The Hydra Effect

by G Johanson

  Inès remained in pristine condition, though her mood was so black that she did not give off the impression of someone in perfect health. She visited the local hospitals and sneaked into the morgues, which were all filled to capacity, some overflowing, and she examined the corpses. None of them had appeared like previous direct victims of the creature, their expressions generally blank. It seemed the creature was not frequenting other hospitals in the area and Georges and Inès were struggling to come up with their next move.

  Georges’ good friend, Laura, was an option, but he had used up a lot of goodwill with her in recent years and she had emotionally distanced herself from him when she had heard he was fighting in the war. Her reaction had brought to mind that of his first love, Arrah Cotton, with Laura informing him not to contact her while he was in service. Her objections were not political, religious or moral, rather that she thought he was being a complete fool. He was far too old to fight and nowhere near as powerful as would be required to ensure his survival so for her own peace of mind she had disassociated herself from him. He had received one letter from her in the hospital, having been informed of his plight by his family, and while he was pleased that contact had been renewed, it was clear he was not fully forgiven for his folly. If he asked her to fix this problem there was every chance she would point blank refuse. She had never been humanity’s greatest advocate and the chaos of the last few years had seemingly lowered her opinion further.

  Georges’ thoughts turned to Lucien, whose foolhardiness riled him almost as much as his foolishness annoyed Laura, though Georges did not share her formidable ire and had not even shouted at him when he had come to visit him. By entering the hospital, even just by being in town, he could have been exposed to the spores (the spores theory was pure hypothesis and had somehow become fact to Georges). Even worse than that, he had spent a bit of time with Inès. Her condition fascinated Georges and he pondered if she was the key to solving this. Just because she appeared immune did not mean that she was not a carrier of the virus.

  Inès felt it was daft that she was so bothered by Delaney’s death. She had only known her a little over a week and often found her irritating, their fledgling friendship by no means built to last. What seemed particularly tragic was how full of life she had been, Delaney a vibrant character, her polar opposite, and now she was still in the morgue, where she would be until an undertaker could be found to remove her and the other 11 inhabitants. Georges spoke of spores and seeds and it seemed that other people reaped what she had sown, which was always the plan yet now seemed absolutely wicked without Durand to justify it. She felt she was coping better with her mother’s death than she was with Delaney’s which was absolutely ridiculous. There had only been a handful of mourners at her mother’s shabby funeral, which suited Inès who didn’t want to converse with anybody. Her life was over now and she had to clean up her mess before the end. Whether that came at her own hand or in the maw of the monster made little difference to her.

  Jeanne Quentin had wanted to remain living with Inès and took some prompting to dislodge. Their sect was over and seeing her reminded her of bad times and their own heinous actions. Jeanne’s weakness acutely irritated Inès. Neither of them had the right to weep and wail or play the victim. The little she had heard of Matthieu’s first wife, Elodie, made her sound far superior to Jeanne, Elodie said to be a strong character with a mind and voice of her own unlike this weeping willow of a woman. Jeanne left in tears and once she was gone Inès immediately cut her wrist and recited the incantation to summon the creature. She performed the spell by the dining table in the sitting room where it had been born from Fraisse’s chest, which seemed the perfect place for it to perish. She had three carving knives ready and a pair of knitting needles too, along with a surgical scalpel she had pilfered from work. It was time to do, then die.

  Inès kept spinning around the room to check for signs of the creature. After ten minutes she left the sitting room and scoured the other rooms. She found it hanging upside down from the light fixture in her mother’s bedroom. How it had not brought the fitting down amazed her for the scrawny creature was now a bulky brute, wider than any man she had ever seen. Its mouth was only open a fraction and she saw that its left eye remained closed. It gave no reaction upon her entry into the room and Inès left it for a moment. She had one knife on her person and she wanted the full arsenal and she returned to the table and picked up the rest of her weapons. She turned and saw the monster now stood lurching over her and she fell back onto the table, dropping everything onto the floor. She slid down to the floor and crawled under the table, picking up a knitting needle as she tried to create some distance between her and it. It lowered itself onto its haunches and stared under the table at her. She summoned it when she had food and it could not detect any suitable meals nearby and it assumed she was offering herself like the others had. Inès saw its mouth begin to widen and she felt her courage and resolve vanish. Before that moment she could not have cared how she died and suddenly she realised that dying at her own hand was an infinitely more attractive proposition than being devoured by that thing.

  She attempted to run to the front door only to be knocked over by the thing as it hurtled towards her and she crawled backwards, shaking her head as she saw it scuttle towards her like a spider. It crawled atop her and pinned her arms down and the mouth expanded larger at its own pace. Inès hyperventilated, internally cursing herself for reverting to type, whimpering like the coward that she was. She had been fooling herself that she stood a chance, kidding herself that she had the intestinal fortitude to do this. Durand had not selected her mother and her for his flock by chance; he saw that they were pitifully weak.

