Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Work In A Hospital With Strange Patients. We Have A LIST OF RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 20, 2023

Don't break them.      Story from Ryan Peacock Make sure to check out more of their work at u/HeadOfSpectre                          Original Post: My Co-Worker Just Resigned, He Sent Me This Email Telling Me Why : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I Work In A Hospital With Strange Patients. We Have A LIST OF RULES.      For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

Let me just start off by saying that despite everything, I do consider my job to be rewarding. I've got the ability to actually help people. People who might not be able to get the help they need elsewhere. Not a lot of people can say that. Now, the people I help might not technically be people, but as you've probably guessed, I just consider that a technicality. Sure, a blood-sucking siren who can hypnotize you with a stare might not technically be considered human, but they still need medical care, and the organization I work for

provides it. All right, so let me just rip off the Band-Aid here. Yes, monsters are real. No, they don't like it when you call them Monsters. The appropriate term is Fay. Yes, I know the term Faye doesn't always fit, but we needed a term that wasn't Monsters, since that word has kind of a negative connotation, and Fay was the one everyone just kind of settled on. No, all Fay are not evil. Some of them are real pricks, but most of them just want to be left alone to live their lives in peace. And I'm pretty sure that's just what most people want to. They can be dangerous, although really the danger they pose has been on the decline since the Emporium popped up about 40 years ago and started organizing them.

Thanks to the Imperium, the number of people killed by Fay, mostly vampires and sirens, has been on the decline. The Arachne have been able to set up their habitats in safe places where they can be left alone to farm bugs to their hearts content, and the Gorgon population has been on the rise. No real change with the werewolves or the Mao, but they were always better integrated into society than most. You see, the Imperium did the impossible. They built infrastructure to support the dwindling numbers of Fay out there, and they did it

without anyone even noticing. Take the hospital that I work at, for instance. It's a four-story tall building that's fairly unremarkable. On the surface, we operate just like any other hospital. Most of our patients are fully human, and they're none the wiser to what we're doing in the specialty clinic right beneath their feet. I mean, that sounds sinister, doesn't it? Just to clarify what we're doing in the specialty clinic is providing health care to Faye. And I'm sure some people would consider that to be sinister, but I don't. With all that said, though, this job isn't exactly

all sunshine lollipops and rainbows. Working closely with Faye, it's always tricky. And it feels a little cliche to say it, but we have a fairly strict, of rules in place to make sure that everything runs smoothly. I won't go over all of them. Trust me, it is a long, long list. Some of the rules are probably redundant. Some are just there to protect newbies and different rules can apply, depending on what section of the specialty clinic you're in.

So for starters, I'll just cover the five main ones. Number one. Patients must remain in their assigned room. for the duration of their care. This rule exists for a number of reasons. First, to prevent any bad actors from causing trouble. And second, to prevent any disputes. Not every species of Fay gets along with every other species of Fay,

and their fights can turn very ugly. I'm not kidding. A few years back, the entire clinic almost got torn apart during a brawl between a Mao and a siren. And if you have never been caught in the middle of an all-out war between a mermaid who can hypnotize people via direct eye contact and a cat who can create illusions, let me just say that you should consider yourself lucky. So yeah, this rule is there for a reason. Number two, members of the staff are not permitted to enter patient rooms without a guard present. This one, it's mostly a precaution.

Most of our patients are in need of actual medical care. But we've had some bad actors before, so it's better safe than sorry. And while we're here to help the Faye, we also need to look after our own. If a patient grows aggressive or appears to exhibit abnormal behavior, leave immediately in call security. Do not attempt to take the patient down yourself. Now, this one should just be common sense, but as many have said before, common sense isn't all that common. If a werewolf is getting angry, then it's probably best not to be in the room, unless you're

not particularly attached to your limbs and innards, that is, because pretty soon you won't be. Number four. Staff are to follow all posted safety precautions in every ward. Again, another self-explanatory rule. keep our patients separated into different sections of the clinic based on body type, physical requirements, and social needs. Ward 1 is for patients like werewolves and Kara who can pass for human prey pretty easily

and who have similar, if not identical, anatomy to humans. Ward 2 is for hemivores like vampires and sirens who may need specialty treatment for certain ailments or injuries. Ward 3 is for unique body types like arachny and gorgans who require specialty doctors to deal with them. Ward 4 is for the Mao, because it's really just best that we keep them separated from everybody else. And lastly, Ward 5 is for quarantine cases. In the event of a serious outbreak, its rules would supersede all other rules across the the clinic. This is mostly for something that would necessitate a lockdown where the entire

