The Wyrms of &alon

Jonan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Now what?”

Without a word, I stepped out into the hallway, Jonan following behind me. I looked left and right, but then heard more noises.

Screeching. Rattling. Thumping.

Jonan pointed down the hall. “It’s this way.”

I nodded in agreement. We followed our ears toward the ruckus, but only laid eyes on its cause after we turned a corner.

What we saw made us grind to a stop. Our footsteps clacked on the vinyl floor.

“Oh fucking hell…” Jonan whispered.

My spine felt like it was about to wriggle out of my skin.

Up ahead, a pair of vending machines stood in an alcove in the middle of the hallway. Intuition told me the sounds had come from one or more of the vending machines as the figure standing beside them had tipped them over, dragged them forward, shaken them about, pushed them back, and then let them lurch back into their proper place. Scrapes and scuff marks on the whitewashed walls and the vinyl floor supported this conclusion, as did the fact that the figure was wrapping his arms around one of the vending machines at this very moment. I called him a figure because, whatever he was, “man” he was not. It simply wasn’t the right word.

He slumped against one of the vending machines, knocking on the plastic window with his knuckles. His knuckles were mottled in bright blue hide, as were other parts of his body. He looked like a piece of taffy or putted, rolled into a tube, and tapered and stretched. His perfectly human head rested at the end of a blue-blotched neck that had to be at least a foot longer than normal. It was long enough that he had to curl his neck down to bring his face to the window’s level, like a question mark or an antique street lamp. A deep blue tail threaded through the gap at the back of his hospital gown. It was long enough for at least a foot of it to trail along the floor, swishing back and forth as it wriggled with excitement.

“C’mon,” he said. “C’mon…”

The sound of his voice was the final puzzle piece. Everything else fell in place as soon as I heard it, and I realized I was looking at one of my patients.

Kurt.

Rapping his fists against the plastic, Kurt reached around, grabbed the machine on both sides, and shook it in place, trying to jostle the vendables loose. This cycle played out several times over. Each time, a bag or two of snacks fell onto the plastic window’s inner surface with an airy crinkle before passing out through the dispensary below and joining the small—but growing pile—around Kurt’s feet. I counted cheese-powdered chips, bite-sized cookies, stacks of mini-donuts, and more. Kurt’s feet and toes were like the pages of a moldy old book: shriveled, discolored, almost pickled. The skin was paper thin.

Kurt was so engrossed with his food-hunt, he didn’t notice Dr. Derric and myself standing slack-jawed and silent only a couple of yards to his left. Slowly, Jonan turned to face me, and I reciprocated as soon as I noticed. We looked each other eye-to-eye. With fear in his eyes, Jonan tilted his head toward Kurt and mouthed the words, “Is this real?”

I swallowed hard and nodded, and then mouthed the words, “I see it, too.”

“M-Mr. Clawless…” I said, stammering as I stepped forward.

Kurt turned to face me.

My chest puffed up. Air rushed through my teeth as I hissed in a breath.

A pair of dark filaments ran down Kurt’s face like a trail of tears. Starting from his eyes, it continued down his cheeks, over his jaw, and down his neck, disappearing beneath the hem of his hospital gown’s collar. His eyes were bloodshot, but black and indigo instead of red.

It almost looked like make-up. Almost.

Kurt lowered his head beneath the level of his shoulders—another question-mark pose—while keeping his face staring straight ahead, staring at Jonan and I with eyes full of shame.

Shame and dread.

Kurt ran his fingers over his arms.

“Doc Howle…”

“Kurt… what are you doing?” My question was barely above a whisper.

Turning, Kurt gazed covetously at the food piled by the vending machine.

Behind me, I thought I heard someone muttering.

Kurt licked his lips. “I’m still hungry, Doc.” I could hear his stress in the depths of his breaths. “I’m hungry like you wouldn’t believe.”

The sound was strangely resonant. Like blowing air in an empty bottle.

Kurt ran his fingers through his hair; a clump or two came loose and fell to the floor. “It just doesn’t stop.”

“Why di—” I squeaked, my voice breaking. “Why didn’t you call for me? Or a nurse? Or… anybody?”

Kurt held his hands near his stomach. His head drooped apologetically. He angled his feet inward.

“I didn’t want it to be real,” he said. “And… eating feels so good.” His expression brightened, blue-and-black-shot eyes and all.

But then, pausing, Kurt stared at his hands. He twisted about, looking himself over—tail included—as if for the first time.

“Holy Triun… what’s happening to me…?”

The muttering behind me got louder. Turning, I saw it was coming from Dr. Derric.

“What the fuck…” Jonan said. He said it repeatedly, and beneath his breath, like it was a mantra to ward off evil.

Kurt sank to his knees. He bent over and splayed his hands across the floor.

“Help me…” he said, quivering. “Oh Holy Angel, please,” he started to sob, “help me!”

Immediately, I knelt down at Kurt’s side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Jonan simply stared at him like he was an experiment gone wrong. Dr. Derric couldn’t take his eyes off of Kurt’s altered flesh.

And, I admit, it was difficult to keep myself from staring.

