The Wyrms of &alon

Andalon’s words rang in my head like church bells announcing a death.

You need to eat. Eat lots of stuff. Lots and lots!

Paresthesias crawled up the nape of my neck.

Yes, Andalon had been talking to me when she’d said it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling—no, the certainty—that Kurt’s polyphagia had fulfilled Andalon’s words like a prophecy of old.

The two had to be linked, and if they weren’t, I’d eat my bow-tie.

The question was: how were they linked?

Had Andalon somehow known about Kurt’s polyphagia in advance? Or—I shuddered—had she been the one to cause it?

New synapses formed in my brain as I put two and two together, and then two and three and two and four.

It hadn’t been my imagination. The flickering lights, the swinging fixture. My gut told me that that display was the same power that Merritt had used to lift the cup. The same power that I had—

—But I banished the unwanted thought with a shake of my head.

I picked up the pace of my walk.

Type Two NFP-20 infection. Nalfar’s. Psychokinesis. Polyphagia. Kurt’s stomach.

Andalon.

They were linked. They had to be.

But what did it all mean?

Stopping in my tracks, I pressed my gloved hands to the sides of my head, closed my eyes, and shouted “Andalon” inside my mind as loudly as my thoughts would allow, hoping it would summon her.

Hesitantly, I opened my eyes.

“Fudge,” I muttered.

Andalon was nowhere in sight.

More thoughts to drive myself crazy over, I guess.

“Hooray…” I whimpered softly, in feeble mock triumph.

What I wouldn’t have given to have had a chance to explore this issue in more depth, instead of running around like a crazy person while waiting for Andalon’s phantom presence to grant me an audience.

Explore…

Holy spitballs.

As my wife put it, I was a worrywart. Worrywartdom was superficially similar to absent-mindedness, in that both types of people had a tendency to easily get knocked off track. But the underlying causes of both types’ attention deficits were utterly distinct. An absent-minded person drifted from one thought to another because they never sank their claws deep enough into any one thought to anchor themselves beside it. On the other hand, a worrywart like me suffered from exactly the opposite problem: we kept jumping back to a single idea that had grabbed our sensibilities by the jewels and wouldn’t let go.

Exhibit A: I’d traveled all of a hallway-and-a-half to an elevator that would take me to the Quiet Ward when my worrywartdom boiled over, grabbed me by the collar and firmly planted my behind on a cushioned bench in a niche in the hall.

An idea had popped into my undead head.

I whipped my work console out from my PPE pocket and started up a videophone call with Merritt Elbock.

Yes, Yuth needed me to help with Letty. I knew that. But what I had in mind wouldn’t take long.

The call rang and rang, making my pulse flutter. In between the passing seconds, an old story unwound itself within my memories. According to legend, long ago, when the Triun still walked the earth, there was a boastful man of superlative strength. No mortal opponent could defeat him. So confident in his strength was he, and so desirous was a greater challenge, that he sought out the Moonlight Queen and asked if She would call the Hallowed Beast, so that he might test his strength against the Godhead’s mightiest hypostasis. The Queen of Law advised him to desist. “No earthly power can rival that which fashioned that very earth,” said She. But, ever stubborn, the strong man persisted in his request, and upon his third entreatment, the Moon granted him his wish. The battle was to occur at the summit of the Riscolts. After a lengthy journey, the strong man arrived. The Beast appeared before him. Its voice was thunder; Its mane, swirling storm-clouds. The rocky peaks were Its fangs and claws; its ivory wings were the very roof of the sky itself.

“Boastful fool who wishes to test his strength against mine,” spake the Beast, “carry the sky upon your shoulders forever more. In bearing this weight, you shall come to know my power. The weight of the sky across all eternity is to my strength what a lonely tear is to the vastness of the sea.”

I remembered learning the story in Sessions School, and sharing it with my sister. As I grew older, Dana liked to say that that strong man from myth had it only half as bad as I did. Though he might have had to hold up the weight of the sky, only I was crazy enough to try to bear the weight of everyone beneath the sky—a far greater burden to shoulder.

The console screen shifted to videophone mode. Someone had answered the call.

“They say the Angel died for us. So what?” Dana used to say. “Try living for us, instead. Yeah, it’s harder, but it’s worth it.”

Videophone call came through. Instead of a well-lit hospital room, the screen showed a darkness split open by a single shaft of light. The light illuminated the wavy surface of the blanket’s fabric, beside a precipice of elbow.

“Merritt?”

“G-Genneth?” A voice responded, filled with trepidation. And though it was rough, muffled, and scratchy, it was unquestionably Mrs. Elbock’s.

Wait… is she covering the bedside console with her blanket?

“Merritt, could you please take the blanket off the console?” I asked. But she didn’t respond. “Merritt…?”

“…What is it?” The muffled reply was barely audible.

She was scared.

“Merritt, this is important, I—”

—She pulled the blanket out of the way.

What I saw made my heartbeat quicken.

No… Oh no…

Merritt turned her head, letting me see the horror in all its glory. I forced myself to smile, subtly biting down on my lower lip to keep myself from gasping or worse.

My initial response was confusion. For a moment, I thought I was looking at a mask, or a grisly feat of make-up. But it wasn’t. It was real. The last time I’d seen her, the sight of mottled green flesh on the back of her neck had etched itself into my memory, surrounded by fibrous, curling peels of skin. In the interim, it had spread. The zombie flesh had eaten its way through the right half of her face. The rough, dewy, dark green had climbed up her neck and clawed the human skin off her cheeks. What remained of that half of her face peeled away in retreat. A couple of the curling skin flaps lifted Merritt’s eyebrow off her face. The hair on that side of her head looked as if it had been shaved off.