clinic or even the whole hospital would need to be quarantined. It is scary sounding stuff, but thankfully Ward 5 doesn't get a whole lot of use. We've had a few cases involving infectious diseases, but nothing were not equipped to handle. So I've never had a reason to worry about it. Number five. Staff are not to discuss what goes on in this specialty clinic without written authorization from the administrator. Again, I mean, this is sort of a self-explanatory rule. A lot of people don't actually know that they exist, and there's a very good reason for that. Historically, people haven't exactly been huge fans of people who drink blood to survive, turn into snarling dog. monsters, have live snakes for hair, or are literally just giant reclusive spiders.

They're a dying breed in a world that's moved past them. A lot of the people who do know they exist have dedicated their lives to hunting them down and wiping them out. Hell, I'm sure you've probably heard plenty of stories from these people, either celebrating their victories over the creatures of the night, or regretting their defeat. So for their safety, we don't usually discuss our work. If we recognize one of our patients outside of the hospital, we do not ever discuss treatment with them. The rules dictate complete radio silence, and it is enforced.

Now, technically, I'm breaking that rule by even sharing any of this. But I've got written authorization from the administrator, and this is an appropriate. approved channel, so I get a pass this time because of extenuating circumstances. I'll be getting to those shortly. This job, it's complicated. It can be dangerous, but so long as you follow the rules, everything is usually fine. At the end of the day, it is rewarding, and I am proud of the work I do here. But the rules can't protect us from everything.

I know that firsthand now. His name was Arthur Locke, although most people just called him Artie. We'd seen him before. He was something of a regular at the specialty clinic. There's no real way to say this nicely, so I'm just going to spit it out. Artie was a mess, and he was a werewolf, although he'd been banned from a lot of the local werewolf community, mostly on account of his drinking. Usually when he came to the clinic, it was either because he'd gotten himself hurt, either in a fight, or while wandering the streets,

or because one of his buddies had brought him in because he'd OD'd OD again. In case it wasn't obvious, werewolves and drugs don't mix well, and already was no exception. He was a little more mellow than most werewolves I've seen, but that wasn't saying much. I don't know how he's made it this far without seriously hurting anybody except for himself, but I worried it was just a matter of time the way he was living. I knew that eventually the local pack was going to put him down, or the Imperium, was going to send someone to do it for them. When Artie shuffled into the emergency room, the triage nurses knew to page me.

Most of the hospital staff, they don't really know what to do down here. certain members of the staff are given access to the basement where we work, but they know to call someone like me. Anytime someone shows them a purple card, as far as they know, they're specialty patients, people with unique conditions that need a special kind of care. Hey, technically it's not a lie. Anyways, when I got paged and saw already sitting in the emergency room. I knew it was going to be a long night. He looked worse than usual, with his long, unwashed, shaggy hair, plastered to his face. His beard was unkempt, and part of it seemed to be falling out in places, but he still greeted me with a mindless, gap-tooth smile.

"'Hey, Jamie, how's it going?' He rasped. "'Long time, no see.' Yeah, a whole two months, huh? How you doing, Artie? Oh, crappy. Been feeling all a few days now. I thought I could shake it, but this is real bad.

I got my guts feeling all tangled. Yeah? Well, why don't we get you into the clinic and I'll take a look at you, okay? I said. Artie nodded. and stood up from his chair. His leg seemed a little wobbly, but he was still able to stand. I waited patiently for him to move, and I watched as he shuffled forward, putting one trembling

leg in front of the other. He was moving slower than normal. At first, I'd wondered if maybe he was just high again, but this felt different. I offered him a hand of support, and I let him out into the hall and over to one of the elevators that went down to the basement. He barely made it inside before he started puking. He doubled over, letting out a wet heaving noise before retching violently. I supported him so he he wouldn't fall over as a torrent of stinking red bile splattered all over the floor. Now working in this field, you get desensitized to stuff like that very quickly. But this was way

worse than anything I'd ever smelled before. The stench was undermined by the rancid smell of human waste. The strain event had been bad enough to make Artie lose control, as it were. Artie fell limp into my arms after he'd vomited. I think he might have passed out for a moment. I held him up to keep him from falling over until the door opened into the pale fluorescent lobby. all of the specialty clinic. All right, just a little further, I assured him as I walked him out of the elevator. I hit a button inside to ensure it stayed put. Someone was going to need to clean this up before it went back into service.