  A thin film of transparent drool cascaded from the creature’s mouth onto Inès’ face, Inès turning to her side in disgust, the sticky liquid striking her cheek. Moments later it suddenly clamped its mouth down encapsulating her head and she was in complete darkness. She tried to move her pinioned arms, shaking her whole body and attempting to kick it as she panicked, unable to breathe at all. What she took for the creature’s tongue licked her face, forcing something into her mouth and nostrils, possibly saliva or something more ominous. She had dropped the knitting needle when it had bundled her over, not that she could move her hand to use it in any case and she felt her energy depleting. It was feeding off her and her resistance was having no effect whatsoever. It was too strong now and was capable of dispatching more resilient prey. How her mother or even Durand and Matthieu had been able to willingly consent to this death was beyond her and she pondered if they had changed their minds once it began and had been unable to stop it.

  A pair of hands reached under her body, lifting her up by her armpits. For all she knew the creature had grown another pair of limbs for it still held her nailed to the floor. Its grip around her neck loosened and no longer felt airtight and she saw light again and she gasped, taking a much needed breath as she saw it scurry out of the room. She turned around to see Lucien who looked utterly confused. Her hair and face were damp and he felt her whole body trembling. He looked into her eyes and he said, “Should I have left you?”

  Inès shook her head and collapsed into his arms. Her resistance, pathetic as it was, coupled with Lucien’s interruption had deterred the creature who seemed to have plenty of other options. Lucien saw her wrist was bleeding and asked her where she kept her bandages.

  “I don’t have any,” she coughed, her voice hoarse.

  “That’s hard to believe, a nurse who isn’t prepared. You should get some, especially if you have seizures,” Lucien said, believing that was what he witnessed. He had pondered if it was best to not touch her during the seizure and had only intervened when he saw that she was struggling to breathe.

  “It wasn’t a seizure.”

  “Whatever it was it didn’t look too healthy. I’ll get you a drink.”

  Inès spilt the glass of water that Lucien fetched her with her vigorous shaking and Lucien was perturbed
by the sound of her teeth rattling against the glass. She was badly shaken up and it brought back bad memories of his time in the trenches. He talked to her to try to distract her from her anxiety, informing her of how he had attempted to leave town only to be stopped at the town limits. Due to the exacerbation of the pandemic in the vicinity, the whole town had been put under immediate quarantine. Nobody could enter or leave, which meant that he was staying and got another chance to see her again to say goodbye properly. He had heard a fracas inside and had let himself in and he was pleased that he had. He nagged her to see a doctor and she pretended that she would to placate him.

  “I’m pleased you came back,” Inès said quietly, embracing him again, clinging onto him for dear life. Like Delaney she had only known him a week yet he had made an impact on her pathetic life. Her mother and Durand had kept her sheltered from the outside world and she knew so few people that the rare times she made any friendships she placed great value on them, possibly building them up to be more than they were.

  Lucien rubbed her back and he debated whether he should tell her how he was feeling. She had already been exposed to multiple cases and appeared immune so he did not feel like he was endangering her. He hadn’t even been diagnosed yet and would see a doctor within the next few days if he didn’t feel better soon. Under the circumstances it was for the best that he hadn’t made it home, though at the rate the Influenza was spreading he feared it would end up on their doorstep eventually.

  Lucien fancied he knew what Inès was doing when she rolled out from under him and jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He heard the tap running and he decided to check on her, mainly because of how anxious she had been before. He was surprised to find she was rinsing a different part of her body to what he had thought she would be, Inès drinking from the tap and then positioning her nostrils under the flowing water. It took Lucien’s seed entering her to make her think of the spores that the creature might have planted in her when its tongue penetrated her.

  “You all right?” Lucien asked. Perhaps this was some old wives tale he didn’t know about, though washing his sperm from inside of her seemed a better way of trying to prevent pregnancy.

  “I’m fine. Go back to bed,” Inès said after spitting out another large quantity of water. Lucien saw she wasn’t coming with him and he strolled to the sitting room and sat on the sofa and waited for her. She had been furtive when he asked about where her mother was, claiming she had gone away. He found it strange that there were no pictures on display, Lucien having been sure that there would have been a picture of her late brother on show. Inès returned to the bedroom eventually and she looked for her lover, standing at the doorway of the living room, beckoning him with her finger to join her in the bedroom. The sight would have had him running to follow her ten minutes ago; for now he was sated and had bigger things on his mind.

  “What’s really going on here, Inès?”

  “Nothing.”

  “My uncle has it in for you. That’s weird in itself, and coming here, finding you like I did... I’m more broadminded than most and I can believe almost anything so try me.”

  “Georges and I have resolved our differences. Come back to bed. Please.”

  “If we’re to stand a chance you have to be honest with me.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, I promise, if you come back to bed now.”

