The Pale King - X

Part 1

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.

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