You can fix me, right? Artie asked, as I led him towards our triage area. Thankfully, Samara behind the desk saw the state he was in and was already calling for a cleanup. She waved me past her into the small hallway to the left that led to Ward 1. I brought Artie over to one of the empty exam rooms, and I helped him to bed. He groaned as he flopped down, immediately rolling into a little ball as he whimpered in pain. Hurts, hurts.

I quietly closed the door, and I sanitized my hands before reaching for a pair of gloves. All right, Artie. Let's take a look at you. I approached him slowly before deciding that it was better not to touch him. Artie, can you talk? I asked. Yeah. All right, well, triage is going to get you a doctor, but before they show up, let's try and

go through your symptoms, okay? Are you having pain in your stomach right now? Yeah. Okay, when did it start? Two. No, no, no, three, three days. I didn't do nothing. I was drinking, but none of that other stuff, you know, was trying, trying to quit. How long have you been clean?

Four weeks. Been going to this church group and everything. It was helping for a bit. Four weeks. That was actually pretty impressive for him. That told me that whatever this was, it probably wasn't related to his drug use. I couldn't safely rule it out, but this seemed like something more recent. I thought the pain in my guts came from some bad takeout food I ate. But this...

Man, geez, this is something else. All right, well, tell me about the pain. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain you can imagine, how would you... Ten? Feels like my guts are coming undone. Like a cramping sensation? I asked. Sometimes, but not...

This is worse. Pain gets so bad that I black out. up in other places. I don't think I turned, but I don't know." I could see tears in his eyes now. And I felt my heart sink a little. I hated seeing him suffer like this. Just help me, please. Just help me. All right, all right. Let me try and get you something for the pain. I said quietly. I'll be right back, okay?

I quietly left the room to go grab some ibuprofen in a cup of cold water. I doubted it would do much, but it would help. I brought it back to him, and I set it gently into his hand. Try this, I said. It'll help a little. He barely hesitated before dry swallowing the pills. Can I get you a warm blanket? I offered. Yeah.

All right, well, let me just take your vitals for. first, okay? And then when I come back, I'll take some blood and we'll get the doctor in her right away. He nodded and forced himself to sit up as I brought over the vital sign monitor in the corner of the room. I took his blood pressure and checked his temperature. His blood pressure came back at 160 over 100, way over the normal range, even for a werewolf. Their vitals were usually consistent with an average human. His temperature was also running high, as was his heart rate. I let him rest and got him the blanket, I promised, along with a hospital gown, so he could change out of those soiled clothes. Dr. Mehan arrived about

an hour after I drew Artie's blood. I was waiting for her by the door when she got there. The usual customer, Curry? She asked, sounding a little jaded, although that really wasn't unusual for her. Dr. Meehan had dealt with Artie before, but I always thought that her bedside manner needed work. Doesn't seem like it, I replied. He says he's been clean for four weeks now, but the pain only started a few days ago. And you believed him? Dr. Meehan said.

He's lied to us before, you know. Yeah, maybe, but we've been dealing with this guy for years. I've never seen him like this before. I said. Uh, withdrawal, maybe, assuming he's telling the truth? She asked. Four weeks after quitting? I replied.

Dr. Mehan huffed thoughtfully. She took the clipboard from me and scanned through it, her eyes narrowing a little. Did we get his blood results back yet? She asked, not bothering to look back up at me. No, no, not yet. Although when he vomited in the elevator, I did notice there was some blood in it. Dr. Mehan gave a half nod before thinking for a moment. Have we given him anything so far?

Ibeprofen. It hasn't done much, though, I replied. All right. Can you make sure there's a room available for him when I'm done? We'll keep him overnight for observation and see if we can't help with the pain. My gut says withdrawal, but... The sound of Artie wretching in the exam room caused us both to go silent. Dr. Mehan moved towards the door, throwing it open, just in time to see Artie clinging to the bed.

Fresh red vomit spilling onto the floor. He cried in pain and covered his face with his hands. No more. Please, no more. Dr. Meehan was on top of him immediately, trying to keep Artie from falling off the bed. Just relax, she tried to say, but Artie swatted her way. No, I can't. I can't. It hurts. Please, dear God. But it hurts.

I could see tears streaming down his cheeks now. His breathing was more ragged than it was before. His body twitched and jerked violently from the pain as agonized sobs poured out of him. Okay, let's just get you laid down, Dr. Mihan said, before looking over at me. Curry, get me a sedative. I took off to get something from the cabinet down the hall along with a syringe, and I could hear already screaming, begging for the pain to stop. His voice trailed off into a mournful, broken howl, and I felt my stomach drop a little.