  “Talk to me now. What we’ve just done is supposed to bring couples closer. I don’t feel like I know you at all right now.” He tried to make allowances for her strange behaviour by pinning it on her brother’s loss, only this didn’t ring true anymore. Three years had passed and her loss, while tragic, was nothing special in these times. Her problems lay much deeper and seemed beyond Lucien, who didn’t want the aggravation. Her instincts, which had warned her that Lucien was using her and was only interested in her because she could help him see his uncle, had some validity for now that Lucien had seen Georges and had reaped additional benefits, his interest in her was waning. Etienne’s wife was a shrew in training, not that dissimilar to their dear mother, and Lucien had no wish to dive headfirst into a relationship with a troubled woman with so much baggage for her tender years. Life was too short to waste on such nonsense and if making her happy was going to be hard work then he wasn’t sticking around.

  “There’s nothing to me. I’m just 17. I haven’t got your experience.”

  She stared at him vacantly, the very picture of innocence, and Lucien let up on her. He was glad she didn’t have his experience, though there was clearly something the matter which he would insist on getting out of her in the morning or else he was gone. He followed her back into bed and she slept in his arms all night and she woke up before him in the morning. She kissed his cheek as he slept, kissing him goodbye. Today, somehow, someway, she was killing that creature. It was the only way she could move on with her life and right the awful wrong she had committed. Lucien made out there was potential for them and she would risk everything for this possibility, however faint.

  Georges was always pleased to see Royer who returned to his single room late at night when he could escape his ward. It was easier to sneak in lately with the skeleton staff being too busy to go chasing after him. The nurse Georges was accused of striking, Isabel, had contracted Influenza and was said to be critical, which meant that the case was no further forward and he remained isolated and it was nice to have Royer’s company. Royer entertained him with one of his stories that he recounted on a weekly basis, of the beautiful banshee he had seen in No Man’s Land. Royer demonstrated the poses she had made and spoke in shorthand, which Georges understood perfectly. Most of it was straightforward, if Royer’s audience were inclined to make an effort, though unfortunately most were disinclined to engage him.

  Inès entered and closed the door behind her. It was the first time Georges had seen her all day, which was unusual, and he greeted her warmly. “Have a seat, Inès, Nann was telling me about an earlier monster he saw.”

  “Is it connected to our one?”

  “No.”

  “Then I haven’t got time to hear it. It dies tonight,” she said determinedly. She had spent all day putting her affairs in order, in case the worst should happen. Organising her will had taken the longest time, Inès leaving everything to the nursing home. Lucien didn’t need the money and she felt obliged to pay something back to the place she so egregiously wronged. “I have a plan.”

  Inès had not been keen to divulge her plan to Royer until Georges insisted she do so and she realised he could fulfil a purpose. Georges was too weak to walk for himself now whilst Royer was still reasonably agile, demonstrating the increased vigour of a madman, so potent that even their monster, spores and all, couldn’t completely incapacitate him. Before they set off Georges demonstrated his sublime forgery skills, copying Durand’s handwriting perfectly, reaming off two letters to the addresses of supposed chapters in London and New York. He gave stark warnings of what had befallen them, lying through his teeth in an attempt to dissuade them from copying Durand’s mistake. Georges did this to wrap up all loose ends in case they did not return and with Royer’s assistance he sneaked back onto his old ward and asked a trustworthy patient to see that they were posted when he was able. With this duty done Inès provided Georges and Royer with some normal clothes to wear and the three of them left the building out into the darkness of the night.

  Royer walked at Georges’ pace, holding his hand which was wrapped around his shoulder. Georges coughed profusely, movement making him feel much worse, whilst Inès walked several metres ahead of them, leading them to their destination. Inès had never been one for small talk and Georges could get nothing out of her now. She had to remain focused. Tunnel vision had led her mother to the overflowing morgue; it would lead her to her salvation.

  The old clock tower had once been the pride of the town. That had been long before even Inès’ mother was born and in her lifetime it had slipped into disrepair. It was only when
it was extensively damaged in the war that people had shown it any concern, though not sufficient to repair the damaged structure. The clock itself had been blown off, the greatest damage centred at the top of the building. Warmongers told proud and bloated stories of the battle that occurred here, stories which Inès closed her ears to, and which she believed were the main reason why the building had not been repaired as others had. It stood as a monument to the glory of war. Still, it served her purpose, a desolate building with a sheer drop that would kill almost any creature.

  Georges asked Royer to let go of him and he sat on the floor upon entering the building, resting while Inès and Royer checked that no tramps were seeking shelter inside. The ground floor and the first floor were potentially salvageable, while the second floor was littered with debris and missing two walls. Georges joined them on the third floor which was a complete mess and seemed to be as high as they could get, the access to the tower blocked.

  “You should rest,” Royer said, walking to Georges to wrap his arm around his shoulder again.

  Georges backed away from him, saying, “I’ll rest when I’m dead, and if we don’t stop that thing soon that day’s coming fast. Summon it, Inès.”

  “I can’t get to the top,” Inès said. Her plan, risky as it was, entailed luring it to the top of the open tower and sending it to its doom. She had the scalpel again and this time she would use it to blind the creature’s other eye. Royer had a shovel to help persuade the creature to follow her up the stairs.

  “I’m not a big man. I can get through that gap,” Georges said.