for the lack of light, for it made what he could see seem less horrific. Bodies lay broken and bleeding in a twisted path down the hall. Someone, or something had run a gauntlet of flesh and left it broken. It was hard to determine if the damage to the walls and ceiling were made from the quake or whatever had passed through here.
Once again, he had no idea what prompted him to continue, but he did. Carefully he stepped around the gored bodies. Flesh was ripped asunder like strips of cloth cut with shears. Blood pooled and funneled against the left wall and Taylor had to hop occas
ionally to avoid stepping in it. Several times he passed an open, or sometimes smashed-in doorway. He glanced in the first one, but after what he witnessed inside, he stopped looking. He neared the end of the hallway, which cornered to the left. He heard the sounds. He would never forget those sounds. Not really knowing what he was hearing at first, it sounded as if someone was sipping soup and then chewing on glass. Taylor stepped cautiously around the corner and froze.
A few meters away, hunched over a corpse of a man whose belly was torn away, stood a monster. He didn’t believe in monsters, but his belief didn’t stop this one from standing just meters away. With a man’s abdomen and ribs sticking out from its mouth, it crunched on the bones and flesh. The creature was huge, not only tall, easily taller than Taylor, but wide of body, as well. It resembled a pig, or a boar with its’ facial features, ridged back and cloven feet. Its body was that of an incredibly muscular man. Brown hair covered its body, darkening to almost black at the ridge on its back. Two blood soaked tusks jutted from its lower jaw. Taylor found he couldn’t move. He had never in his entire life been as terrified as he was right now. He stood mesmerized as the creature lowered its jaws again and tore off another piece of flesh. He heard it suck in the blood oozing from the torn flesh as if it couldn’t stand to lose one drop.
It was at that moment the creature looked down the hallway at Taylor. As soon as the thing made eye contact with Taylor, it rose up to its full height, which, as Taylor had guessed, was very tall. Taylor stood frozen as the beast tossed the body aside, hearing it strike with a disgusting thud against the wall. Taylor watched with petrified fascination as the thing took one step, then another, and another. Slowly it advanced on him, as if taunting him to try to run, which is exactly what he did. Taylor turned and ran as fast as he could, his long, skinny legs dashing around the corner and down the hallway. He had to swerve right and left to avoid the bodies and pools of blood that could cause him to stumble or slip. He knew if he fell, he was a dead man. He was nearing the end of the hallway and the door to the stairs. He glanced back. The thing was almost on him. He wasn’t going to make it. Begging his body to give him more speed, he felt himself quicken. He was moments from the door when he felt the agonizing pain. The impact lifted him off his feet. The last thing he saw was the wall coming to meet him.
THE AWAKENING: Part One (The Lycan War Saga Book 1) Page 12