No, no, no. I turned to see Dr. Mehan backing out of the exam room. She looked down the hall to see Samara watching us. Code White! She shouted, and Samara ran back to her desk. I hurried over to Dr. Mehan's sign, and I looked into the examiner. Just in time to watch as Artie arrived in pain on the floor. I could see his body changing, warping into something else.

His limbs elongated. His face shifted into a more lupine form. His screams turned into animalistic howls as his hands curled into claws and coarse black fur grew out of his skin. He snarled and whined, bearing his teeth and growling in nothing in particular, as if he was getting ready to fight something off. Looking back, I think he only changed because instinct commanded him to. I think that part of him knew what was about to happen. and changing was the only thing he could think of to fight it off. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to save him.

His stomach was bulging outward, Ardy reched again, violently vomiting up more blood. And this time, I could see something in it. Red, riving shapes that twisted on the ground, his body seemed to give out beneath him. He collapsed for a moment, still alternating between whimpering and growling. His belly seemed to twist and bulge in an unnatural way, and I watched Artie press his claws against it,

as if realizing that the thing he wanted to fight against was coming from inside him. For a moment, I saw panic in his eyes, not animalistic rage or fear, But human panic. He reched again, his eyes settling on me and Dr. Mehan, as he begged us to save him. But there was nothing we could do. His belly sagged outward, and he screamed in pain. As small red worms began to poke through his skin, he clawed at them in panic, tearing gashes in his own flesh. I could hear his horrified sobs.

as he tried to fight his way out of us. But all he could do was tear himself to pieces. His belly sagged open. His entrails spilled out onto the floor, along with countless squirming worms. And already had a moment to stare at the damage he'd done before collapsing backward, crushing the exam table beneath his way.

His eyes were still wide and terrified, and I expected him to change back. Most wolves usually did when they died. But like I said before, Artie was made of starner stuff. He kept on breathing, desperately clinging to life. And the fact that he wasn't dead was no comfort to the nightmare unfolding in front of us. Dr. Meehan and I stared at the mess in silent horror. As four security officers came rushing down the hall, Dr. Meehan was the first to notice them and held up a hand.

Stop! She warned, keep your distance. We have a code lime. I need a biohazard response team prepped and ready immediately. Code Lime? I'd never even heard that one before. But I knew what biohazard meant. Understood, doctor.

One of the security guards said. Dr. Mehan looked over me next. Curry, don't move an inch. Who have you been in contact with since Arthur came in? Have you touched anyone else? Just him? I stammered. I got him water in a blanket.

That's it. All right, those worms. Did you see any others before? for right now no no no I swear I didn't she gave an uneasy nod all right as of right now you and I are going to need to be escorted toward five we're going into a 48-hour quarantine until we're sure that there's no chance either of us are infected understood a 48-hour quarantine what about already I asked if he's still alive then we'll see what we can do but right now our priority needs to be the rest of the

hospital is that clear i felt my stomach churned but i gave a quiet understanding nod yeah yeah understood the next 30 minutes passed in a blur two members of security were sent to escort us both dressed in silver biohazard suits the halls were cleared as we were led down to ward 5. Dr. Mehan and I were brought into separate quarantine rooms. I saw another team wheeling Arty into one of the Ward 5 rooms. His eyes were still open, and one of them looked at me briefly as he was wheeled past. At least I still had my cell phone, I thought. I'd let them know if I needed anything else. My head was still reeling. In the six years I've worked in the clinic, I have never seen anything like this before.

I have never seen a person split open like already had before. Maybe they should have just put him out of his misery, you know? That would have killed anyone else. I've seen patients die. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes they're just people that you can't save. But that? Crying, vomiting, splitting open?

I didn't think something like that was even possible outside of a sci-fi movie. At least Dr. Meehan seemed to know what this was and what to do about it. And I figured that I could find a way to ask her while we spent the next 48 hours waiting to see if we were going to die. At least it was just a two-day quarantine. Maybe I was just trying to find the silver lining, but I figured that this would all be over soon one way or another. It wasn't even an hour into my quarantine when I heard the announcement over the intercom.

Code Lime. In the moment I heard that, my heart started to sink. I didn't need to know what happened, to know what it meant. Whatever this was, it wasn't just Artie who'd come in contact with it. There was another code line less than one hour later, and another about 45 minutes after that. Each one hammered in the cold truth that whatever this was, it wasn't going to be over in 48 hours. Now, I mentioned before that every section of the specialty clinic has its own subset of rules. Most of them are pretty straightforward.

