The Fall

by J. L. Wood

  “I heard about Greenwood,” he said, his voice low, closing the door for privacy. “I see Chris made it safely. Thank you, Chris.”

  Chris nodded and headed for the door. “I’m going to go make myself useful,” he said, leaving the two alone.

  Jeremy approached Sherrie and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight, smelling the natural scent of her neck, while she refused to turn around.

  “We can’t pick up there,” she said. “It’s over, Jeremy.”

  Refusing to let go, he laid his head on the back of her shoulder. “I never agreed to that. I’m still here.”

  Pushing his arms away, Sherrie turned around. “We have work to attend to. Where should I start?”

  Jeremy stared at her frail face and tired eyes. “The, um, the beds in 700 to 710, they need their vitals collected and analyzed. Take Chris with you, just in case.”

  Sherrie nodded and readjusted the mask over her face. She needed to keep pushing forward until she could push no longer.

  *

  “This one’s critical,” Chris called from across the room.

  Sherrie rushed over, dodging patients and parents alike, to a bed at the end of the row of Room 703. The curtains had been drawn back to allow more cots to be stuffed into the small area. There was no such thing as privacy today, which showed on all of the alert faces following her to the bed. A small boy lay still, his face sweaty and clammy, his light-brown hair stuck to his forehead, nearly painted on. His chest rose and sank as he gasped for air, his small hands clinging to the bedsheets.

  “We need some oxygen!” Dr. Dressner yelled, causing Chris to stumble over himself. He began to push past the crowd of people hovering about, his eyes darting back and forth in search of a tank. “No, a wall unit! Check a wall unit!”

  “Shit,” he said as he tripped over a woman sleeping on the floor. “I’m sorry.” Quickly, he pulled a face mask from a hanger on the wall and turned the dial until he could hear the air flowing. Sherrie placed the mask over the boy’s nose and mouth and watched as his breathing slowed to a normal rate and his hands relaxed. She then pulled the clipboard that was neatly tucked under her arm out and began jotting down notes. Whatever L8 was, it took some and spared some, like a dangerous game of Russian roulette. Through all of Sherrie’s notes, she couldn’t tell who would make it and who wouldn’t.

  “Is something burning?” Chris asked, lifting his surgical mask and looking around.

  Sherrie looked up and glanced around the room, looking for smoke. “The alarms would go off if something was. What does it smell like, exactly?”

  Chris walked around the child’s bed, sniffing the air. “It’s like melting plastic. I think it’s the mask.”

  Sherrie leaned over and pulled the child’s mask off, checking that his normal breathing pattern continued and inspected it, finding no signs of melting. “Put your mask back on,” she instructed. Chris obeyed, and Sherrie cautiously lifted her mask and smelled the child’s oxygen mask. “Yeah, I smell it too. Although it’s kind of faint, I think it’s coming from the bed.” Sherrie looked under the bed but found it empty, then leaned in close to the boy, the smell of burning plastic strong. Looking up at Chris, eyes wide, she said, “It’s coming from him.”

  As Sherrie reached to pull her mask back into place, the boy inhaled deeply, then let out a long, dry cough, giving way to a small cloud of brown particles that erupted from his lungs and moved toward her. Startled, she jumped back, her legs weak and wobbly, unable to support even her small frame. Chris reached for her, but it was too late, and she fell directly onto her hip, the impact shooting dozens of sharp currents through her torso. As she gasped out in pain, a third of the brown cloud seized the opportunity and entered her mouth, the rest returning to the boy through his partially parted lips.

  “Oh shit!” Chris cried, running toward her. “What…what was that?”

  Coughing uncontrollably, Sherrie fell to the floor, sticking her fingers down her throat, trying to vomit whatever had invaded her body, but her stomach was empty, and she could only dry heave.

  “I’m infected!” she yelled, slapping the floor with her open palm. “Get me out of here!”

  The patients in the room began to yell and cling to the wall in fear, creating a large open area around them and the boy. Chris pulled her mask down, covering her nose and mouth, and put his head under her arm and lifted her up. After only a few steps, her head fell back and her eyes fluttered, and everything went dark.

