by Andrew Peed
She pulled the gloves on. Immediately the stones began to glow. She put her bag back on and made sure that the straps were nice and tight. Standing up, she took a deep breath.
Using the gloves was straightforward. She opened her palms and tapped the two stones against one another. A pules of energy was release. As she spread the stones away from each other a line of energy formed between them. If she moved toward the source of magical energy, the line would become stronger and thicker. If she moved away, it would die down.
She held her hands about a foot apart, and there was a good, thick line of blue-white energy humming between them. The line stayed strong as she made her way down the path. This not only meant that she was heading in the correct direction, but that whatever the magic was coming from was close. She really hoped that the only thing in the park putting off magic was the hellhound.
Kaylie walked for a while, keeping the direction energy focused. She passed by several people in the park who seemed to be living where they were laying. It felt unfair for her to try and relate when she had only been living out of a car for a couple of days. She had been able to find a new home fairly easily.
The park had a small collection of buildings toward the middle. They were very old and had either been updated or protected. The oldest of the buildings, a mill, still had the old water wheel. It didn’t spin, however, having been broken off of its axis long ago. The other buildings had been converted into two bathrooms, a gift shop, and an office, most of which looked like they hadn’t been used in quite some time.
The direction energy was pointing her straight toward the oldest mill building. Of course, she sighed to herself, stepping over the small fence that had been built to somehow protect the old building. More likely the fence had been to deter people from doing exactly what she was about to do.
She tapped the stones together, killing the directional energy. The line went out with a pop, and more darkness filled the air around her. The front door was not locked or blocked in any way.
Kaylin leaned inside. She snapped her fingers, causing a white light to spawn on the end of her pointer finger and thumb. The light filled the room as she held it up high over her head.
Years ago, the building must have been an alchemist’s den. There were beakers, kettles, huge pots—everything in the building was centered around a magical motor powered by the water wheel.
She walked inside the building and pulled the door closed. A figure in the shadow of a corner caught her eye. It was a small dog, a Yorkie. Kaylie took her phone out from her pocket and pointed the camera at the small dog trembling in the corner. She thought surely it was not the hellhound.
The camera on the phone showed her that he most certainly was the hound she was looking for. Though to her, he looked like an innocent Yorkie, his magical presence was that of a massive black dog. It would have been terrifying had it not been cowering in the corner.
Kaylie knelt down as nicely as she could and held out a hand to the pup. The witch had told her that he was just a puppy, and she wasn’t wrong.
“Come here, boy,” she said, trying not to startle him.
The dog started to whine. Kaylie reared back. She had never heard of a hellhound whining. They were mostly killing machines, collecting as much soul energy as they could. A shadow cast from behind her made her extremely nervous.
She stood up straight slowly without making any sudden movements. Just as slowly, she turned her head around to see what was walking up behind her.
Drool dripped down from the crooked grin of a ten-foot-tall orc. She’d never seen one in person before. She chuckled nervously and smiled at the beast.
It was going to be a rough night.
Chapter 09: You’re a Warlock, Waylon
Waylon stood at the front door to the West End Medical Center. Without even entering the building, he knew that he had his work cut out for him. The exterior was falling apart, and there was trash all over the outside of the building.
His heart sank, and he let out a long sigh as he decided to finally walk into the building. The left of the two sliding doors stuck as he tried to pass through them. Sitting in the corner of the small glass entryway was a junkie who looked like he was on the edge of death. Waylon couldn’t be sure, but it might have been too late for him already.
The ER was deserted. When he walked up to the reception counter, there was no one to be seen. He walked over and leaned on the counter, trying to get a better look down the hallways to either side. Down the right hallway, the doors were all closed, and there was a call light flashing. When he turned and looked down the left hall, the lights were all off, and the doors were all closed as well.
“Hello?” Waylon called out down the echoing hallway.
There was no answer, but he really didn’t expect one. He didn’t have any identification, so he wasn’t really supposed to just walk around in the hospital freely. Though it wasn’t like anyone would even notice if he tried it.
“There is a man dying in the entry,” he called out. His voice trailed off to silence.
Waylon huffed a sigh and backed away from the counter. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he shivered against the cold. Normally, he didn’t react much to the cold, but it seemed like there was a concentrated cold in the old hospital. A cold that made its way down to the bone. He wished that he would have grabbed his coat before he left the house. If he had to dress warmer at least he got to wear his favorite coat. It was the only thing that his father had left behind.
Waylon walked a loop around the small waiting room. He was hoping that someone would come out so that he could get a pass so that he could check out how deep of a mess he was in. Eventually he wandered over to one of the chairs and dropped down. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and there was no padding left under his butt. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
He hadn’t checked any of his social media in a while, and he had also forgotten to take down the ad that he had put up looking for a roommate. He went through each of the social apps, and there was nothing that really concerned him. No messages or anything. There was a post by Blake describing how hard he was having to work now that he was in charge. Waylon tapped to like it.
