I can't believe I have to end my day with him, Donald thought grimly, as he walked into a brightly coloured children's medical office, painted with savannah animals, with a polite smile.
"Hello there, my name is Doctor Andrews and I'll be assisting you today. I heard your daughter may have the same infection going around?" Donald asked the middle-aged black woman in front of him with an audibly forced eagerness.
Sitting on the bed that was covered in paper was a young girl covered by a sick mask as she hacked into it repeatedly, her little body quivering likely due to the fever. He didn't bother listening to the woman tell him of her daughter's symptoms, he could already tell she was afflicted with the same virus everyone else had come in with the last few weeks. Thankfully after his tedious shift, he was going to visit Gina, if she hadn't gotten sick herself, and hopefully come home to a quiet house with his son asleep, not having to bear the silent judgement from his son. Lucas had been giving him more attitude of late. Donald believed it was because of the thought that he had slipped into the bottle again. He resented the thought, because the truth was he had been staying out late after work to go meet a woman he had started to like, as much as he hated to admit it. He was sick of Lucas always thinking he was just some drunk, so he sobered up and picked up a healthier, yet more expensive, vice.
But he didn't want to burden himself with more of his son's petty scorn. Lucas hated him enough, why give him more reason? Donald let out a deep sigh from his nose. No matter who I bring home, whore or not, all he will see is someone who isn't her, he thought bitterly. Donald checked off a list on his board as he noted everything the child seemingly had, merely nodding along to the voice in the background.
Once she had finished, he put his pen in his coat pocket and said, not bothering to meet the eyes of the anxious mother, "Someone will come check on her after you take her to the sick bay, you may stay with her as long as you have masks."
As he exited the room, he began visiting more and more patients who had fallen ill due to an outbreak of a strange, fever-like disease 19 days ago.The research for the virus was being conducted in other departments, but despite all the time that had passed they had yielded no results. Thankfully it contaminated at random, being close to the sick, not infecting anyone unless they had poor luck. Nobody could make any sense of what it was or how it had begun. It started out as something everyone imagined to be an autumn cold, just a result of the changing weather. Then people started shutting down completely, to the point outside interaction had been strongly advised against by health professionals. If a quarantine won't be issued today, it will be soon. Maybe then Lucas will stop going out without my permission, Donald thought. He walked out the room with a drag to his step, the hesitance to visit the crooked man subconsciously slowing him from his inevitable destination. He stepped into the elevator, clicking the button that took you to the hospital's surgery floor.
His co-worker, Oliver, called out "Hold the door!", to which Donald begrudgingly did.
As they began ascending, Oliver asked him in a voice caught between a childlike, giddy excitement and unease, "So, any updates on…the patient?". Donald swallowed a lump in his throat, his mind flashing to the horrible, twisted man.
"Ever since he stopped making audible noises, he's just been twisting and turning," he paused, his own nervousness slowly rising into his voice.
"They tried to send someone in to get a closer look, but he tried attacking them again," Oliver whistled in surprise as the elevator's ascent to the surgery floor ended and the doors opened.
"Well, in a couple days we'll finally get to see what's inside the crooked man," he said with a hint of excitement in his voice. Donald let out an unenthusiastic hum of agreement.
They entered what was once a viewing area for medical students to watch live surgeries be performed, now turned into a surveillance area for the crooked man. 33 days ago a man was taken to the ER after being found in a popular stargazing outside the city. He was convulsing, suffering from a deathly fever, and did not respond to any sort of contact, audible or physical. After no solution was found to help him he was transferred to a Seattle hospital to have more tests done when the doctors noticed his bones had begun to grow.
Around 15 days after he had first been found, his bones had begun to grow and twist on their own. Slowly and gradually, they became more uncanny in length and angle. What was once a thin, 5 '10 man with matted black hair and an unremarkable face became a 6' 6, malformed, breathing cadaver. Donald hated keeping this thing a secret, he hated having to deal with how upset the wife of the man was.
Their fellow colleague, Fiona Willibald, waited by the blood analyzers that had just come in after issuing them when they had first received the man. "We had the blood samples brought down, they've already been unfrozen"
To which Donald replied in a tone not hiding his annoyance at the tardiness, "You'd think with something like this they would have a bit more urgency".