The more I looked, the worse it looked.

A couple dregs of her wavy, strawberry-blonde locks still remained, dangling from the seam where the green creep reached its furthest extent. Dark, glistening ooze kept severed skin flakes stuck around her eyes, glued in place like paper tears. And her eye…

Merritt’s right eye was being invaded by a stain. It was like gold leaf had been slipped into her cornea. It glistened and glowed, its edges spilling like frozen cataracts into her pupil’s dark depths.

She’d been eating her blanket. How else could you explain the ragged-edged crescents that had been torn out from the cloth?

Yet, the other side of her face looked the same as it always had, only now unkempt and distressed. Hair there was completely undone—frizzled and anxious—drooping over her other eye like a curtain. If it had been a real curtain, I imagined she would have wished to hide behind it, in the hope that she might disappear.

I took a deep breath, but the movement lag took away much of the calming effect it would have otherwise had. I swallowed hard before I spoke, trying my best to keep my jaws from clenching shut.

“I—I take it you’ve been… h-hungry?” I said.

Merritt turned her head so that the healthy side faced me. Still, she hung it low, ashamed.

“The colors have been so intense lately,” she said, softly. She averted her eyes. “It’s like the air’s alive. It’s filled with ribbons and roses, and so many other things. I couldn’t name them all even if I tried.” She briefly let her eye meet mine. “Yes, Dr. Howle.” She slowly nodded once. “I’ve been very hungry.” She traced her fingers down her altered cheek. “Does Nalfar’s cause this?” she asked, earnestly. “When I… when you look at me, Genneth, do you see what I see when I look in the mirror? My… face? Or is it all in my head?” Her lips trembled. “I’m scared, Genneth. I’m so scared.”

Muscles in my chest twitched with stress.

“I guess…” My voice broke. “Well,” I sniffled, “it’s a good thing I called to check in, isn’t it?” I tried to smile, even as I started to cry, and not just for her.

The future was written on her transfigured face. Merritt was the future: Kurt’s future; my future.

That was the real reason I couldn’t get Merritt out of my thoughts. Who was I kidding? I was just being selfish, wasn’t I?

That was one of the burdens that came with being a doctor of the mind. You couldn’t help but try to diagnose and treat yourself, even when you were supposed to be devoting your expertise to helping others.

I cleared my throat. “You’re not the only one going through this, Merritt,” I said. “You’re not alone. I…” I squeezed my hands into fists, feeling the plastic brush against my fingers. “I have other patients that are on the same path as you. You’ve heard about the plague, haven’t you? The pandemic?”

“The Green Death?” she asked.

I took another deep breath. Screw the lag.

“Yes.”

“Do I have it?” Merritt asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded. “Yes, Merritt. You are infected. The disease presents itself in two very different forms.”

She lowered her head. “I haven’t seen anyone like me on the news.”

“That’s because you have a Type Two infection.” I scraped my fingers along the top of my thigh. “It’s pretty rare.”

“Genneth… what kind of disease can do… this?”

I’ve been asking myself the same question all day.

I shook my head. “I don’t know, but, I promise you, I’m planning on doing everything I can to try to find out.” Now I could finally bring up the idea of mine that had started this conversation in the first place. “Just so you know, I’ve been put in charge of the Crisis Management Team for Ward E. I’ve got some real bureaucratic power under my belt. I get to help plan treatment protocols and everything. One of my teammates is none other than Dr. Cassius Arbond.”

That got a smile out of her. I just wish the sight of it on the changed side of her face didn’t make my skin crawl. “Yep. Our resident surgical savant. Especially in light of the… progression of your symptoms, I think Dr. Arbond will agree with me that we should take a look inside you to figure out exactly what’s going on.”

“Another scan?” she asked.

“No—no no no,” I muttered. “Not after what happened last time. I’m talking about exploratory surgery. And if it’s possible to treat the…”— I couldn’t bear to say the words—“well…it’s the only way we’d be able to find out. Out of all the Type Two infections we currently have at WeElMed, yours is our most advanced case. Anything we can learn from what’s happening to you will help us be of more help to you, and to anyone else who’s suffering from this… frightful condition.”

“I’ll do it,” Merritt said, after a moment of silence. “I’ll do it.”

All the spiders I’d been holding in my belly wriggled down into my legs. My spine tingled. It was the answer I’d been hoping for.

Out of force of habit, I took a deep breath to steady myself. “Alright then. I’ll send you a message once I’ve talked it over with Dr. Arbond.” I cleared my throat.

God, my mouth was dry.

“Merritt, just so you know, next day or so, you need to try to eat as little as possible. I hope it won’t take any longer than that to find the necessary window in Cassius’ schedule. If it turns out to be a wash, I promise to let you know as soon as I can.”

“Genneth… I want you to be there.”

I smiled nervously. “I’m not much use in a surgical theater,” I said, “But… I can be in the viewing room up top.”

“Yes. Please.”

“It’s a promise.”

I pursed my lips.

“Stay safe, Merritt.”

She nodded, and I ended the call.

I sat still on that bench for a little while, staring off into nowhere as my thoughts raced… everywhere.

And then got up, and got back to work.

I had another obligation to deal with.

Letty, here I come.