by Raythe Reign
Liam’s arms fell down to his sides and he slumped against the wall. He would have fallen to the ground just like the children, but Nafari caught him and eased him down. Liam’s skin jumped under his best friend’s hands. The other Valkyrie touched his face, cupping it.
“Liam, Liam, are you all right?” Nafari’s black eyes were filled with concern.
Liam forced himself to nod even as his limbs felt like they were disconnected from his body. “G-go check on the c-children. I – I’ll be all right.”
“How did you do that?” Nafari asked, not moving, not leaving him.
Liam felt a little mad as he let out a shaky laugh. “T-thor.”
“What about him?”
“W-we’re related.” It was not only his brother that could use the magic of the gods. Apparently, both of them could.
Nafari stared at him for long, silent moments, lips parted. He suddenly snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand, but –”
“I don’t understand it altogether either.” Liam’s teeth were chattering as if he was cold, but he felt no temperature at all. His body was numb except for the sense of pins and needles going through him. “We’ll talk about it more later. The kids.”
“Yes.” Nafari shook his head again to truly clear it. “Yes, the children.”
He hesitated a few more seconds, but then he nodded and scrambled over to the little girl nearest them. Liam watched as he tenderly turned her over onto her back. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was ragged. There was a scorch mark on the front of her hospital gown, but there didn’t appear to be a scorch mark on her flesh. As Nafari brushed a hand over her head her eyelids began to flutter.
“That’s right,” Nafari said, wonder and relief in his voice. “That’s right. Wake up now.”
Those brown eyes stared up at Nafari’s handsome face in confusion, but not in fear. She frowned as she asked, “Are you my doctor?”
“No, sweetheart. You just had a little accident in the hallway. Fell down. But you’re all right now,” Nafari assured her as he helped her to sit up
“Oh, thank you.” She smiled almost shyly at him. “What happened to the lights?”
Clearly, she had no memory of what had happened. She stared in wonder at the glass littering the floor and the blackened fixtures above her.
“A minor electrical malfunction,” Nafari lied.
The other children were starting to stir as well and Liam wondered where the doctors and nurses were. The noise all of this had made should have brought the staff running. Nurses should have been checking vitals. Parents, too, should have been sitting in chairs by bedsides. But there was no one there except for him, Nafari and the children. He forced himself up to his feet. He swayed a moment and Nafari called to him.
“Liam! Stay where you are! I got this,” Nafari urged. “You are … you are exhausted.”
Nafari winced as he used the word “exhausted”, but how else was he supposed to describe Liam’s condition? But Liam waved him off.
“I need to move. I’ll go look for the doctors and nurses. You keep helping the kids,” Liam said as he turned to go back to the nurses’ station.
But just as he was going Nafari called out, “There are no shadows, Liam!”
Liam twisted his head around in confusion. “What?”
Nafari’s eyes were glowing with wonder. “There are no shadows in the children.”
“Yes, I know –”
“There are no shadows in the hall and they did not leave to go someplace else,” Nafari continued, willing Liam to understand what he meant. “There are no shadows anywhere.”
Liam stared at him blankly and then understanding filled in. The Gash – or rather the parts that had been in these children, so not all of it – were destroyed. These little shadows had not simply slithered out of the children and into other hosts after Liam had blasted them. They were gone. He met Nafari’s gaze. The black man laughed, his impressive mouth of white teeth exposed, showing his joy.
“Yes, Liam! They are gone!” Nafari threw his hands up into the air.
Liam’s face hurt from the smile that grew on his face. Thank you, Thor. Thank you!
He didn’t hear the Thunder God in his head again, but he felt Thor still, beaming down at him.
“Help the children,” he repeated to Nafari unnecessarily. “I’ll get the hospital staff.”