Mao and Ward 4 must wear tracking bracelets at all times to ensure that they can't cause trouble using their illusions. Staff are required to wear proper eyewear while in Ward 2 to avoid being hypnotized by sirens, and staff are not permitted to disrupt Kara blood rituals in Ward 1, so long as they are performed in the designated areas. It's generally pretty straightforward stuff that's only there as a precaution. Even if you slip up, the management is often willing to either look the other way, or let you off with a slap on the wrist. depending on the patient.

Most sirens aren't going to try to hypnotize or feed on the people treating them. Most Mao are going to resist their natural urge to be an asshole when their health is on the line. And most staff members aren't going to disturb a dark room full of chanting nearly identical figures. The rules in Ward 5, on the other hand, they're a lot less forgiving. You do not violate the rules in Ward 5 for any reason at any time. And the main guidelines are posted just about everywhere to make sure that you do not forget them. Number 1. Entry into Ward 5 is prohibited without appropriate personal protective equipment, PPE, and authorization from a doctor.

Number 2. Physical contact with patients in Ward 5. is prohibited without proper PPE. Number three, personal protective equipment can only be removed in designated staff rooms. It is not to be removed in hallways or patient rooms. Outside food and drink are not permitted in designated staff rooms. Number four, if a member of the staff suspects they may have been exposed to a hazardous patient, they must undergo a minimum of 48 hours quarantine.

Quarantine may be extended at the doctor's discretion based on type of exposure. Failure to report a possible exposure will be punished harshly. Number five, patients may not be removed from Ward 5 without a written discharge notice from one of the doctors on staff, and patients may not leave Ward 5 after treatment until they've completed a minimum. minimum two-day quarantine. If a patient attempts to leave Ward 5 without written authorization, lethal force may be used. In an emergency situation, a mass sterilization of Ward 5 may be enacted. The designated safe rooms are the staff rooms and quarantine rooms 501 to 510, although the

safeguards to these rooms can be shut off for a total sterilization of the staff rooms. of Ward 5. Number 6. In the event that a patient from Ward 5 violates proper exit procedure, a full quarantine may be enacted. During this time, staff are not permitted to enter or leave until quarantine is lifted. The administrator may extend the quarantine to the main hospital if necessary. And number 7. Patients who succumb to an illness in Ward 5 must be disposed.

of in the site crematorium. The few times I'd ever been in Ward 5, I needed to wear a gown, shoe covers, a hair cover, a face shield with an underlying face mask and gloves. Not wearing them now. It felt strange. Everyone going past my door was wearing them as they escorted new cold lime patients to their own rooms. And from what I could tell, there were a lot of code Lyme patients. Uh, Sylvia, what exactly is cold lime? I could hear Dr. Meehan sigh on the other end of the phone. She sounded more exhausted than frustrated, as if she hadn't slept.

We'd been in quarantine for about five hours. I sat quietly at my desk in the quarantine room, drinking a coffee that one of my colleagues had brought me. They'd also been kind enough. to give me Dr. Meehan's phone number. And I had some questions for her. It's an extreme biohazard, she replied. It means that there's something in the clinic that demands every possible precaution be taken.

A cold Lyme patient needs to be sent directly to Ward 5 for quarantine. So those worms we saw, how dangerous are they? exceedingly, she replied. Fortunately, our chance of infection was low, but it's better to be safe than sorry in these circumstances. Those other cold lime calls we've been getting, odds are they're in the same condition. Okay, um, if we were infected,

what exactly would be the next steps? I asked a little anxiously. Do you think, your infected curry? No, no, no, no, I just want to know what we're up against here. She seems suspicious for a moment before finally answering my question. You would die. A gut-warm infestation has a mortality rate of 100 percent, or it's supposed to. Gestation occurs quickly. Between 12 to 24 hours after the eggs are ingested, with symptoms appearing near the end of that time frame. Vomiting, diarrhea are the most common ones, being triggered as the worms eat away at the host.

