The Wyrms of &alon

One of the most important lessons a medical student could learn was the undesirable truth that, in emergencies, a physician ran the risk of being his own enemy. The only deadlier foes were time and disease itself. When you were in an emergency situation, leaping from moment to moment by the skin of your crisis-stained teeth, it was all too easy to fall into the trap of losing yourself in those moments and forgetting to think of all the interconnections. Once, while on student clinic duty, a female patient had come in with a severe nosebleed. Bucket-filled-with-blood-soaked rags severe. Not even bothering to inquire about the cause, I’d done what any sensible medical student would have done: I got out the wand and cauterized the wound and then spent several minutes squinting up the woman’s nostrils until I was convinced it had stopped before calling it a day and releasing her back into the urban wilds. Three minutes later, she was halfway to the exit when she blacked out and went into tachycardia. The reason? She’d been bleeding internally. At the end of the day, the only thing that saved her—and us—was that the shift director had been perspicacious enough to ask the patient about the medications she took. Turned out she’d accidentally overdosed on her prescription blood thinner. When I went back to my apartment at the end of my shift, I shelved any dreams I had of becoming a neurosurgeon. It was not for me.

I knew myself well enough to know that I didn’t do well under pressure.

Speak of the Beast…

“Fudge!” I snarled. “Fudge fudge fudge!”

Somewhere in between the blood rushing through my temples, I noted the irony that, now, it was the allure of losing myself in the moment that had given me the upper hand. The nurses that came rushing in to help Dave and Merritt’s nurse only saw Dave and Merritt’s nurse. Beyond “they were thrown against the wall!”, the nurses hadn’t thought to ask for the details of what had happened. Given that I was prancing about like a husband whose wife was in labor—shaking my hands and head, shivering in terror—that wasn’t surprising.

In a frantic voice, I told the nurses that they’d slipped and fallen, slamming into the table’s unforgiving edge. Heggy stood beside me, iron-faced. It turned out their ribs had been broken, and that Dave had some mild internal bleeding. I imagined they were in surgery now; I hoped that that would be the end of their troubles for the day.

Mine, however, were just getting started.

While I helped lift Dave and Merritt’s nurse into rolling beds, Dr. Marteneiss had gone over to the nearest supply closet, pulled out a syringe of entafferin out from the refrigerated emergency cabinet, and then marched into the MRI room and injected the stimulant straight into Merritt’s IV line, knocking her out of her noxtifellic daze. And Heggy did it all without saying a word.

With someone like Heggy, silence was never a good sign.

As soon as the nurses were out of sight, I stepped into the MRI chamber and walked up to my colleague. I could have sworn her hand trembled as she dropped the syringe into the nearby orange biohazard disposal bin.

“Are there any empty examination rooms nearby?” she asked.

“Y-Yes,” I stuttered, “I saw one just down the hall.”

“We’re goin’. Now.”

Merritt was already stirring as Heggy and I lifted her onto her bed.

Heggy glanced at me. “Breathe, Genneth. Just breathe.”

I tried to, but my heart wouldn’t stop racing. I tugged at my yellow bow-tie. Sweat weaved its way down my scalp.

I grabbed the leading end of the bed in hand while Heggy pushed from behind. We wheeled Merritt out of the imaging room, down the hallway, around the corner, and through the door of the empty examination room—Room J67.

Heggy slammed the door shut behind us. The noise made me flinch.

“Before we do anything else,” I said, “I want to make sure Merritt is okay.”

Dr. Marteneiss squeezed her hands into fists and then darted over to the glove dispenser and pulled out a fresh, pear-scented pair. She kept her gaze fixed at Merritt nearly the whole time, slowly shaking her head as she snapped the latex on.

Eyes blinking, Merritt moaned quietly. She was coming around.

Heggy shook her hands as if to dry them. “Genneth, for the love of all that’s holy, please tell me that was just magnets bein’ magnets.”

“I don’t know what it was,” I said. “And just because Brand knows about magnets, it doesn’t mean I understand any of it.

“No,” Heggy said, with a grunt. “Not what it was.” Her words faded into colorlessness. “What you saw.”

What I saw?

“I saw them sent flying to the wall.”

“G-Genneth…?” Merritt mumbled.

The sedative had worn off.

Slowly, Mrs. Elbock sat up in her bed and looked around. “Where am I?” She turned to me. “How…?”

Heggy stepped forward, with both palms facing Merritt, as if she was walking up to a wild bear. “Mrs. Elbock… I’m gonna need you to stay as calm as you can for me. Can you do that, honey?”

Merritt turned to me. Wrinkles tightened in the corners of her eyes. “Where is she, Genneth?” she asked.

“Where is who?” I said.

“The little girl.”

Say what?

“She was so sad,” Merritt said. “I wanted to help, but… I…”

Dr. Marteneiss butted in before I could get another word in edgewise. “Maybe it was just a dream,” she said. “Please, Mrs. Elbock—Merritt—try and focus on yourself for a moment.”

“Is the scan done?” Merritt asked. “Please,” she begged, “did you find anything? Can you fix this?”

“First,” Heggy said, “I need to know how you feel. Is anything out of the ordinary?”

Merritt shrugged. “I’m dead. Isn’t that out of the ordinary enough?”

“Think carefully,” Heggy said, hesitantly. “Feel carefully.”

Out in the hallway, something fell to the floor. It made a loud thump and was met with yelling.

Years of synesthesia had conditioned Merritt to flinch at every loud, unexpected noise that came her way, squinting her eyes in a futile effort to block the flashing, billowing lights that danced across her vision whenever she was struck by a sudden noise. But this time, Mrs. Elbock’s eyes blinked open far sooner than they ever had before. The three-second count she usually mumbled was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she turned to me, staring at me with eyes gone as wide as saucers.

