by wildbow
“Listen!” Krouse raised his voice. Cody glared, but didn’t speak. Krouse continued, “She fucked with your head, brought that simmer to a boil. She wanted this. She wanted Luke and Noelle and Oliver to be distracted, that’s why she made them remember the things they did. She wanted you to hate me, and I think she wanted me to go just a little too far.”
“Krouse,” Luke said, his tone a warning.
Krouse’s tone was matter of fact, calm. “I will. I’ll admit it, I’m a crummy person and Noelle seems to like me anyways. You have no conception of how major that is, or of the hurdles we’ve had to get past to get even this far in our relationship. So yeah, I’ll go too far if I’m pushed, right here, right now, because I have to protect Noelle.”
Cody folded his arms.
Krouse continued, “It’s probably what the Simurgh wanted, maybe even why she made me as reckless and violent as I was when we ran into those supervillains. So I’d cross that line once. She set me up so I’d do it, like she’s set you up so your resentment’s at a fever pitch. If you attack me, I’ll probably kill you.”
“You’re talking out your ass,” Cody snarled the words.
“I’m done with you,” Krouse said. “You can’t let go of shit, can’t see far enough past what’s between the two of us to know how shortsighted you’re being. Our situation right now? We’ve got priorities. Noelle is number one, but the rest of these guys come in a close second. So I’m going to go help Noelle and get her into the car I brought, and we’ll get her and Luke to a hospital.”
Cody only glared.
“And Cody? If she suffers at all because you wasted time, then I’m going to make you answer for it.”
Krouse turned his back on the guy, making his way to the living room.
“Need help?” Marissa was on his heels.
“Help Jess. I can carry Noelle, and I want to be out of here sooner than later.”
“Okay.”
“Luke?” Krouse said, “Want to use my shoulder to steady yourself?”
“I can use Oliver.”
Krouse nodded.
One by one, they made their way to the cars Krouse and Marissa had brought. It took time to get Noelle settled in with blankets around her. Even a little cold left her whimpering and moaning, struggling with less strength than a baby might have offered. Her eyes never opened, and she couldn’t even lift her arms beneath the blankets, after they were in place.
All the while, Cody stood in the doorway of the house, staring.
It was only after Krouse and Marissa had pulled away that Cody made his way to his car and followed.
* * *
“Need help!” Krouse shouted, as he pushed the hospital doors open with his foot. Noelle was in his arms.
There were only twenty or so people present. No staff. Plastic panels had been boarded up so that they blocked half of the access hallways. The front desk, too, was similarly blocked off. A camera sat on the desk, pointing forward.
Krouse went out of his way to avoid putting himself in front of the camera. He banged on the plastic panel that hung over the front desk’s window. “Hey! This girl is dying!”
“Please wait,” a voice said. It sounded over an intercom or something.
“She’s waited way too long already!”
“Stay calm and be patient. The staff at this facility are strictly limited to the volunteers who were willing to undergo the quarantine procedure themselves. As such, this facility is currently understaffed.”
Was it an automated message? No. He didn’t get that vibe.
“Sit, Krouse,” Marissa said.
Krouse settled Noelle into a chair, then sat beside her. “Fucking creepy. I think that thing in the booth is an artificial intelligence.”
“No shit?” Luke asked.
“No shit,” Krouse said, his leg bouncing up and down restlessly. It had to have been at least eight hours since the initial injury, but the minutes that were passing now that help was so close were a special kind of torture. He studiously ignored Cody, who was standing on the other side of the waiting room.
The others in the waiting room included two nuclear families, a collection of older people who might have come from an old folks home and five men in protective gear that looked like what a firefighter might use, but they had the word ‘Rescue’ emblazoned across their shoulders.
“We get asked about where we came from,” Krouse murmured to the others, “We stick as close to reality as we can, but we don’t name people or places. Better to look dumb than name a place that doesn’t exist. Any tips, Jess?”
“Nine-eleven didn’t happen here. Endbringers did. They have one dollar coins in this America, not bills, and they phased pennies out. Um. There’s an installation on the moon, half-built and abandoned. I don’t know. Stuff is different.”
“Is any of this even liable to come up?” Luke asked.
“Don’t know. Better to be safe,” Krouse said.
Two people in nurse’s uniforms hurried out of the mouth of the hallway. One, a man, approached Krouse and his friends. Krouse stood from his seat.
“Situation?” the nurse asked.
“Two moderate injuries, one severe,” Krouse said.
“She’s the severe one?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah. Stuff fell on her. Her stomach’s turning black.”
“We’ll look after her,” he said. He whistled. “Esme! Stretcher!”
The other nurse ran to get one.
“Only six of us volunteered,” he said. “Lots of rules, lots of drawbacks, when it comes to the quarantine. We were on the outside, but we get treated same as you for coming in. Can’t blame others for not being willing to make the sacrifice, but it’s tough with the limited staff. Who else is injured?”
“Impaled hand,” Krouse raised one hand. He pointed at Luke. “And sliced leg. If you’re going by priority, put me last.”
“Not critical?”