And following that, death can occur at any time between 48 hours and five days following the initial infection. The exact time frame is heavily determined by external factors. host stress, the environment, host health, and whether or not the host is capable of spreading eggs without the worms. I've even heard of cases where host carried the worms around for longer, but inevitably, well, you've seen what happens. My stomach turned, as I remembered watching what happened to Artie. Last I'd heard, he'd spent several hours in surgery,

as they tried to fix the damage, and they'd induced a coma to try and keep him from waking up and disemboweling himself all over again. Although who knew how long that would last? I guess if anyone had a small chance of surviving this, it would be arty. I've heard a theory stating that they originally evolved to prey on mermaids and sirens, although really they can infect anyone. They incubate in. in the intestines and lay eggs, some of which they pass on to other host with sexual contact. When the worms reach maturity and can no longer remain in the host, they eat their way out of the entrails. In a normal case, they do this close to a body of water, since they can't live

very long outside of a host and can't travel far outside of water. although as I said they can infect just about anyone. My God, I sat under my breath. Indeed, my understanding was that they're increasingly rare these days. Partially because of better water treatment methods, killing their eggs before they can find a host, and partly because of the siren community's efforts to manage them. Would they have a cure?

I asked hopefully. I wouldn't call it a cure. No. Traditionally, they killed and burned their infected to prevent them from spreading the parasite. That's the only way that ever proved effective, she said. And my heart sank as I realized what that meant

for patients who were coming in. So the patients who were coming in now, I said softly. We aren't going to be able to help them. All we can do is hope they're able to survive when the worms exit, she said, in the same calm clinical tone she always used. Right now, the priority needs to be containing those who have been exposed, quarantining the ones who don't show symptoms, and isolating the ones that do. To that end, I've already spoken with the administrator, and they've notified the Imperium. With any luck, they might be able to find out the source of the infection.

From what I've been told, currently we've got around 34 cold lime patients, and that number is expected to grow considerably in the next several hours. Thirty-four and counting, I thought. 34 people in this wing with us that we couldn't help. There's an acronym I've heard during the years I've spent working in a hospital. Yo-yo. It stands for you're on your own? Typically, it only gets used when a patient arrives in a condition that's beyond help,

a severe injury or disease that's progressed too far to treat. I never really like that face. Maybe I'm just an idealist, but I want to believe that there's something you can do for everyone. Even if you can't save them, you can at least make their final hours a little less miserable. The absolute terror on Artie's face. It was still burned into my memory. The way he panicked, knowing what was happening to him, and desperately trying to fight it off. I couldn't forget it.

The idea of every single one of our patients suffering the same horrible fate didn't sit well with me. Not one bit. I didn't sleep much that night. More cold limes came in through the evening. Far more than I was able to count. Breakfast arrived sometime around 9 a.m. the next morning, about 14 hours after I'd been put in quarantine.

I recognized the nurse bringing it to me behind all the PPE. a Kara by the name of Sasha Peters. I'd always like Sasha. Kara aren't really the most social fay out there, or at least they aren't social with anyone who isn't a Kara. But Sasha was one of the exceptions. Like most Kara, she had a slight build, stringy black hair, pale skin, and large green eyes,

although she usually wore it in a ponytail for practical purposes. She was also a little taller than most Kara I'd met, although not by much. She was five foot three, which was tall by Kara standards. Most of them only hit five feet. I always figured that their short height was part of the reason that people equated them with goblins, elves, and other creatures of myth. To be fair, they'd probably helped inspire those creatures, although physically they really weren't that much different than people. There was obviously something different about them, but it wasn't immediately obvious. Holding up all right, Jamie.

Sasha asked. She set my tray on the desk, along with a sealed plastic bag, but otherwise kept her distance. About as well as I can, I replied. How's it going out there? Not good. We've had cold limes cases coming in all night. A lot of them are human. No word on the source yet.

How many? I asked. We're at 51 now. She replied. Fifty-one. Jesus. We'd rarely even had 51 patients in the entire clinic, let alone in one wing. Where the hell were we putting them? I was asked to bring them.

you this as well. She reached for the bag and tossed it out of the bed. I opened it to find a set of clean scrubs and a set of PPE inside. I'm still on quarantine though, I said looking confused. Yes, you are, but right now we need people. The situation here is already out of control. As of right now, you've only been cleared to work in Ward

5. You, Dr. Mehan, and the others, who've had a risk of exposure, won't be allowed to leave five until you've gone 48 hours without exposure or symptoms. My brow furrowed. So does my timer just reset then? I asked a little bitterly.

Ah, that's what it sounded like to me. I'm sorry. I know it's not a fair deal, but... Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I sighed, getting up to go over to the desk. I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but it beats sitting around here watching the clock. You under quarantine?

Right now, no. What can I do? She replied. If I give you my keys, can you go to my apartment and feel? feed my cat when get off shift. She nodded and gave a grim smile. Yeah, happy too.