He checked on the ad. There was one message that was asking about what was included and if there were any wooded areas nearby. He sent the person a message in return that politely said that he was no longer looking.
Over half an hour passed before the front doors slid open the best they could, and a woman in scrubs walked in. She had a black scarf with sparkly bits wrapped around her neck. She wore a beanie and was shivering in the cold. There was a backpack in her hands, and she pulled a laminated badge from her pocket.
When she walked over to the door that led into the nurse’s area and waved her badge in front of the scanner next to the door, nothing happened. She waved it five more times, and still nothing happened. It didn’t even give her a red light like the badge was denied.
Waylon shoved his phone back into his pocket, stood up, and walked over to her. He awkwardly attempted to get her attention for a moment while she kept swiping the badge. Once he became frustrated, he put his hand up to stop her and gently moved her out of the way.
“Who are you?” she asked, filled with frustration.
“Waylon,” he said as he knelt down and found a reset button on the bottom of the scanner. He pulled a paper clip out of his pocket—he always carried one while he was at work—and bent it straight then poked the paperclip into the small recess that protected the reset button. He held the button down for a thirty count, and when he pulled the paper clip out, the box beeped. “The new IT guy.” He moved out of the way and motioned for her to try swiping again.
The nurse swiped her badge. Instantly, a green light flashed, and a quiet beep indicated that the door was unlocked. She pulled the door open and ducked inside. Waylon hovered back a little bit from the door.
“Well, are you coming?” the nurse asked. She caught the door just before it
latched with her foot and held it open for him.
“Uh, yeah,” Waylon said, pulling the door open and walking inside with her.
“You’ve got to get a badge. Like it will do you much good.” The nurse walked into a back room of the nurse’s area. She dropped her bag and clocked in on the oldest timeclock that Waylon had ever seen. It was still totally mechanical, which, from looking at the state of things, was probably why it still worked.
“And where do I get one of those?” Waylon asked, pointing at the badge.
“Let me get situated, then I’ll take you down to admin. If there’s no one there, I’m sure we can figure it out,” she said, giving Waylon a stressed smile. She took off her scarf and grabbed her bag as well and shoved them both into a locker. She took the key from the locker and put it around her wrist.
“First rule, don’t leave anything lying around,” the nurse said.
“Got it,” Waylon said with an understanding nod. He followed her around the room, trying not to get in the way. “Where is everyone else?” he asked.
“Well, there are supposed to be two nurses on call right now. One of them is probably on the roof smoking pot. The other either didn’t show up or is off somewhere sleeping,” she said hurriedly, checking over some paperwork. “I’m not allowed to come in early anymore because it’s an insurance liability, so here we are,” she said in a huff.
“Why don’t they get fired?” Waylon asked.
“I think the company that owns the hospital has sort of given up on it,” the nurse explained. “No one really cares unless it’s costing money. We don’t even get many patients anymore. The ones we do, we can only help so much because the city passed a ‘third chance’ law.”
“What is a third chance law?” Waylon asked. They left the nurse’s area and walked down the first hallway. She checked in the rooms that had their call lights on.
“If you are admitted to the hospital more than twice for drug overdose, we are not supposed to help you,” she said as they walked. To Waylon’s surprise, most of the rooms, though their lights were on, were empty. They only found one that had someone in it, and they were fast asleep.
“That’s kind of messed up,” Waylon said after she came back out.
“What are you going to do?” She shrugged. “My name is Alma.”
“Nice to meet you.” Waylon nodded. He didn’t offer to shake her hand. She was wearing gloves that were covered in blood.
“Look, I wish they would shut this hellhole down. Then it would force me to go and get a job at a better hospital,” Alma said, sounding defensive. “I’m just not a self-starter. I have a job, and it pays the bills. I don’t want to upset that.”
“No judgment from me,” Waylon said and threw up his hands.
Their conversation was interrupted by the door to the roof bursting open. A pale woman stumbled down the stairway wearing dark-blue scrubs. Her hair was in a rat’s nest on the top of her head, and she smelled so strongly of pot that Waylon was sure he was going to get a contact high.
“This is Gloria,” Alma said, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head.
“What’s up, stretch?” Gloria said with a flick of her chin at Waylon.
“Gloria, this is our new IT guy, Waylon,” Alma said with a loud sigh.
“Wonderful, maybe he can get the TVs working,” Gloria said with a chuckle.
“Maybe.” Alma waved Gloria down the hall. “Let’s go get you that badge,” she said, leading Waylon deeper down the left wing of the hospital.
They came to a window. The glass was made so that inside of it there was a metal mesh. Behind the glass, sitting on a tall stool, was a woman who Waylon was sure was a hundred plus years old. She looked so frail that a strong wind would have turned her into dust.
“This is Waylon, the IT guy. He needs his badge,” Alma said to the old woman.
“Mr. Ivan called us this morning and told us that you would be coming today.” She spoke so slowly that it was like she was saying each letter of each word. She slid an envelope through a small slit in the bottom of the glass.
