James emerged smoothly from his sleep. He was propped up on a clean bed. There were people around him, doctors, nurses, but they were paying attention to other people. He was groggy. He’d been given anesthesia, he realized. Bright lights overhead, that old, familiar smell. An Emergency Room.
He forced himself to relax. To work his thoughts through the fug of chemicals and exhaustion. Not in the Day Surgery Unit, so it couldn’t have been too serious. Then again, how many patients were being seen to right now?
A row of ten beds extended right down the length of the ER and into the broad hallway that terminated in double doors leading to surgery. A young man was seated on the edge of the next bed over in a hospital gown, a nurse taking his vitals, sterilized bandages wrapped around his arm and shoulder.
Everyone down the length of the ER was similarly bandaged to one degree or another.
Twisting his head, James saw that they were double stacked. His row was set out before the partitioned cubicles in which more people lay recovering.
It was all so familiar. The codes being called out, the murmur of voices, the tapestry of groans and whimpers, the rapid tread of shoes on linoleum. The chemical smells, the strong antiseptic.
The gremlin.
He saw it pinned on the bar as he clubbed it to death.
James’ whole body tensed and he sat up, the IV tubes entering his arm swinging. Saline. Blood.
He raised his hand to his neck. Stiff, thickly layered bandages were wrapped over the bite wound. His arms were also wrapped from the wrists to the elbows.
“Hello Mr. Kelly.” A nurse stopped by his bed. She studied her tablet, tapped it quickly, scrolled, tapped, looked up at him and smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he rasped.
“That’s good. No pain?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“None.”
“Good, good.” She looked past him at a mobile vital signs machine, made more notes, then scrutinized his bandages.
“What’s going on?” asked James, looking around the packed ER. “Why’s this place so crowded?”
Though he already knew.
She ignored his question. “You lost a good amount of blood and took a nasty bite to the side of your neck. But we’ve taken good care of you, and you should be ready for discharge soon.”
James frowned. “I don’t need to talk to the cops?”
“Mmm.” She tapped on her tablet again. “Normally, with the disorderly conduct, yes. Tonight? We’re stretched too thin, and the police… well. They’re busy? Your report says you cut yourself with a bottle, but clearly you suffered a dog bite, so. No cops.”
“These other folks. They were also attacked?”
The nurse hesitated. “Ye-es.” She clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s… it’s been a weird night. Now, we’ve got you on Amoxicillin, and you’ll need to pick up more on your way out along with your pain medication. Dog bites can be quite nasty -”
“This wasn’t a dog bite.”
The nurse hesitated again. Blinked, and visibly decided to not have heard him. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to keep moving, but ring if the pain increases.”
And with that she hit him with her patented smile and walked away.
What the hell? None of it was supposed to work like this.
“Hilarious, isn’t it?” A woman in her early thirties lay in the bed to his left, forearm bandaged but wearing her street clothes, a little black dress and knee-high boots. Even from where he lay James could smell the booze and cigarette smoke off of her, and from the smeared make-up it was obvious she’d been sobbing hard not too long ago. She was composed now, though, and some part of him registered that she’d been beautiful, once; but like almost everyone he knew, she clearly lived hard and suffered from it.
“Rabies.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re trying so, so hard to believe the city was invaded by an army of rabid raccoons. It’s adorable.”
James’s instinct was to just get out, but he needed more information. Confirmation that he wasn’t going insane. “You were attacked?”
“Little shit with huge ears? Worst come on in the world. And trust me, that’s a high bar. There I was at Kill Switch, trying, just… like, innocently trying to do a line when these words appeared, and I was like, oh shit, this stuff is good, but then…” She waved a hand. “He showed up…”
James leaned closely. “So, you acknowledged, or whatever?”
“I think so?” She blinked at him. “He came out of one of the stalls. When nobody else screamed, I was convinced I was on a bad trip, but then the little shit bit me.”
James tried to picture it. Some lurid club bathroom, women peering into the mirror, none of them reacting to the gremlin. “How’d you get away with just the one bite?”
“Hmm?” She closed her eyes. “I shot it. Glock 43. Never leave home without it. Man, you should have heard those bitches scream…”
There was more he wanted to ask her, but his skin was crawling. He had to get out of here. He pulled the tape off the inside of his elbow and pulled the IV out. No cotton swab or bandage to staunch the blood, but he didn’t give a shit. Instead, he stood, found his legs shaky, but after a second knew he could walk out.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Which was… impressive. Given what he’d been through. No matter. He’d figure that out later.
“Where you going?” asked the woman.
“Away from here.”
She looked around, a calculating expression crossing her face, then nodded. “You know what? That’s a good idea. I’m supposed to talk to the cops, but seeing as there aren’t any around…”
With no IV, she simply swung her legs over and stood. Tottered for a moment, then caught her balance. “There.”
James didn’t wait for her. He navigated the press till he reached the supervisor on duty at her station and demanded his belongings back.
“Sir,” she began tiredly, “you’re not cleared to leave just yet, we need to monitor -”
He caught her gaze and held it. “I wish to be discharged. Now. I understand the risks. I have no complaints. Please bring me my stuff.”
The woman was clearly exhausted and at the limits of her patience. “Fine. You know what? Fine. Get dressed then talk to the front desk about your insurance situation.”
A moment later his clothing and belongings were handed to him in a clear bag, along with his prescriptions. He stepped into a triage room by the entrance to the ER lobby and got dressed.