It was like what I’d seen on Merritt’s face earlier in the day. The worst bits were the back of his neck, his hands, and his growing tail. Like tar seeping from the earth, dark blue flesh had broken through his human skin, whose undersides were moist and sticky even as the skin itself curled back, dried out, and peeled away. Dark filaments ran across his limbs like creeping vines, likely presaging where the changes would spread next.

With a sudden yelp, Kurt cried out in alarm. “What are you doing?!”

Kurt used his lengthened neck to whip his head over his shoulder to see Jonan, who had crept up behind him and squeezed the tip of Kurt’s tail with his gloved hands.

“Stop it!” Kurt barked. “Stop! It!”

Kurt lurched toward Dr. Derric, making Jonan stumble backward.

“Fucking hell!” Jonan snapped.

My eyelid twitched. I felt like I was made of fire, and was about to… I don’t know, explode? Reality didn’t seem real anymore.

“Both of you, stop it!” I hissed.

Closing my eyes, I shook my head, taking deep breath after deep breath. I reached to fidget with my lucky bow-tie, only to remember it was hidden beneath my PPE. Instead, I settled for softly pressing my knuckles into my neck.

Withdrawing my hand, I put on an emergency smile. “Kurt…” I said, taking another deep breath, “You heard the announcement on the news last night, about the outbreak, right?”

Both he and Jonan nodded.

“Well, you see… you’re… infected,” I said. “You’re just unwell, Kurt, that’s all.”

I found myself using the same voice I’d used to convince my kids that the Tooth Fairy was real. And, honest to God, I wished I could believe myself.

Jonan pursed his lips, looking like he was ready to throw up.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“R-Remember how I said you weren’t my only patient with Nalfar’s Syndrome?” Saliva clumped like sand in my mouth. “Something similar is happening to her, too.”

Holy heck. What must be happening to Merritt right now?

The thought of this happening to Mrs. Elbock sped my breathing up all over again, hurtling me back toward panic mode. But I tried my best to swallow that worry. I couldn’t afford to have a nervous breakdown right now, not when both Kurt and Jonan needed me.

“Dr. Howle…?” Jonan blinked. He took a step back. “What the fuck are you talking about? I haven’t heard about this.” He spoke as if him not knowing about something was sufficient cause for its non-existence.

I clenched my jaw and shook my head. “We—CMT leaders, I mean… we were instructed by Director Hobwell to keep certain details about Type Two cases on a need-to-know basis only. But, yes, it’s true.” I gestured at Kurt. “This is a Type Two case, and”—my thoughts turned to Merritt—“similar changes are happening in other Type Two cases.”

“What do you mean ‘similar changes’?” Kurt asked.

I cleared my throat. “The jury’s still out on that,” I said. “But,” looking Kurt in the eye, I pressed my hand down on his shoulder in emotional support, “whatever it is, we’re going to figure it out,” I told him.

There were tears in his eyes. “So… this is happening, and you’re going to keep it a secret?” he said.

The expression on Jonan’s face went completely flat. “No.” Jonan shook his head. His eyes widened with understanding. “It makes sense. If news of this got out? There’d be riots. Riots and pandemics are like oil and water—and, like oil, riots burn.”

As Dr. Derric spoke, I realized my left hand had been visibly trembling. I had to take my hand off Kurt to grab hold of myself and keep my hand steady.

Both of them stared at me.

“Are you alright?” Jonan asked.

“No,” I said, matter-of-factly. “No, absolutely not.” My words exuded concentrated stress. I was getting more and more agitated with each passing second. “Absolutely nothing about this—nothing about—”

—But I cut myself off.

“Kurt, is it?” Jonan said.

Kurt nodded.

“Right now, we need to get you back into a room before anyone else sees you.” Jonan looked at me. “I’m not going to risk walking him to his old room; we’ll put him where I was working.” But then his gaze trailed off into the distance, grazing the side of my head. “I doubt my other patients will live long enough to cause much of a fuss if they see a snake-man in the room with them.”

I was about to go along with Dr. Derric when a thought occurred to me.

“Nurses and other physicians regularly make their rounds in these parts,” I said. “I think I know of a better place for Kurt, though…” I shook my head, but then decided against speaking further.

“What is it?” Kurt asked.

“You won’t have the best roommate,” I said.

“And where is this, exactly?” Jonan asked.

“Room 268.”

“No location prefix?”

“It’s old,” I said. “Mostly used for period dramas.”

Jonan nodded in understanding. “Perfect.”

Getting up, I stepped back as Dr. Derric moved to kneel beside Kurt. “Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

“I… I—” Kurt stammered.

“—That means no,” Jonan said. He threw his arms around Mr. Clawless and helped him to his feet.

Jonan glanced at me. “A little help, Dr. I-Want-To-Help?”

“Yes.” I nodded. I was more than happy to oblige. “Follow me,” I said, “it’s this way.”

Despite having only used it once, I could perfectly picture the route Heggy and I had used when we’d taken Letty to Room 268, as if the entire trip had been pre-programmed into my brain. I could tell you the exact number of footsteps I’d taken, the exact locations of each, how my body had been positioned throughout, and what I was thinking from moment to moment.