“No,” Krouse said. He looked at Luke, “No, right?”
“I’m okay for now,” Luke said.
The other nurse had arrived with a stretcher. The pair checked Noelle over, then loaded her onto it. She disappeared down one hallway.
Krouse sank into his seat. It was out of his hands now. He could finally let himself relax just a little, finally—
“Sir?”
It was the intercom by the camera.
Hesitant, he stood, then he stepped closer, still avoiding the camera.
“Please take these papers and distribute them to your companions.”
Krouse took the stack of paper. They were stacked together in packs of six.
“Be informed, individuals within the quarantine area must meet the prerequisites noted on those sheets before they can be permitted to process out and re-enter society. Under the D.D.I.D. measures, individuals found to be circumventing the listed procedures and strictures or violating the post-release conditions will be criminally charged.”
“What?”
“Do you require further explanation of the D.D.I.D. measures?”
“What measures?”
“To be processed out of the quarantine area, individuals are required to undergo ten months of twice-weekly checkups with a rotating body of quarantine processing agents. Eight of those months will also involve weekly sessions of counseling and psychiatric evaluation.”
“Ten months?”
“Ten months, correct. Further, anyone processing out of quarantine is required to accept a tattoo marking their D.D.I.D. status. Each such individual will be placed on a list, with twice-weekly checkups with quarantine processing agents continuing indefinitely. Attendance at any official or non-official function with more than ten individuals present requires permission from a quarantine processing agent, a minimum of forty-eight hours in advance. The individual in charge of the function should be notified of your D.D.I.D. status upon your arrival. Any employers should be notified of your D.D.I.D. status at the first opportunity. Anyone selling or renting prope
rty to you should be notified of your D.D.I.D. status at the first opportunity. Financial institutions should—”
“Stop.”
“The remainder of details are noted on the sheets provided. This counter can answer any further questions. The operator overseeing the quarantine area can answer any further questions. As noted on the sheet, the operator can be contacted—”
“Stop. Shut up,” Krouse said.
The mechanical voice went silent.
Krouse turned to leave.
“Sir? There is one other matter to discuss.”
Krouse turned back. “What?”
“Regarding the care of the young woman, will you be paying the balance?”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Understood. If you will provide the name of your financial institution—”
My financial institution… a world away.
It dawned on Krouse, belatedly, that he was a person without an identity. His driver’s license, his banking info, his birth certificate… they didn’t count for anything here.
“Why?” Krouse interrupted it. “Can’t you guys pay for it?”
“Of course. You will be reimbursed for costs incurred in the course of your processing. But the process will be expedited if you pay now. Failure to do so could mean additional delays.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Krouse said. He thought of the credit card he’d taken from the drawer. If he used that… No. Too dangerous. But there had been any number of stores that had been left abandoned. “I can pay cash, if given a chance to go collect it.”
“These measures were put in place to ensure that we are able to track anyone undergoing quarantine processing, as well as those who may be attempting to circumvent processing. We will require a credit card or a bank account number.”
“If I don’t?” he asked. “My stuff got destroyed in the attack.”
“Again, we can contact your financial institution on your behalf and start the process of restoring your accounts to your control. If you do not pay, you will not be processed.”
“And my girlfriend?”
“The patient will not be processed, either.”
“If I say I don’t have the money, and I can’t pay her fee?”
“We will request financial information from the patient at the first opportunity.”
Noelle, Krouse was almost certain, didn’t have a wallet on her. No, they’d left her purse in Luke’s apartment, and that was in shambles.
“If she can’t pay?”
“We will attempt to contact her financial institution.”
“If you can’t?” He searched for an excuse, “She was confused, before she went unconscious. She might have hit her head. If I can’t give you that information and she can’t give it to you, what then?”
“Then the department will pay. But quarantine processing will not continue until you have provided identification and financial information to verify your identity.”
Krouse returned to his seat, set his hands on his head.
Fuck you, Simurgh, he thought. Fuck you and fuck this foreign Earth.
“Krouse?” Marissa asked. “Was it about Noelle?”
She’s forcing our hands.
“Quarantine measures,” he said. He shoved the papers at her, half-crumpled in his hand.
She took them with a gentle touch that stood in stark contrast to the force he’d just used, as if afraid to provoke him further.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked.
Krouse spoke in a low voice, “I mean we don’t get out of this quarantine area without I.D. and bank info, which we don’t have, and even then, we get treated like criminals for the rest of our lives.”
“There’s got to be a way around it.”
“No. I don’t think there are. They’re on the watch for that stuff. For anyone trying to slip past the system. So we either need to take ten months to process out of here, with enough psychiatric counseling and talks with quarantine officers that we’re bound to slip up somewhere, and we’d have to get flawless I.D. that’s going to meet the standards for their checks—”
“Which is impossible,” Cody said. He’d approached and was listening.
Krouse nodded. “—and we’d get treated like criminals for the rest of our lives, or we take option two, we try to escape, and again, we get treated like criminals for the rest of our lives, only we deserve it.”