Nafari nodded even as he pivoted and dropped to his haunches beside another bewildered child. Liam started walking stiff-legged down the hall to the nurses’ station. His steps were jerky at first, and he kept one hand on the wall for support, but soon he had feeling back in his body again and was walking almost normally by the time he made it to the nurses’ station. It was just as he caught sight of one of the phones on the station lit up like a Christmas tree, announcing calls that no one was answering, that he thought of the fact that not every doorway in the children’s cancer ward had disgorged children into the hallway. Some thresholds had remained empty. Now it could have that there were simply no patients in those rooms. Or it could be …
Liam’s steps slowed as he saw the blood pooling around the edge of the nurses’ station. He stopped and put a hand on the station’s plastic top so that he could lean over and see what was behind the desk. There were what looked to be four bodies behind there, stacked up like kindling. From what he could see there were three women and one man in pale blue hospital scrubs. One of the women wore a white coat. This was where the staff had been. And the parents?
His head turned seemingly on its own accord towards the waiting room opposite the nurses’ station and he saw another “stack” of corpses in there. The way the bodies were positioned reminded him of an old game he’d once played called Lincoln Logs. His stomach clenched and he sagged forward on top of the station again as nausea assailed him. That allowed him to see the little footprints in the staff’s blood leading to the stairwell just across the way.
Liam pushed himself up from the counter and raced to the stairwell. His heart thundered in his chest and the metallic taste of fear coated his tongue. He could see through the rectangular window in the stairwell’s door to the metal staircase and chipped blue walls beyond. Only half of the fluorescent fixtures were working so there were deep shadows under the stairs. He was struck by how silent everything was as he slammed a hand against the stairwell door.
Is everyone else dead in this hospital? No, that’s impossible. Except it was possible, he realized a moment later. Just because the Gash had never operated like this before didn’t mean it couldn’t. So he amended the thought to, It’s impossible because we didn’t give it enough time to kill everyone.
The door yawned open before him. The bloody footprints were fainter now, most of the red had rubbed off, but there was enough to see that two sets of footprints went down while the other pair went up.
One up. Two down. Cameron and Mom are upstairs …
Liam immediately started to climb the stairs when he heard an anguished cry come from below. He spun around. Sweat slicked his forehead. His knuckles went white on the hand that was holding onto the handrail.
Cam …
The cry from below was repeated.
Cameron has the power to freeze people and send the Gash scurrying. I have to trust in him. He’ll take care of Mom. But these people down below have no one but me.
He swung around and went down the stairs towards the hospital’s basement. He slammed the door open at the bottom and realized that he had stepped into the morgue’s hallway. The lights down here should have been bright and harsh and sterile, but most of them had burnt out. He knew that they wouldn’t have been allowed to go unreplaced long so perhaps what he had done upstairs had played havoc with the hospital’s electrical system. The hallway was empty. But saw that the double doors into the morgue itself were still moving slightly as if someone had pushed through them not moments before.
“Hello? Is anyone down here?” he called and strode forward. Eve
n as he said this he felt like a fool. He knew the children were down here with some innocent pathologist. He thought of the neat piles of corpses upstairs and quickened his pace.
He tried to ready the lightning again, tried to feel his connection to Thor, but there was nothing. Maybe a little fizzle of energy, but not much. Being down, beneath the earth, with so little man made electricity available had him wondering if that was blocking his power somehow.
He made it to the morgue’s doors. He looked through the windows in the top to the room beyond. He saw the stainless steel tables for the autopsies. He saw the large sinks and hoses to wash the blood and viscera away. He saw a wall of small metal doors where the bodies were kept. He did not see any pathologists or children.
Liam silently pushed the doors open and walked inside. His head jerked to the right where there were more autopsy tables. No corpses. No doctors. No children. Just a sea of steel tables. He thought he heard a muffled thump directly ahead of him from one of the doors for the individual cold body storage.