After breakfast, I got back to work. To be honest, it was a little bittersweet. Walking through the halls of Ward 5 and seeing the state our patients were in, it broke my heart. Men, women, children, crammed into hospital rooms, normally meant for war. one person, people from all walks of life, doomed to die like this, and some of them were already dead. I could see them being rolled through the halls on blood-stained hospital beds, eyes lifeless and

afraid, bellies torn open as they were wheeled off to the crematorium by nurses in full hazmat gear. It had been around 16 hours since already one. walked through the door, and already everything was going to hell. I noticed Dr. Meehan at the center of most of it. She was one of the doctors in full hazmag gear, and even her normally cold clinical voice sounded a little strained. We need to keep the patients in an advanced state in rooms 520 to 525.

She began. The werewolf will keep in 504 until we know he is. He's clean. This has to be a first-in, first-out system. The moment vitals cease, I need the worms dealt with. Use the steam guns to kill them, then get the bodies to the crematorium immediately. And remember, full hazmat suits, people. We need full hazard gear.

What can I do to help? I asked. She turned to look at me, barely acknowledging me before giving her all. I need more people monitoring the patients in rooms 513 and 514. We've been providing doses of morphine to ease the pain, along with an enthelmin tick. We need to make sure that patients have received theirs. Is this drug even going to help? I asked.

And Dr. Mehan gave me a grave look. It's better than nothing. She finally said. And I nodded before heading back toward 513 and 514. The next several hours passed in a blur. We had three to four patients per room. But as more and more cold lime patients came in, that number quickly ballooned up to six or seven.

And I did what I could for him, providing them water, morphine, and an enthelmintech, which is a medication that destroys parasitic worms None of it did any good. The patients who got worse quickly were moved down the hall closer to the crematorium, and two or three times an hour came the hasty, unceremonious removal of a body. All of this felt like something out of a nightmare, and yet the fear had quickly faded, turning into a stagnant resignation.

There was a dread in the back of my mind, But the longer it was there, the less it affected me. It was like having a gun trained down the back of my head. Sooner or later, it just became a fact of life. I didn't watch the clock. I didn't know how much time had passed. This wasn't really a shift anymore. This was just my existence.

By the time I finally shuffled back to my quarantine room, at least 18 hours had passed. and I saw two of my colleagues sleeping in my bed, one of them still dressed in their PPE. I didn't wake them. I didn't even blame them. I just went to the chair by my desk and I passed out for a solid four hours before getting up to start working again. And when I did wake up, there were now 10 patients per room. I think it goes without saying we were totally overwhelmed. But we kept on working, kept trying to handle what was coming at us, even if it felt like we were slowly drowning. I think it was around 49 hours after Artie had first shown up that I noticed the first live patient being brought to the crematorium.

I was sleep deprived and probably a little dehydrated, but I still found myself sprinting through the hall to stop the bed being rolled down it. What the hell are you doing? I demanded. They're still alive. The quiet figures in the hazmat suit who'd been pushing the bed didn't even give me an answer. The answer came from Dr. Mehan, who came down the hall towards me. We have no more room for new patients, Curry.

Right now, we're at 258 cases, and it's not slowing down. We have patience in the hallway right now. We need the room. So you're just gonna throw a living person in the incinerator? No. We're putting a person who is nearly dead in the crematorium. Look at the state of the patient, Curry. They'll be dead within the hour.

I grimaced. I did look down. of the patient. His eyes were closed, and his head had fallen slightly to the side. His breathing was heavy. I'd seen this several times before over the last few hours. I knew there was no saving him. But to just throw him into the fire, the two figures and the hazmat suits pushed past me. And I looked over at Dr. Mehan. Behind her, I could see two more figures rolling another bed out of 525. This one was a young girl, although she was mostly dead already. Her empty eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling, and I could see blood dripping from her stomach,

where the dying worms were finishing their work. The administrator has given me authorization to mitigate the number of patients we have. Dr. Meehan said, We can't keep this up, Curry. You know we can't. The medication has done nothing. Our morphine supply ran out 17 hours ago. There are still new patients coming in.

I told you before, these people can't be saved. Another bed was being removed from 525. The patient on this one, a Mao. was clearly still alive, and kept trying to get up, trying to move, trying to escape. But their body wouldn't listen. I could see half-formed shadows appearing in the hall, weak attempts to summon some kind of illusion to save them. But the poor soul didn't even have the strength for that.

Their eyes met mine for a moment, and I looked away. I couldn't watch. Go to one of the quarantine rooms and take a rest, Curry, she said. I didn't reply. I just nodded and turned away. And somewhere far behind me, I could hear terrified sobs, followed by silence. I made my way back to the quarantine room I'd been staying in. My feet felt like they were made of lead, and my eyes were heavy.