“It’s…” she shook her head incredulously, “Genneth, it’s gone.”

“Huh?” Heggy grunted. “What’s—”

“—the sound-to-light synesthesia!” I said, cutting her off.

“But wasn’t that brought on by brain damage?” Heggy said. “If the Nalfar’s is the result of brain damage, shouldn’t her synesthesia have gotten worse?”

I pursed my lips as I processed this puzzle, but then looked up, drawn to movement from Merritt.

Lifting up her arm, she started scratching at the back of her neck, right below the rear end of her hospital gown’s collar.

“Is there something wrong with your neck?” I asked.

She nodded hesitantly. “It’s itchy.” Her eyes glazed over in a brief stare. “I’m—I’m thirsty. Is there anything to drink?”

Looking around the room, she soon answered her own question, spotting a stack of paper cups on the counter by the satiny steel sink.

Seeing Merritt reaching for one, I moved to get one for her, but then paused.

Her eyes trembled as she stared, and it took a second for me to realize what she was looking at: her outstretched arm.

“Genneth,” she asked, with a quivering breath, “why am I holding… music?”

Merritt’s hand twitched. The stack of cups glided across the room to her, wobbling as they moved. One by one, the cups in the stack dropped out of formation and fell to the floor, until only the topmost one remained, suspended mid-air.

Like a grappling hook, Heggy’s hand flew to my forearm and held on tight. It almost hurt, but I hardly cared. I was transfixed. All three of us were. We watched with eyes wide with fear—Merritt’s most of all.

The lone cup bumbled over to Mrs. Elbock’s hand, bobbing in an unseen current.

Merritt’s hand shook like a seismograph needle. She gasped. Slowly, tilting her head to the side, she rolled her gaze upward, and the cup followed, rising high. She tilted her head down and waved her arm side to side and shook her head as if to cradle this madness and gently rock it to sleep. The cup obeyed all these motions, following in perfect synchrony.

Mrs. Elbock blinked. “I’m… I’m doing it,” she said. There wasn’t any pride or joy in her voice. There wasn’t even a trace of surprise. It was grim recognition. It was the voice of a woman watching the life she knew die right before her eyes.

Corners were being turned. Feeling dead was now the least of Merritt’s concerns.

Her power brought the cup close. She made it hover in front of her face. There was fear in her eyes. The cup trembled along with her.

“I can hear it,” she said, turning to look me in the eyes. “It’s me.”

Staggering back, I pulled myself free from Heggy’s grip. We both stared at Mrs. Elbock, hardly believing our eyes.

Without warning, whatever invisible grip Mrs. Elbock had on the cup went loose; the pale cyan plastic cup clattered to the vinyl floor. It rolled a tad before coming to a rocking stop. The quiet rolling noises inked themselves onto the insides of my ear canals.

My heart raced. Tightness gripped my chest.

Merritt muttered: “Genneth…?”

The invisible force struck again, brusquely tugging at my shoulder, bidding me to turn. I did as it willed, and turned to face Merritt. She flinched, then vibrated. Realizing what she’d done made her shake like a startled sprinkler-head, but instead of spraying, she dripped.

“I’m… scared…” she whispered.

The force redoubled. It swirled all over me. My coat and bowtie billowed in a non-existent breeze.

“Merr—Merritt,” I stuttered. “Try… stay calm—try to…”

My breath! I couldn’t—I couldn’t breathe!

Lightheadedness bubbled into my skull.

Merritt turned to Dr. Marteneiss, who froze beneath her gaze.

I’d never seen Heggy like this. I didn’t know it was possible for her to be like this.

None of this should have been possible.

“Dr. Marteneiss,” Merritt said, “you were right. There is something else. It’s more than being dead. It’s not right. Something’s not right.”

“What is it, Merritt?” Heggy asked, horrified, “what’s wrong?”

“I…”

With a trembling arm, Mrs. Elbock reached behind her back, ready to scratch again. But this time, she paused. Her face blanched. After a moment’s hesitation, Merritt brought her fingers to rest on the nape of her neck.

She gasped. “There’s something on my back.” She yelled: “There’s something on my back!”

She scrambled her arms, straining to reach. Hair fluttered all around as she whipped about on the bed. A sane woman, squirming in a world gone mad.

She brought her hand in front of her face. There was a residue on her fingertips; a thin mucus, with tiny flecks, like ground pepper.

Merritt moaned. “No… no…” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her gaze bore into me. Her eyes were filled with pain. “I asked you, Genneth. I begged you!” She clutched a hand at her chest. “But you didn’t do it. You didn’t do it! And now it’s too late.” She cried in horror. “Too late!”

Rising from the bed, Merritt stumbled toward me. A shudder jolted through her leg, and she fell, landing on me. She sobbed into me. Her hair swept across my face.

As I reached to embrace I froze.

A straight line of sight had opened between my eyes and the thing on her back. It was a dark green ulcer—a ragged-edged diamond, slick with mucus. Skin curled up around the ulcer like paper burning, but stinking of decaying flesh instead of ash.

The scent was worse than unpleasant. It was sweet. Sickly sweet.

My legs buckled. I fell to my knees,

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

There wasn’t enough space in my chest. I was being crushed. My body was one big cramped muscle. I wanted to move, I wanted to jump up and scream and run out the door, but I couldn’t. I could barely even groan. I whimpered like a beaten dog. My feeble mewling echoed off the whitewashed walls.

It felt like death.

Everything tasted blue.

Mrs. Elbock stumbled back, terrified. I wanted to tell her it was my fault, not hers, but light, sound, and time were already melting together.

I crumpled, Heggy darted, and then… I don’t know.