He silently prowled towards the doors, still reaching for the power of Thor. His fingertips were starting to itch again with electricity and he hoped that meant he would have enough energy to take down the two hosts here. He paused in front of the wall of refrigerators, every inch of him listening for the sound to be repeated. There was a shuffling sound from his left. His head jerked to the refrigerator two down from him. He grabbed the handle and yanked it open.
Inside like a larva in a chrysalis were two people. A doctor with a balding head and wide open blue eyes and a thin wisp of a child of about eight years old with amazingly dark lashes were squashed inside. The sight was so shocking that Liam found himself idly wondering how she had managed to maneuver the tray with them on it into the refrigerator let alone close the door.
But such shocked speculation died, as he noticed that she had a scalpel pressed against the pulsing carotid artery in the doctor’s neck. Already a thin line of blood was visible beneath the scalpel’s super sharp blade. Liam froze even as internally he reached for the power.
“Do you really want to send a bolt of electricity into a metal box?” the Gash asked with a little laugh. “That was a pretty good trick you pulled up there. Didn’t think you had it in you.” The Gash’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re not the only one who can adapt.”
It was then that he felt another child’s body land on his back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: BALANCING ACT
It’s all about balance, Cameron told himself and bit down on an hysterical chuckle that wanted to escape his mouth. How could one not laugh when a child had blood all over his mouth like a killer clown might and what looks like bits of flesh between his teeth? Laughter was the only reasonable response. But he swallowed it down, because Juan was looking gray and pasty and dying there on that hospital bed. And he needed to do something about that. But if I use my powers then the kid will likely die. If I don’t then Juan dies. Fantastic. So … all I need to do is get the Gash away from Juan using maybe a little power but not harm the boy’s body. Easy, right? Just a matter of using a touch of magic, but not too much. Balance.
Of course Cameron’s experience with using magic was based on only one successful use of it against the Gash and freezing unoffending beverages all day. That wasn’t exactly a good track record, but it was all they had to work with. That and his mother’s gun.
But the Gash wasn’t impressed by the gun and the kid’s body it inhabited would likely die from a gunshot even if it was in the leg. Was his mother a good enough shot to hit the kid in the leg? He didn’t know, but he seemed to remember her telling him that one should always aim at the center of the target’s mass, i.e., the torso. So no, the gun was out. Magic was in.
A little magic. Balance.
“What’s it going to be, Cameron? The boy or the deputy?” the Gash tittered. “Let’s weigh your choices.”
Cameron edged further into the room. He forced his shoulders to relax. He did not want to telegraph what he was going to do. “Sure, let’s do that.”
His mother made a half growl in her throat. “We don’t care what it has to say, Cameron.”
No, they didn’t. But he wanted to move close enough to the boy that he could lunge for him and drag him away from Juan. He would then use a little power to stun him … or something like that. He wasn’t sure how it would all work. He was hoping that instinct would kick in like it had with Juan. But even if the magic didn’t work the kid didn’t look all that strong. He was pretty sure he could take him down no problem. It was just getting close enough to the kid before the Gash took out Juan.
I can do this. Piece of cake. Or maybe cube of ice is more appropriate.
“It’s okay, Mom. Let it talk,” he said, his feet shuffling another inch into the room. He flexed his fingers at his sides and felt that tingle of power in him grown. It was like a muscle that was aching to be used.
But only a little this time. A very little magic. Balance.
“Now, Juan is your mother’s deputy and has built a career helping people. That’s definitely a point in his favor. He’s also your mother’s only friend. Mary’s not exactly sociable, but you know that better than anyone, don’t you, Cameron?”
“Funny, but I don’t think I want to agree with you about anything. You could tell me the sky is blue and I would say it’s not,” Cameron quipped.
The Gash narrowed the boy’s eyes at him. The eyes looked old, too old to be in a kid’s body. It was almost creepier than the flesh and blood smile.
“You’ve got the Trickster in you, but I assure you that you are not as amusing as you think,” the Gash said.
“Oh, I think I’m hysterical.”