His heavy coat was ruined. James considered wearing it anyways, then sighed and gave it up for lost. Too much blood, too many tears. Damn it. He’d liked that coat. But he pulled on his jeans, thermal shirt, Led Zeppelin t-shirt, his old, discolored hoodie, all large enough for him to insert his bandaged arm through, and stashed his cell phone in his back pocket.
Then he froze, stared at the wall, and cursed.
His backpack.
Lost.
The weight of bleak emotion was crushing. All his shit.
For a moment he just stood there, then he roused himself. Pulled on his busted boots, left his gown in the bag with his coat, and stepped out into the lobby.
They weren’t even demanding to know his insurance info or home address. Shit had to be real, real bad.
No sign of the other woman. Ah well. Probably for the best.
Ignoring the stares, he strode out the entrance into the gray dawn light. The cold stabbed into him, immediate and cruel. An ambulance was pulled up before the curb, back doors open, EMT’s getting a badly savaged man out the back.
James felt a knife of regret and old pain twist in his innards. The uniforms, the language, the brisk efficiency - all of it brought so much back. But he shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets and turned away.
“So, where we going?” asked the woman, stepping out of the shadows to walk beside him.
He glanced at her dubiously.
“What?” Her smile was charming but as mechanical as the nurse’s had been. “You expect a girl to face her Nemesis 2 alone?”
Nemesis 2.
James froze.
“That’s right. It hasn’t gone away.” She pulled her black jacket around herself tightly and shivered. “Fuck I hate being in the city in winter. You got any cash? Want to go get a drink and talk?”
“I look like I got cash?”
She smiled, unabashed. “Never hurts to ask. Fine. But for real. I want to talk. About all of this. I know a place. Should still be open.”
James rubbed a hand over his beard, turned to gaze over the hospital complex, the flashing ambulance lights, the lit-up windows, the towers. All so normal. So real. And yet.
Nemesis 2.
He frowned, stared off into the middle distance, and words appeared in his vision.
90 Hours till Nemesis 2 Released
“What the fuck is this?”
“Honey, you’re asking the wrong person.” She slid an arm companionably through his own and started walking along the sidewalk. “But it’s a few blocks to the next bus stop, and since none of us can afford an Uber, I say we start walking. The name’s Serenity, by the way.”
James allowed her to pull him along. More ambulance sirens were approaching. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. He wanted to babble a bunch of questions at Serenity, but that wasn’t his way, and she didn’t seem to know shit, either.
The green letters hovered in his vision, then simply disappeared when he willed them away.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I need that drink.”
Half an hour later they staggered down steep steps into a sublevel bar so seedy it had no sign out front and was barely noticeable from the curb. The place was a narrow slot with a bar running down its length and a single row of tall tables pressed against the opposite wall. Thousands of beer mats were stapled to the ceiling, and the place stank of smoke and piss. An old TV was affixed in the back corner, and the bar had been painted over so many times it was glossy and without any edges at all.
“Herman, darling, we too early for breakfast?” Serenity grabbed a stool and slid into it with the practiced familiarity of a lifer. “Got any huevos rancheros?”
“What the hell happened to you?” The old man behind the bar was so small and slender he looked like a weirdly aged child. “How’d you bust your arm this time?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’ll take a White Russian. Mr. Kelly?”
He’d never told her his first name. “I got no money.”
“Pah, Serenity’ll take care of you this time.” She reached into her bra to pull out a folded rectangle of cash. “Get Mr. Kelly here a whiskey.”
Herman eyed them both, then shrugged, took the money, and stepped away.
Serenity turned to him and propped her chin on her palm, slouching over as if she might fall asleep any minute. “So, what do you think? It’s a bit too technical for the Rapture, in my opinion.”
“I don’t know.” James smoothed down his beard, glanced at the front door, at her, then at the TV. “It don’t make no sense. There’s no such thing as gremlins.”
“That what you calling it? Nah darling, that was a demon. I was raised Catholic.” She crossed herself. “This makes total sense.”
“But the text? What did it say, after we killed it?”
And summoned by his thought, the words appeared before him once more:
Nemesis 1 Defeated
Personal Statistics Unlocked
You are #2,789 to survive Global First Wave Nemesis 1 Incursion
Title Earned: Vanguard
89 Hours till Nemesis 2 Released
90 Days till Pits Open
Dawn of the Void has begun
“What’s it all mean? Global First Wave? You think this is happening everywhere?”
“Far as I know, that’s what ‘global’ means. Thanks Herman. You’re a sweetheart.”
The bartender set their drinks down on coasters and walked away.
James had to fight to not snatch up the whiskey and drain it. Given his condition drinking was a terrible idea but fuck that. He took a deep sip. Let the cheap shit wash down his throat and light a fire.
“Ah, heaven,” said Serenity. “Much better. So yeah. Global. Doesn’t sound good.”
“Vanguard. That must be because we were part of the first wave,” he continued.
“What I’m curious about is this whole ‘Personal Statistics’ part,” said Serenity, then froze.
“What?”
She blinked, sat up straight. “Open yours up.”
James frowned, focused on that line, and the text changed.
Name: James Kelly
Class: None
Rank: Mendicant 1
Title: Vanguard
Virtues: None
Benedictions: None
First Miracle: None
Second Miracle: None
Third Miracle: None
Aura: None
Aura Strength: None
Aeviternum Points: 1
Strength: 6
Stamina: 5
Speed: 6
Agility: 4
Power: 5
Arete: 8
Unspent Points: 5
James read it all quickly, then stared through the text at the equally non-plussed Serenity.
“What the hell is all this?”
“I don’t know.” She took a big gulp of her White Russian and set it down with newfound resolve. “But I hate anything unspent. Goes against my nature. Let’s see what we can buy.”