  *

  Chris grabbed Sherrie’s chin with his free hand and shook her face, but she remained unresponsive. He swooped her small frame up, her thin legs dangling in the air, and carried her into the hall toward Jeremy’s office, yelling “make way” to all the onlookers who stared in disbelief, excited to see drama even at a time like this.

  Chris kicked at the door to Jeremy’s office. “It’s Chris! Open up!” he shouted. The door slowly opened, and Chris barged through, causing Jeremy to tumble backward.

  “My God,” Jeremy whispered. “What happened?”

  “Clear a spot!” Chris yelled. “Hurry!”

  Jeremy lurched forward, and with one swoop, pushed all of the books and papers on the couch onto the floor. Gently, Chris laid her on the now-cleared space while Jeremy placed a pillow under the base of her neck.

  “I think she’s infected,” Chris said, his voice trembling. “She inhaled a cloud of some kind of smoke from a sick kid with L8. Is that how it spreads?”

  Jeremy pulled down Sherrie’s scrub top and placed his stethoscope on her chest. As he listened for her heartbeat, she began to mumble, and then her body began to violently shake and convulse.

  “Oh my God! Is she dying?” Chris yelled, panic beginning to set in.

  Jeremy shook his head as he pulled away. “It’s a seizure.”

  When Sherrie finally lay still, sporadically trembling, Jeremy pulled back one of her eyelids. “She’s not suffering from the same conditions as the children,” he said as he examined Sherrie’s eyes, the whites yellowed as a side effect of the cancer. He continued to check her vitals, sighing every so often, as Chris waited anxiously nearby. “Did you say she inhaled a cloud of smoke?”

  Chris nodded. “I think it was smoke, but it was almost grainy. You know like when you mix sugar and water and the sugar hasn’t quite dissolved, so there’s all these chunks in it, and it’s cloudy? It was like that. One of the boys in 703 smelled like melting plastic, and when she leaned in to check him, he coughed it out. It was like it was aiming for her. Then she fainted.” Chris swallowed a lump in his throat. Although he didn’t know Sherrie well, he knew she was a good person, motherly and warm. He hated seeing her like this. After he gained control of his emotions, he continued, “I don’t really know what happened. It was so fast. Please save her.”

  Jeremy pulled a throw blanket from the arm of the couch and shook it before placing it on top of Sherrie. Carefully, he tucked the ends around her, forming a tight cocoon. He then stepped back in disbelief. “This is all new to me. I don’t know what to do.”

  The room was silent as the men watched Sherrie’s eyes flutter, her yellowed eyes briefly appearing under her heavy eyelids. Accustomed to the silence, Chris whispered, “The people in 703 are freaked out. What about the boy? Maybe what he did was just a warm-up, and he’s going to get everyone.”

  Jeremy scratched his head under his blue scrub cap and let out a sigh. “Okay. We need to get that boy out of that room. We have space in the intensive care unit for infectious diseases. Move him there. But I want you to wear a respirator from here on out. And a visor. And a gown. The whole getup. Come here, son.”

  Jeremy grabbed a surgical gown from one of the cabinets in his office and held it out. Mimicking the surgeons he had seen hundreds of times, Chris held his arms out while Jeremy fixed it on him and tied it tightly in the back. He then handed him a pair of green gloves, which he put on, then a pair of white gloves. “Two pairs?” Chris asked.

  Je
remy nodded. “Yes, if you accidently prick your gloves, you will see the green, so you will know to change them.”

  Chris obeyed and let Jeremy continue dressing him with shoe covers, a respirator, and a visor.

  “It’s hot under all this,” Chris said, beginning to sweat.

  “Welcome to my world. This is how you need to be, always. Pay close attention to how you are suited. Once you drop the boy off, I want you to take all of this off, minus the respirator, and put on a new set. Everything you need is in the cart right outside of the room. I’m going to inform the rest of the staff of these new developments. Meet me in the break room when you’re done.”

  Before Chris closed the door behind him, he looked back at Sherrie, still shaking on the leather couch in the office. “What about Dr. Dressner?” he asked, but Jeremy did not hear him. He was sitting on the floor, holding her hand, whispering something inaudible to her.