Fiona looked through the window, down into the operating room turned holding cell, as she replied with a toneless voice, "This man isn't the only person with problems, that virus that has been spreading is really putting a hold on most of any requests,"
Donald scoffed at her explanation. "I don't know about you, but I feel this," he said in a defensive tone, pointing to the window looking downwards to the crooked man, "is much more concerning than just some widespread flu. The guy barely looks alive. It is nothing like anyone who is in on this has ever heard of".
Fiona crossed the room as she stared down at the man, replying without looking at Donald in a cautionary voice. "Looks like no matter what we focus on, someone suffers".
Oliver shuddered at the words, yet his irritating grin still remained on his face as he walked up to the window and peered down at the patient.
"Come on, lighten up you two. Today's the day we submit the blood tests! A few days from now, we'll know what's going on inside Mr. Trabber," he said far too enthusiastically.
Donald couldn't stand how obvious his fascination with the morbid aspect of their job was, but maybe it was different in this case. Maybe he just couldn't stand someone acting like this was some sort of science experiment rather than a tragedy. A couple more doctors from different fields whose names Donald couldn't be bothered to remember slowly trickled in, each of them always checking through the lookout window as soon as they came down.
"It'll be awhile before we get anything, but we should compare what we've found from our last tests," Oliver said, entering the blood samples into the analyzers.
Everyone had sat down at a foldable rectangular table, each person having a file containing any notes or research done in their perspective about the crooked man. Donald could tell everyone in the room thought the same thing. Oliver looked towards everyone after they entered the blood samples into the analyzers and His expression, not hiding how uncomfortable it was, each one of them turned to eye each other with unnerved expressions. The unease they felt over the case of what was once Benjamin Trabber, whether the fact every ligament in his body had been contorting and bending in a disgusting way for the last two weeks as if his skeleton wasn't the right fit for his skin, how his body had shown all signs of decay despite his heart having not missed a beat in the 33 days he had been under their surveillance. The sight of the man, if you could call him that anymore, induced goosebumps whenever Donald saw him. His eyes had sunk into his skull, and his skin turned ghostly pale with bits of purplish-red and blue in some areas rather than having fully started decomposing by now, the process seeming to happen at a far slower rate. The most unsettling part to Donald, was that every instance of trying to get near him resulted in him thrashing violently and trying to break free of his restraints as if he had rabies, snapping at them with teeth that were black with rot. Little was left to imagine what he would do if he got out.
They began going in a circle and one by one droned on about their theories and notes, Donald could not find it in him to listen, too preoccupied with his thoughts of what could have caused this. Surely nothing human is capable of making a person into…that, Donald thought. When they had all finished talking about their notes, the awkward silence lay around the room like a fog, but Donald had an inking suspicion as to what they were all thinking. An older man in his seventies broke the silence before anyone spoke of any of their notes. "We need to report this…this thing to someone. With that outbreak of that sickness, which nobody has any clue of its origin either, we need people to be aware they can perhaps catch what this man has!". Donald cut into the conversation with a voice like a whip, motivated by that feeling of doom, "And tell them what? We still haven't notified this man's goddamn family on what is happening with him. What will telling anyone do but cause panic? Nobody even knows what is making him like this!". The old man, Donald seeing his name was Dr. Orros on his nametag, had a perplexed, slightly offended look while his mouth hung agape as if it was hanging on by a few strings.
As the group of doctors stood in silence, the thought of what to do next burdening them all, a muffled, yet low "help!" from the operating room broke the silence.
Some of them, Donald being one, immediately pressed up against the glass to stare down where the crooked man laid, while others froze in place and merely glanced in the direction of the sound. As Donald's mouth gaped at the man, who had been acting like a dog with rabies for the last month, he spoke again. Its voice was dry and coarse, as if it had swallowed sand before speaking.
"Help me… ', it croaked, looking straight at the ceiling as if unaware of his surroundings.As the crooked man laid eerily still in the chair, Jane Follock, a cute young thing, nervously called out to the man through the window.