On a whim—I was literally dying to know—I decided to ask Kurt about it.

“Uh… Kurt?”

“Yeah?” He craned his neck over to me. His tail flopped to the side as he did so.

Jonan stopped. “What gives?”

I pressed my arm against the hallway wall. “There’s something I need to ask him.”

Jonan sighed. “Now’s not really a good time for that.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, but it’s—”

—Jonan rolled his eyes. “Just ask your damn question and then let’s keep going.”

I stared Kurt in the eyes. “Have you noticed any strange issues with your memories recently?” I asked.

Kurt’s eyes widened. His head bobbed as he nodded affirmatively.

“All my memories… it’s like someone made a movie out of my life. Like… I can tell you every single word my Dad ever said to me.”

Fudge.

“How did you know?” Kurt asked.

Clearing my throat, I licked my lips. “As I said, you’re not my only Type Two Nalfar’s patient. I just wanted to see if that symptom had appeared in others, and you’ve just confirmed it.”

“Great, great. Photograph this moment in your memories and enjoy it later,” Jonan said.

I nodded, and we hurried onward. A couple minutes later, as we neared our destination, Jonan shook his head and whistled quietly, startled by the antiquity of our surroundings.

“Yeah,” he said, “no one goes back here.”

“That’s the point,” I said.

We trod around a corner and down a hall.

“Does Ani know about this?” Jonan asked.

“No.” I glanced down at the floor.

“Then we’re telling her first thing tomorrow,” Jonan said.

I stammered. “W-What?”

“Life is a race between yourself and disaster,” Jonan said. “The winner is whoever gets their shit together first. We need to act now, before this thing boils past the point of no control.

The tip of Kurt’s tail swished back and forth nervously on the vinyl floor. “What do you mean point of no control?”

“Think about the people you meet out on the street,” Jonan said, “and then think about what would happen if we started screaming from the rooftops that people have begun to turn into snakes. And remember, not every schmo out there has as much mental fortitude as I do.”

Kurt’s tail stilled as his eyes widened once more. His jaw went slack.

“Oh no…” he whispered.

Jonan nodded. “My point exactly.” Dr. Derric glared at me calmly, without anger, but with great intensity.

It was a short walk to Room 268. As we stood with Kurt in front of the old, glass-paned double doors leading into the Room 268’s foyer, I turned to Kurt and said, “There’s an elderly woman in here by the name Letty, and she’s hostile.” I raised my hands in front of myself in a defensive gesture, and moved them with my next words: “very, very hostile.” I exhaled sharply. Hot breath bounced off the inside of my face-mask. “I’m just going to be blunt and say that it’s probably best if you try avoiding any and all interaction with her. The more the better. Although,” I added, “if she asks—or if she gets bored—I think it would be worthwhile if you tried to teach her how to use a console—and before you ask, no, she doesn’t know how to use them.” I sighed. “Hopefully, VOL News will keep her occupied, but… you never know.”

Now it was Kurt’s turn to stare in shock. “You’re letting her watch VOL?” he said, eyebrows rising in surprise. A tiny sprig of his eyebrow hair fell off his face and floated down to the floor. “Don’t you know what that stuff does to old folks’ brains?”

I chuckled sadly, letting my head droop. “All too well.” I slowly shook my head. “All too well. However, at this point, she’s probably worse than they are.”

Kurt bent his neck down far enough so that he could reach to scratch the top of his head. “Maybe getting found by the police or something might be better.”

I shook my head. “No, Kurt, it wouldn’t.”

“Ahem,” Jonan said, loudly. “I’m going to say this now—and,” he locked eyes with me, “I expect you to back me up on this, Dr. Howle.” He turned to Kurt. “Kurt, once you’re inside, I’m going to lock the door.” Jonan’s face was emotionless and stern. “We can’t have you wandering around the halls, especially come sunup. And if this hunger of yours proves to be a common symptom, we’re going to need all the food we have, and more.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered, “you can’t—”

—Kurt nodded. “I… I understand, just…” he sniffled, “please don’t forget about me.”

Jonan smirked. “Trust me, I’m not going to be forgetting this anytime soon.”

We let Kurt walk in. Jonan locked the door behind him with a swipe of his hand on the chip scanner of the console beside the door. He tapped through some settings on the console.

“There, it’s now locked from within,” he said.

On the other side of the door, Kurt nodded, and then disappeared through the inner pair of doors.

Dr. Derric turned back to me. “First thing in the morning tomorrow, we ‘re going to have a CMT meeting.”

I nodded. “Obviously.”

“Right now, we’ve got ourselves a new priority. We need a discreet means of identifying Type Two cases ASAP, and we’re going to need a plan for housing them in a secure location separately from the staff and the public. We can’t let these… things wander around with impunity.” He shuddered. “All hell will break loose.”

Gulping, I nodded my head shakily.

Fudge me up the axe.

In my chest, my heart was racing faster than a racehorse five yards from the finish line. My breaths were getting shallow, and my hands were shaking up a storm.

“I… I need to get some water,” I said. Abruptly, I ran down the hallway as fast as I could, desperate to get to the nearest bathroom before I puked my guts out or turned into a fudging snake monster.