  *

  The patients in room 703 were still huddled against the wall away from the boy. When Chris entered the room, they bombarded him with questions. Were they next? Would it happen to them? Did the doctor die? Chris ignored them and affixed a mask to the boy’s face to ensure he would not spew out a brown sugar cloud again. With his foot, he unlocked the wheels of the bed and pushed it toward the door, the patients slowly walking behind him, curious.

  “I need a mask!” one of the women in in the room yelled, grabbing for Chris’s. Chris pushed her away with his elbow, gently enough to give him distance but firmly enough to get his point across.

  “He hit me!” the woman yelled, holding her shoulder, her long blonde hair in disarray, her clothes disheveled and filthy.

  Still holding the cot, Chris turned around and warned everyone in the room. “If anyone else touches me, you will be removed from this hospital. We are doing the best we can. You are lucky you are here.”

  The crowd warily retreated back into the room. Although the hospital was uncomfortable, it was dangerous outside. At least they had food and medicine here. The wild woman approached Chris again but was pulled back by someone. All were now afraid of losing their spots.

  Chris punched a large green button on the wall that opened the doors to the ICU and carefully pushed the boy into a room. A woman and her child sat huddled in the corner, surprised that they were found. “Get out,” Chris demanded. “This wing is closed.” Noticing his outfit, the woman grabbed the child’s arm and rushed out of the room. After locking the wheels into place, Chris began hooking up the medical equipment. After his week of nonstop work as Jeremy’s assistant, he felt like a seasoned professional.

  While securing the IV line into the boy’s vein, he heard him whisper behind his mask, something soft and inaudible. “What was that?” he asked the boy, who continued to whisper at the same volume. “I can’t hear you. What do you need?” The boy raised his small hand and pulled his mask up about an inch, causing Chris to jump back in preparation of another brown cloud.

  “Safe,” he whispered, then he released the grip on his mask, letting it fall back into place.

  “Did you say ‘safe’?” Chris asked, looking at the boy. “Who’s safe?” he asked, shaking the boy’s arm, but he refused to respond. Instead, he tilted his head to the right and stared forward, causing Chris to follow his eyes to the IV bag. The bag slowly filled with a light-brown hue from the boy’s arm then returned to its normal clear state. Chris blinked, confused, wondering if he’d just imagined that or if it was real, or if any of it mattered anymore. He shook the boy again, but he was in a deep sleep, his face relaxed, comfortable, content.

  Chris ran out of the room and ripped his surgical outfit off and threw it into the garbage bin, his heart racing. This was more terrifying than being the man behind the desk; at least that felt real, and he knew there was an end in sight. This was something else, a feeling he couldn’t describe, but he had to push forward until the very end. At the end, he could finally rest, either breathing or locked in an empty room. It was all the same to him.

  – 21 –

  Leak

  “What’s for breakfast?” Mary asked as she walked into the kitchen barefoot, wearing only a thin Transformers gown that ended about a foot above her knees.

  Missy flipped one of the eggs in the skillet over before turning to greet her friend. “Egg sammies,” she said, noticing Mary’s skimpy outfit. She let out a soft chuckle as she stared at Mary’s skinny bare legs. “Oh, and there’s coffee.”

  Mary tried to pull the gown down farther, embarrassed that it didn’t fit well. She had never quite noticed how much taller she was than Missy. Now self-conscious of exposing herself, she walked to the coffee maker, her left hand tightly holding the gown in place.

  “Yay! Coffee!” she exclaimed, pouring herself a cup, the strong smell waking her up. After taking a seat at the bar, she slowly inhaled the vapor from her mug, relieved to be somewhere she felt safe. “It feels so good to be out of that school. I can’t believe I slept so late,” she said while taking a sip of the black coffee. The harsh bitterness stung her tongue, but she forced herself past it. She had a long day ahead of her and needed to be fully alert.

  Missy delicately placed a fried egg on a toasted English muffin and added a slice of tomato on top, then handed it to Mary. “Bon appétit!” she said, taking a seat next to her at the large kitchen bar. Mary bit into her sandwich, savoring the taste of real food. Although it was simple, it was a large step up from the MREs and cafeteria slop from the school.