“Cameron,” his mother warned, but she didn’t need to because he had seen the Gash’s hand on Juan’s chest. The deputy let out a moan. Sweat broke out across Cameron’s brow.
“Yes, you understand now that it’s better not to play with me,” the Gash said. “Where were we?” The Gash tapped Juan’s chest with one finger. “Ah, yes, making a list of reasons for Juan or the boy to die.”
“Don’t let us stop you. Fascinated in what you have to stay.” He took another half-step in. His mother sidled along with him. He was pretty sure she knew what he was planning on doing. His gaze flickered to her face and she did the slightest tilt of her head. For once, he and his mother were on the same page.
“Those are two points in Juan’s favor.” The Gash ticked off on the boy’s emaciated fingers. It was disturbing to see that bloodied mouth move as the Gash spoke. “He has no wife or husband so nothing doing there. And no children. So only two ticks for Juan!”
“You vile thing. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” his mother muttered.
The Gash went on, unconcerned with Mary’s opinion of it and held up the other hand where it proceeded to tick off the “positives” for the boy to live. “This boy is only ten so he’s got all the world ahead of him. He could grow up to be anything while Juan’s life is set.” The Gash raised a finger for the boy’s life. “Plus he’s innocent and you value that so much I think he gets another finger. But he is very sick.” The Gash tossed its head and the lank, thin locks of hair fluttered. “It’s unclear whether he will survive the treatments necessary to kill the cancer in him. And his parents can have other children.” It waved both hands at Cameron to show him that there were two fingers for Juan and three for the boy. “Looks like Juan’s on the losing end.”
“Juan would never want a child to die for him,” his mother whispered and Cameron was pretty sure that she was telling him what the choice should be.
But I’m not making that choice. Because this binary choice the Gash is giving us is bogus.
“True!” The Gash gave them another bloody grin. “But what kind of life – if this child has a life – will he have, Mary?”
“Don’t say my name!” his mother snapped. Cameron didn’t blame her. The Gash sort of slithered out her name.
“Why? Do
I say it like your mother did?” Another fleshy grin was sent their way. “I rather liked the old bitch. She had a way with her. Really owned her corruption.”
His mother’s breathing increased, but Cameron only dared dart a glance her way. His mother’s face was white, but her expression was calm. Her eyes were deep blue pools of suppressed rage and disgust. The mention of her mother had pricked her clearly, but she was in control. His gaze shifted back to the Gash.
“Imagine if I was in Cameron’s body –”
“Never!” she growled.
“But imagine it! Just for a second! Imagine I had good little Cameron here kill people. Literally rip their throats out with his teeth, chew their flesh, and drink their blood. No one believes in monsters … well, monsters that aren’t human anyways. So what do you think this boy’s life is going to be like? The guilt. The horror. The incarceration for sure in a mental institution at least or juvenile detention more likely. Maybe even adult prison. And we all know the terrible things that happen to kids there.”
“We won’t let you destroy this boy’s life,” Cameron promised it even as he inched ever closer.
Juan was turning gray again. His skin had a terrible oily sheen on it. His breathing was raspy. Cameron knew he had only a little time more to save the deputy.
“What will you do to stop that, Cameron? I’ve left enough evidence on those bodies to ensure that the proper authorities know exactly who is to blame.” Another bloody grin. “Will you tell them that a monster made this little boy do it? A monster that wears a human skin?” The boy’s eyes were too old as it looked at him slyly. “You’ve already had a history of saying crazy things like that. Your mother even contemplated putting you away for it.”
Cameron’s heart clenched. He knew better than to listen to the Gash about anything at all. The creature twisted everything and wanted to cause pain and discord. But he also had always felt that his mother thought he was crazy and that a mental institution was in his future. That was why he had bottled up his unending grief over Liam and pretended to accept the “truth” of what happened that Reggie, a murderous pedophile, had killed his beloved brother. A “human” monster just like the Gash had said.