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Episode
043 |
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“I
realized that my training was useful in less than ten percent of the calls,
and saving lives was rarer than that. After a while, I grew to understand
that my role was less about saving lives than about bearing witness. I was a
grief mop. It was enough that I simply turned up.” Frank Pierce, Bringing
Out the Dead The hospital smelled of sterilized
cleaner and death. The white walls
were lit by harsh, bright lights that sat receded inside the ceiling. The white tiles of the floor were speckled
with gray colors, as the only real color texture to the whole place. In their black trench coats, Jason
and Irene stood out amongst the nurses in blue scrubs and the doctors wearing
their white coats. Jason pushed his
hair away from his eyes, stopping before a nurses’ station. He moved to speak, but Irene leaned in
before he could. “<Hi,>” she
asked in a sweet voice. “<We’re
investigating the incident outside of town and we were told by the police
that the guard was brought to this hospital.
Can we see him?>” The nurse looked at the two with
underpaid eyes. “<I can let you see
him, but I’ll need your IDs first.>” Irene and Jason both took out
their badges, sliding out their professional IDs and handed them to the
woman. She accepted them and put them
in a manila folder and left it on the desk.
“<Come with me,>” she said.
She walked out of the nurses’ station and led the two down the hall. Turning at the corner, she came before a
room with two police officers.
“<These two say that they’re investigating the attack.>” “<We were told you were
coming,>” said the black officer on the left. He turned and opened the door, pushing it
in for them. Inside the hospital room
was a young man lying on the bed. He
stared comatose at the ceiling while a young woman looked to the door from a
chair next to the bed. “<You can’t
stay too long,>” the officer warned to Jason as Irene went in. At a loss, Jason nodded. Irene stepped inside, smiling
supportively to the woman.
“<Hi,>” she said again, her German carrying only a slight
accent. “<My name’s Irene. This is Jason. We’ve come to check on your…>” “<Husband,>” the woman said,
her cheeks stained red. She turned to
him, her breath ragged. “<He hasn’t
said anything since they brought him in.
He hasn’t moved or spoken. He
doesn’t even seem to know I’m here at all.>” Irene smiled supportively, rubbing
the woman’s shoulder. “<It’s
okay. We’re going to help him.>” Jason looked at her uncertainly
and exhaled. He whipped his black hair
out of his face and sat down in the chair the guard’s wife had been in. He leaned forward on the side of the
bed. “<Oliver?>” he whispered
quietly. “<Can I be heard?>” “<Can you hear me,>” Irene
corrected with a strained smile as she stood supportively with his wife. Jason leaned close. Oliver, he said quietly within his
mind. Can you hear me? Oliver
tensed up, his breathing becoming erratic.
“<What’s he doing?>” his wife said, rushing towards the
bed. Irene gently held onto her,
keeping her from approaching. Oliver, Jason went on, I
need you to talk to me. I need to know
what happened, what you saw. The
guard tensed up further, clamping his eyes shut. Jason sat back, sighing. “I can try being more…persuasive,” he said
to Irene, staring at the guard with sympathy. “<What’s
he saying?>” the wife asked frantically, on the verge of a breakdown. “<He’s
saying it’s going to be hard, but he can reach your husband,>” Irene said
soothingly. “<We’re going to help
your husband.>” Jason looked back
at Irene. “Do it,” she said with a
tense voice. “This
wasn’t a terrorist attack, that’s for sure,” Alex said into the cell phone. Sitting next to a police cruiser, he stared
up at the trees that surrounded the factory.
“This was clearly something else.” “I’ve
got bad reception,” Assif said over the phone. “Where are you?” “I’m
in a forest, outside the factory,” Alex explained. “There’s no reception in there. Even our headsets don’t work.” “Do
you think that’s an indicator of what attacked the factory?” Assif asked. “It’s
possible,” Alex nodded. “This is a serious factory, Assif. It could just as easily be all the machines
inside. This place is huge. It’s half a mile across, assuming there was
a direct route, which there isn’t. You
should see this wall. It’s a piece of
engineering in and of itself.” “Back
to the matter at hand,” Assif said.
“You said Irene and Jason are seeing the guard. Where’re Isaiah and Til?” “You
ever seen anything like this?” Isaiah asked as he and Til walked next to each
other down the narrow road through the factory. On the loose gravel, the sound of their
boots echoed off the metal world. They
both walked with their hands in their trench coat pockets, considering the
site as a whole. “Couple
of times,” Til said, watching the shadows of every alleyway they passed. “Mostly, though, it turned out to be
something not too far out of the ordinary.” “I
don’t know,” Isaiah said, watching the rooftops. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Like this isn’t gonna be some punk vampire
who just started to get his fangs. I
think this is gonna be something more serious.” “Good,”
Til muttered quietly. “Between the
knight and the trees, I could use something I can kill without too much
worry.” “You
can’t kill a tree?” Isaiah asked with a goading smile. “What’s wrong? A soft place for weeds?” “Keep
it up, one-eye,” Til joked without a smile.
“At least I have the guts to…”
He stopped. Isaiah stopped as
well, following Til’s gaze. He looked
to a large metal girder that held up a metal bridge between two different
silos. “What the hell…” he gazed. The
two approached the girder, focusing on the thick slash through the
metal. Like a clean slice through
paper, the metal had been severed freshly.
The rust that covered the rest of the girder was absent inside the
narrow slice. “What
the hell did this?” Isaiah gaped, walking around the girder. “This wasn’t done with a machine. It would have left scaring or something.” “Yeah,”
Til said, just as astonished. “But
what else other than a machine can cut through metal?” He looked around the area, then thumped
Isaiah lightly in the chest. Isaiah
looked at him, then looked around as well.
Similar slashes were all over the place. Through metal supports and metal walls,
through the thick metal doors and the solid steel stairs, clean, effortless
slices were everywhere. Oliver,
Jason said firmly, leaning forward.
The guard cowered down in his bed. “<What’s
he doing?!>” the wife screamed as Irene held her, keeping her from rushing
at Jason. Oliver,
Jason said forcefully. I need your
help. I need you to tell me what you
saw. I need you to tell me so that we
can go after it. The
guard cowered deeper into the bed. The
door was thrown open and the two police came rushing in. One sprinted towards Jason while the other
shoved Irene off of the guard’s wife. I
need you to tell me so it won’t come after you! The police officer shoved Jason’s
face down onto the bedside table, smashing a pitcher of water in the process.
He yanked Jason up, holding the collar of his jacket and shirt, choking him
with it. He started to pull Jason away
from the side of the bed. Oliver’s hand shot up. The entire room was still. Oliver, still lying fearfully on
his bed, stared up at Jason. His hand
was wrapped desperately around Jason’s wrist, clinging fearfully to him. |
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