"Mr. Trabber?" The crooked man's head snapped up to the surveillance window, its previously lifeless grey eye widening as it just stared at the group through the glass. Its entire body was shaking in the restraints as it gazed upon them with focused eyes, like a bird of prey's. Its jaw went slack as it stared at them, the black inside of its mouth looking like a dark pit waiting to swallow you whole. Donald felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his forehead as Jane took a couple steps back with a breathless gasp. The crooked man began trying to wriggle its left arm free. In the few seconds it erratically thrashed its arm as much as it could while binded, a sickening, muffled snapping sound came from the wrist as the crooked man suddenly pulled a dangling, broken wrist out of the restraints it had already slowly been growing out of. The crooked man looked at the arm with a look of indifference. Donald couldn't stand waiting for something terrible to happen anymore, he bolted across the room to the elevator as he pressed the button.
Oliver called out, "Where are you going?"
Donald just snapped back, "Anywhere but here! We can all tell ourselves this is some sort of medical anomaly or something we just don't understand, but whatever this, it isn't something human! And I am not going to wait around until I regret it!".
Donald turned to the elevator doors when finally opened, a wait which felt like an eternity as he had been keeping his eye on the surveillance window due to a pit of paranoia in his stomach, he went in and said firmly, yet urgently. An older woman quickly strutted to the elevator door right after Donald.Donald pressed the button leading to the ground floor, as Follock began quickly darting to the elevator.
Fiona turned to Oliver as she said in a commanding tone, "Call two security guards, once they get here we'll go in at a safe distance and see what's changed,"
"Are you sure? I mean, I'm all for checking out the guy but doesn't this seem…weird?" Oliver asked in a light-hearted tone, trying to throw off the shadow of anxiety behind it.
Fiona hesitated, heeding his words for just a moment before shaking her head. "Do it, we owe it to his family to try. If he tries to attack again, we'll leave,"
Donald, along with Jane, and the older woman, had stepped into the elevator as they watched Orros narrow his eyes as he peered down the surveillance window.
When the elevator finally got to the ground floor, he quickly brushed past the other two as he stormed down the hallways. As people in the hospital, staff and patient alike, gave him looks of concern, he heard Follock behind him yell out, "Call some security guards to the surgery wing, to room 114! Quickly!". Donald turned back, still trotting backwards, as he saw Jane was pleading with the front desk, while the older women had already turned to go somewhere far from that damnable crooked man. Shit, I have to get home to Lucas! I gotta make sure he's inside, Donald thought, swallowing back the bile rising all too quickly in his throat. He pushed past confused and concerned bystanders as he ran towards his car in the parking lot by the side of the building. He got into his car and failed to plug his key into the exhaust twice due to his shaking hands before finally starting the car. When he sped out of the lot, nearly hitting another car backing out, he was met with an unfortunately timed series of red lights. At the third red light, he let out a yell of frustration as he smacked the wheel several times. "GOD-DAMMIT!", he cried out. Am I overreacting? It felt so fucking wrong to be in there, and there's all these other sick people, I need to remind him to stay inside! Why can't he just listen to me, for Christ's sake!?, he thought with an anguished grimace. He could feel the sweat on his palms and the shakiness of his hands make it just the slightest bit harder to keep holding the wheel tightly.
As he got onto the highway, an ear splitting sound cut through the normal bustling of a city. Donald didn't even know what he was hearing at first, it was as if a jet engine had turned on right beside his ears. Traffic jammed so abruptly Donald had to slam the brakes to prevent rear ending the person in front of him, and he could hear other cars crashing ahead and behind him. As Donald cursed at the man through his window, the sound slowly died down as Donald scanned around him to see where the sound had come from, but it didn't take more than a second to see the shadow that had suddenly been cast over the city. Donald noticed more and more people stopping the array of honking from their cars, slowly getting out of their vehicles as if they had been put under a spell. Donald scrunched up his face in bewilderment, but did the same. When he got out of the car and saw the large, snow-white metallic crescent several hundred meters into the sky, he had to blink several times. He heard awes of wonder and confusion as they stared at this pale, false moon.
All Donald could seem to think though was that he wouldn't be able to get to Lucas. He heard the man in front of him say in a disbelieving tone, "Dear God, what is that?". His wife on the other side of the car had no time to offer a response before the Crescent emitted another near deafening noise, this time much more shrill. It sounded like a cross between an iceberg breaking underwater and an emergency siren. The noise was constantly repeating, slowing down, and rewinding all at once. Back and forth, in and out, to the point it drove him to one knee as his hand kept himself stable by clutching his car door. It went on for a mere 18 seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. By the time it was over, he didn't even get up due to reeling from how loud it was, his eyes shut tight in fear. He only opened his eyes and stood a minute after, once he had heard the first shriek from a woman down the highway.