Another family came in the front doors, finding chairs to settle into. Two twenty-somethings and two people who looked more like grandparents than parents. They were sitting close enough that Krouse couldn’t continue risk being overheard.
He fell silent, and the others read the papers detailing the quarantine protocols.
It was two hours before the male nurse returned to the lobby with news about Noelle.
Krouse didn’t even finish listening before dashing for the door.
* * *
“Well played,” Krouse said, as the car skidded to a stop outside the house they’d borrowed. “Well fucking played, Simurgh.”
He stepped out of the car.
Permanent damage. Removing the majority of her lower intestine.
He didn’t step into the house they’d borrowed. He headed straight for the house next door, the one they’d broken into when they were looking for house keys.
Interrupted blood flow, infection, possible signs of necrosis. She’l require a colostomy bag even in the best case scenario. In the worst case scenario, well, there’s any number of ways this could end badly for the patient.
End badly, Krouse thought. She’ll die.
Heading inside through the side door, he locked it behind him and made his way to the living room. The canisters were sitting under the couch, along with the papers. He flipped through them.
Canister A: F-1-6-1-1, ‘Deus’, 85% mixture.
Added: C-0-0-7-2, ‘Balance’, 15% mixture.
To be consumed by Client 1
Canister B: R-0-9-3-6, ‘Jaunt’, 70% mixture.
Added: C-0-0-7-2, ‘Balance’, 30% mixture.
To be consumed by Client 2
Canister C: C-2-0-6-2, ‘Prince’, 55% mixture.
Added: O-0-1-2-1, ‘Aegis’, 30% mixture.
Added: C-0-0-7-2, ‘Balance’, 15% mixture.
To be consumed by Client 3
Canister D: M-0-0-4-2, ‘Vestige’, 75% mixture.
Added: C-0-0-7-2, ‘Balance’, 25% mixture
To be consumed by Client 4
Canister E: X-0-7-9-6, ‘Division’, 80% mixture.
Added: C-0-0-7-2, ‘Balance’, 20% mixture
To be consumed by Client 5
Canister F: E-0-7-1-2, ‘Robin’, 60% mixture.
Added: C-0-0-7-2, ‘Balance’, 40% mixture
To be consumed by Client 6
“Can’t even say what they do, huh?” he asked. “Because you want to leave maximum room for us to screw up, is that right?”
He could hear a car on the road, the crunch of heavy snow beneath tires. A car door slammed. He flipped back several pages to reread the directions. Nothing more complicated than drinking the stuff.
But which one? He stared at the list, muttered, “Jaunt.”
A small laugh escaped his lips. Didn’t a jaunt mean a short trip?
“Well, that’s as fitting a choice as any,” he said. He could hear the others making their way inside.
He screwed off the top of the canister and withdrew the vial inside. “A toast! If I’m screwed no matter which path I take, then at least I’ll go forward with courage! Fuck you, Simurgh!”
Marissa and Oliver appeared at the entrance to the living room just in time to see him tossing the contents of the vial back. They rushed forward to stop him and only succeeded in catching him as he fell.
Pain.
It was like cold electricity, moving through his body at a speed of an inch a second.
He saw fragmented images, faded, blurry. A crystal formation, growing in fast motion. Two crystals,
each somehow alive. They moved by creating more of themselves, letting the crystal behind them die. He sensed that years were passing, but they moved together, insistent.
The second they made contact, the entire world was turned to crystal in a heartbeat.
Another heartbeat later, the world shattered.
Another image. Creatures that folded and unfolded through space, existing in multiple worlds simultaneously, too many to count, spreading out from the remains of a world.
A third scene. Falling towards a barren planet, seeing the descent with countless eyes that weren’t quite eyes. And a fragment of an idea… that the world had the same general shape as Earth. Landmasses in the right place, if not quite the right shape. No water… but still Earth.
“Krouse,” Marissa whispered.
“All good,” he smiled. He struggled to his feet, then nearly lost his balance. He had to put one hand on Marissa’s shoulder to keep from falling to the ground. “It’s all good.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m brave and stupid and because she’s the only one who ever gave me the benefit of a doubt,” he said. He tried to walk and fell. Marissa caught him.
“You can’t,” she said.
“Can too. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it worked. Not sure how. But it worked.”
He felt a pressure behind him. A matching pressure to his right. He turned to look, to see what was happening, and only saw the flatscreen television and a heavy speaker poised on the edge of the bookshelf. There was a chord, as if a string stretched between them, vibrating, and the television was suddenly sitting on the bookshelf, the speaker in the midst of the entertainment center. The television fell with a crash, and the remains of the screen danced across the floor. Marissa shrieked.
“See?” he smiled.
“Krouse—”
He was aware of the pressure, aware of the reaching. He tried to push it to move, like he’d move his hand, and it did. He couldn’t exactly feel the shape, but had a sense of the heft of the thing he was pressing against. He pressed the other presence against the coffee table, but didn’t feel the same chord.
Could expand and contract it, he noted, as if he were opening or closing his hand. He tried expanding one. No, that made it worse. Expanding the one around the coffee table, grabbing, what, air?