Waylon took the envelope. Inside he found a badge that was still warm from being laminated. He also found a list that was at least two feet long of things that weren’t working correctly.
“Mr. Ivan sent that list over for you. Thank you,” the old woman said.
“Well, looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Alma said as she clapped Waylon on the shoulder.
“Where is the IT closet?” Waylon asked. He folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket.
“This way,” she said and beckoned for him to follow her.
They went all the way to the end of the left hallway to a flight of stairs and an elevator. At the bottom of the stairs were two doors. The door straight across from the stairs was the morgue. The other door to the right of the stairs was the IT room.
“Always take the stairs,” Alma said before turning and walking back the way they had come.
Waylon leaned over and slammed his head into the wall. He sighed and waved his badge in front of the scanner that would unlock the IT room. Nothing happened. As it turned out, it didn’t matter. He leaned on the door to kneel down to look at the bottom of the scanner, and it swung open.
He turned the light on, which did work, and walked inside the room. It wasn’t huge, but for once he wouldn’t feel claustrophobic working. To the left were the servers that the computers in the hospital worked off of, and to the left was a workbench with some tools. There were a dozen broken clients PCs stacked haphazardly on the table. At the back of the room was a shelf that held parts that went to everything electronic in the hospital. He was fairly certain that none of it was good. It all looked old and used.
Waylon walked over to the bench and picked up the tool belt that was hanging off a hook screwed into the table. He put it on and referred to the list. His first goal would be to shoot for getting three things done per day. That might be easy, or it might be hard, but he got paid the same either way. A place that was this abused was usually held together by tech voodoo that you didn’t want to mess with.
There were three clients on the list who weren’t working in patient rooms. These were important machines, so he decided that was where he was going to start.
~//~
Fixing the first two clients was a breeze. They just needed to be cleaned, and now they were working great. The last one was a little trickier. They were all in patient rooms, but the last room actually had a patient in it.
Waylon found his way back to the nurse’s station, where he found Alma juggling about six things while Gloria sat on the counter reading a magazine. He didn’t like the situation, but he could understand Alma not wanting to do anything about it. In the same situation he probably wouldn’t have done anything.
“Can I possibly help you, wonder boy?” Alma asked.
“Yeah, the client in room twelve needs to be looked at,” Waylon said.
“Very good. That is your job.” Gloria chuckled.
“There is a patient in that room. I was hoping that you could let her know what I was going to do before I just barge in there,” Waylon said and gave Gloria a nasty look. She stuck her tongue out in return. It was pierced.
“Sure.” Alma sighed. “I need to check on her anyway.” She motioned for him to follow.
They walked down the hallway to room twelve. The handwritten sign on the wall by the door said “Ella.” Alma opened the door, knocking while she did so, and walked inside.
Waylon walked around outside of the room in the hallway. He started tracing the cables that were bundled in the corner of the ceiling. The building was very old, and a lot of the automation had come way after it had been built. If anyone were to ask his opinion, he would tell them that the place needed to be demolished.
“You can come in now, Waylon,” Alma called from inside the room.
Waylon made a few mental notes about the cables that were running along the ceiling. He was going
to have to do a network map at some point, and he was sure that he could clean up a few hundred feet of the old cable.
He walked into the room. Ella was a young girl. By Waylon’s estimation, she was about eleven or twelve. He felt sad seeing her in the bed. She had IVs in her arms and oxygen tubes in her nose.
“Hello, Ella,” Waylon said when she looked up at him.
“Are you going to fix my TV?” Ella asked. She sounded very weak.
“You know what? I’ve got something else to fix first, but before I leave, I will do my best.” Waylon smiled.
“I like him.” Ella looked at Alma. “A lot better than the angry Russian guy.”
“That’s true, but it might be too early to tell,” Alma said under her breath, still loud enough for Waylon to hear. She patted Ella on the arm and smiled, but there was a deeper sadness that Waylon got a hint of for a moment.
“Well, get used to me,” Waylon retorted.
The client was on the wall next to the bed. It was a small lightweight computer that didn’t have a lot of resources, but it connected to the server, and that was where all the magic happened.
He tried to boot it, but when he pressed the button, absolutely nothing happened. He reached around the back and pulled the power cord. He waited for a few seconds. Alma and Ella chatted amongst themselves.
When Waylon plugged the computer back in, still nothing happened. He took a screwdriver off of his belt and removed the side of the case. Upon inspection, he didn’t see anything wrong with the thing. He decided that he would probably need to take it down to the workshop and rebuild it, or just try and get one of the others working. He completely unhooked it and carried it over to the door.
He turned his attention to the TV. It was an older TV. At least it was an LCD, but it looked like it had been hanging on that wall for the better part of ten years. He turned it on to a ton of static. Flipping through a few channels, it didn’t get any better than the first.
He reached up and checked the cable. It was a poor-quality cable, but it was intact, and it was installed correctly. The cable was nice and tight. There was no reason for the TV’s signal to not be clearer, or at least watchable.