As he stood and looked past the rows of people and cars that had gathered on the highway, he saw a woman watching in horror, screaming like she had seen the devil himself. She stumbled backwards, hands clasped over her mouth as what seemed to be her boyfriend screamed in agony as a woman had begun mauling his ribcage with her teeth, blood already covering his entire torso as he was pressed against the side of a truck.More screams of pain and fear erupted all around Donald, making him do a 180° as he saw more and more people on the highway turning to the person next to them and begin sinking their teeth into them. It all began happening so fast all Donald could do was begin running as fast as his god-given legs could take him down the road. As he ran he had to skid to a stop as he saw two obese men on top of an older man, the crimson life of the senior sliding down the road. He saw the two men turned hypnotized cannibals slowly turn to him and begin standing up, albeit with difficulty. Donald made no wait for them as he ran through the cars to his side as he made it back onto the street, where the scene had remained apocalyptic in nature.
Sisters devouring brothers, husbands ripping wives' throats out with bare teeth, the old feasting on the young, and the children. God- even the children were eaters and eaten. Donald had no time to wipe his tears of horror out of his eyes before he was tackled to the ground, a feeling he hadn't felt since high school football. He let out a breathless gasp of pain as he hit the cold concrete as a young man in a golden yellow and violet purple basketball jersey snapped his teeth at him, barely being held back by Donald's kicks and shoves. He felt saliva hit his cheek as he finally got a powerful kick right into the man's stomach, throwing him off. Donald scrambled upwards and began bolting down the street, weaving through and shoving aside every one of the sudden man-eaters with as much as he could muster. He made no effort to turn his head back, as the constant footsteps and familiar yells of human suffering made it apparent that his chase would not be over so easily. So he ran, his leather shoes rubbing against his heel like sandpaper. Smoking cars lay about the road like leaves scattered by the wind, some people still inside them either from having crashed, or petrified in fear. The skyscrapers and tall buildings that laid on the side of every street made it feel like he would never get out, and alleyways he hoped would lead to some sort of escape instead housed more carnage. It was as if he was trapped in some labyrinth of steel and concrete.
Eventually it was as if his feet had disappeared. He collapsed in the middle of the street, propping himself up as he heaved. His lungs felt as if they had been filled with fire, he hacked and coughed until he finally looked up. A block down the street, more of the man-eaters shambled towards him. They moved as if they had little idea of how to even use their legs, their knees bending inwards and their feet stepping as if there had been ice under them. Donald looked around him as he slowly stood up, his own legs quivering. He saw more people running away, others being food for the man-eaters. In the distance, Donald heard faint gunshots, a sound which strangely made him begin to cry. His sobs lead him to throw his head back in a deranged manner as he let out a laugh. This is really happening, he thought with a hopeless smile on his lips. He turned and began shambling down the street, his legs still begging for more rest, until he turned the corner and saw it. The Crescent's milky metallic exterior shone off the sun, making Donald have to squint to get a good look at it. It was massive, Donald guessed it must have been larger than several football fields in height and length. The more Donald looked at it, the more he saw it was so identical to the actual crescent moon that if it was farther away he wouldn't look twice. He wondered if that had happened. The Crescent just sat quietly in the sky as if that was where it belonged, as if it had done no wrong, and now that it had appeared that all was right in the world. As Donald gazed at the shape of apocalypse, he heard the sound of unbalanced shoes treading towards him with the sounds of snapping teeth to follow. Donald closed his eyes and let out a trembling breath, trying to think of anything to calm his nerves. Michelle…I don't wanna meet you again so soon, Donald thought with the familiar ghost of shame that came with remembering her.He tried to stand up and run again, his mind reaching for all the reasons he had to keep living. Lucas, get up for Lucas! He needs you! Donald thought to himself, the sound of masses of snapping teeth getting closer. But he could only let out a breath of amusement at that, for he knew it wasn't true.
They hadn't needed each other in a long time.