  “Thank you, Missy, this is really good,” she said, munching away at her breakfast. “And it smells so much better in here.”

  “Yeah,” Missy sighed. “I didn’t know Skiddy could piss and shit so much, but whatever. We’re home with him, and that’s all that matters.”

  Mary looked over at Lois, who was rolling around on the floor with Skiddy. He wagged his tail as she gripped his small head and held him tight, burying her face into his white and brown-spotted fur. Skiddy raised his head and frantically licked her in the face, which made her giggle and grip him even tighter.

  She was relieved to see Lois’s condition was continuing to improve. She just wished all the children had fared as well as her. She thought of the children back at the school, of Ariel hidden under the pillows. She hoped everyone was okay at Greenwood, but she would not be able to stop thinking about it unless she checked.

  “Looks like Skiddy has a new friend,” Missy said, breaking Mary’s train of thought. She watched Lois run up and down the hallway, chasing after Skiddy, sliding around on the wood floor.

  Mary continued to watch Lois play. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to go to the school today to check on Ariel and the group. Also, I need to try to get some supplies if we’re going to stay here.”

  “Don’t need supplies,” Missy said as she got up to give Lois her breakfast. She pointed to a room near her office. “Don was a prepper. We have everything we need here.” She smiled. “Even wine. And for Ariel, I was planning on going tomorrow, since it’s already three. I was going to head out first thing in the morning. Don’t want to be caught out at night.”

  Lois ran into the kitchen and happily grabbed her plate from Missy. Skiddy chased her into the living room, and the girl erupted in giggles. Mary waited until she heard the television playing before she spoke up. “Were you now. Feeling guilty?” Mary asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “No,” Missy replied, shaking her head. “Why would I feel guilty? I couldn’t take her yesterday, so I’m going to check on her today.”

  Mary sighed. “Missy…”

  Missy made a face. “Mary…”

  There was a silence as Mary wondered if Missy should go. She knew her friend was going through a tough time without Don, but she felt like Missy was beginning to lose herself. Sometimes it felt like she was a stranger, like she didn’t know her at all. And when she wouldn’t bring Ariel because she was somewhat injured, Mary had seen her cowardice. Her friend was a coward, and there was no place for her in a pote
ntially dangerous situation like Greenwood.

  “Absolutely not,” Mary said. “If that gang is still at Greenwood, you would run away. I would run in. I’m going.”

  “No,” Missy insisted. “I have to go.”

  Mary crossed her arms. “Why?”

  There was another silence, and Missy began to bite her nails. “I…I can’t have that on my conscience. I messed up. I want to make it right.”

  “Well, this isn’t the time to prove anything. Listen, you’re my friend, but you have to keep it together. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. You wanted to go to Greenwood. You wanted to leave Greenwood. You left Ariel. You break promises. You lied to me about Don to get me over here.”

  “No!” Missy exclaimed. “That was true.”

  Mary lit a cigarette and leaned forward on the bar. “Okay, if it’s true, then dish. I have all night.”

  *

  “Missy! Come here!” Mary called from the living room.

  Missy checked the clock, then set down her book. It was nearly midnight, and she wanted to finish her novel before she went to bed. “What is it?” she asked as she walked into the living room.

  Mary pointed at the television, hushing her friend. “Just watch.”

  The television broadcast showed a female reporter with short brown hair and a black suit standing outside of a large stadium. Missy recognized the stadium from a game she attended years ago in college. She tried to remember the game, but all she could recall was that she’d had a terrible time.

  Pointing at the stadium, in a rushed voice, the reporter spoke to the camera. “Nearly two thousand people took their lives today here at Camden Stadium amidst the news that we are not alone. This is now the largest mass suicide in history, twice the size of the Creektown Compound suicides. Investigators say that the majority of the victims were parents of children lost to L8, while many others were afraid of an alien invasion. This happened only hours after an anonymous source shared documents of a private space mission that encountered alien creatures in the Southern Pinwheel Galaxy. Those documents also stated that L8 is not a bacterium, but rather an infestation of the space creatures. With us today is alien rights activist Tamara Dearly. Tamara, what are your thoughts on an alien invasion?”