The Pale King - X
Even in a lockdown most ancillary functions needed to be
undertaken in the event of a prolonged lockdown. That meant, food needed to be
taken to each cell, medicine administered, linens changed in the event of an
accident, and bathing if that accident was very troublesome. James, being a
black ward orderly, was exempt from the tracking down and catching of the “loose”
patient during lockdowns and was tasked with these ancillary functions. And
today was a busy day for him despite the lockdown. He had wheeled two more
bodies down to the morgue since the lockdown started. There was always a worry
that an illness would hit the black ward and cause something to spread among
the other wards. Years ago, the sanitarium was utterly crippled by the Spanish
Flu which helped to fill and close the cemetery next door. James learned that in
the case of that the black ward could be quarantined to kill the illness before
it spread saving the other patients and staff in the building.
That mechanism, however, was not
active in a lockdown.
James wheeled the third body down
to the morgue and placed it in the cold storage freezer next to its neighbors. The
room was small and could easily be cramped if too many bodies were stored in
there. It wasn’t meant for holding more than maybe ten, and that was if they
were crammed in like sardines. As long as the lockdown ended before the day was
out and there was indeed no illness in the ward there wouldn’t be too many more
bodies to add to the freezer.
Each new cold face, locked in
death, made James recall the first face he saw this way. The boy he recalled often
in daydreams. The boy that haunted him and pushed him to this path to helping
those who suffer.
His younger brother.
A year after his brother was born
his parents could tell there was something wrong. He wasn’t the same happy or
cranky baby that James had been at the same age and he often had a vacant
stare, losing himself in the shadows in the ceiling, or simply leaving all
existence it seemed for hours on end. James took to him quickly and held his
hand steadfast through the few years he was around. Taking him to play, walking
him through the woods, splashing with him in the lake. Doing whatever he thought
would work to spark the life resting below the surface. But no matter what James
did nothing would jumpstart that life. The flame in his brother was weak. At
night he heard his brother cry out in pain from some unseen force. He’d contort
and screech. It made James cry, hearing his brother squirming in agony.
Luckily, in James’ mind at least,
his brother would not have to suffer that existence for long. When on his eighth
birthday his parents found him lost in sleep. He was never one to wake quickly
but this day he never did wake up. It seemed his contortions had robbed him in
the dark. He lay still. And James cried one last time for his little brother.
Sad that his best friend was gone, but relieved that he was no longer in pain.
That memory, of his little brother,
spurred him forward in life to pursue the path he currently walked. To help
those who suffered the most. He would be among them and try to stifle that
pain. But not all pain could be stifled he would soon learn. The same lesson he
lamented over as he stared now at the cold dead faces in the morgue.
He brushed the hairs off the young boy’s
face, the boy who had died before he arrived that morning and let a weak smile
form.
“No more suffering. Only peace for
you.” James said clutching his crucifix.
He locked the freezer door and made
his way to the stairs when the lights flickered and turned to red. In the
darkness behind him he felt something or someone standing. A chill ran up his
spine and he spun quickly barely catching the glimpse of a shadow in the form
of a man standing in the far corner. He rubbed his eyes, but nothing remained.
This feeling of being followed was getting stronger and it made his skin crawl.
The feeling someone knew a deep dark secret about him and was simply waiting
for the opportune moment to spill the beans washed over him.
The red lights flashed, and he heard
his own heart beating. He was safe and he was alone. But…
“Red lights! Oh no!” James rushed
back up the stairs. Red lights only meant one thing. Something was wrong.
Next →
Comments
Post a Comment