I needed sleep. I felt battered and completely worn down. I walked into the quarantine room. Sasha was passed out on the bed nearby, and another one of the doctors, Leroy, was sleeping on my desk. He was still fully dressed in his hazard suit, and he looked like he'd been in the middle of writing something down when sleep had hit him like a brick in the head. I could hear a third person showering in the bathroom. I pulled off my plastic PPE gown, and I tossed it in the garbage. Before taking off my face shield and mask, I left the rest of my clothes on as I crashed down on the bed beside Sasha. She rolled over her hair coming undone as she did, and I started to drift to sleep almost immediately. And I was thankful for it.

And then I heard the sound of retching, the sound of pain, the sound of someone dying, and it was coming from the bathroom. I sat up, my heart skipping a beat, as I looked over towards the closed bathroom door. I heard whoever was inside a wretch, and I heard fluid spilling on the ground. No. I was on my feet immediately. Sasha stirred beside me, but didn't wake up as I ran for the door. Whoever was in there hadn't locked it, and I'm not sure if that was intentional or an oversight. The door flew open, and when I looked inside, I was greeted by a nightmare.

The woman in the bathroom was Samara. She usually worked in triage, but since this was an all-hands-on-deck situation, she'd been brought into help. Blood and bile dripled down her chin. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she stood over a pool of her own blood-flect vomit, and I could see the worms. She looked at me, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gripped the sink to keep from collapsing. I'd never seen anyone look so afraid in my entire life.

Please, Jamie, help me. She tried to take a step forward, but collapsed on the ground. She let out a cry of pain, her breathing growing heavier. As I watched blood begin to pool out of her stomach, she was coming undone. Oh my God! Sasha's voice snapped me out of it, and I looked to see her standing beside me. A hand pressed to her mouth. Please!

Samara sobbed as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and then her stomach split with a sickening noise, and I saw her eyes widen in terror as her entrails spilled out. Her face went pale, and the life faded from her eyes. She collapsed, not dead, but no longer really alive either. The worms slithered out of her entrails as her body twitched and convulsed in her final moments. Get back, I said, pushing Sasha away from the door as the worms slithered toward us. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that Dr. Leroy was still asleep in his chair,

and I reached out to tap him on the shoulder. Huh? He sat up, groggy and confused. Before noticing the scene in the bathroom, I saw his eyes, lack with Samaras. He stumbled back, falling out of his chair and backing towards the desk. Come on, I called, as he struggled. to stand. Sasha and I were already at the door, and my hand was right beside the small console that would seal and sterilize the room. Dr. Leroy scrambled to his feet, but he was moving too

slow. I watched one of the worms rear back before launching itself at his leg. I had never seen a worm move like that before. The three-foot-long creature was a little bit of a worm was a almost serpentine in the way it writhed toward him. And when it latched onto him, I heard him cry out in pain. Even through the hazmat suit, I could see Leroy's eyes widening as he frantically tried to bat the worm away. But I wouldn't budge. It tore through his hazmat suit, burrowing into the flesh of his leg. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. I closed the door. and I hit the button on the console to sterilize the room. The door locked and I heard an alarm sound as 300-degree steam-filled rum.

Dr. Leroy cried out and covered his face. And through the steam, I watched as some of the worms crawling out of the bathroom rived violently. Their skin sizzling. It didn't take much to kill him. By the time the steam faded, about five minutes later, the door unlocked, and I tore it open. The worms in the bathroom were dead, and Dr. Leroy lay on the ground. His breathing heavy and panicked. It's still in me.

I saw him grasp the helmet of his hazard suit and pry of him. off. His hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to his skin, and his face was a little red, although he was still mostly in one piece. His suit had protected him from the burning steam. Cut it out? He said, looking at Sasha and me with wild paned eyes. Cut it out of me. What's going on in here? I looked back to see D'Sha Dr. Mehan standing in the doorway, flanked by two nurses in hazmat suits. One of the worms got into a suit. Sasha sat.

Samara was infected. We sterilized the room, but it still could be living in him. It's in my leg, Dr. Leroy stammered. We need to cut it out in my leg. Please, just cut it out. Dr. Meehan stared at him before looking back toward her nurses. Barrett, Marston, get Dr. Leroy to the crematorium immediately. What? I asked.

Sylvia, what the hell are you doing? And the two figures in the hazmat suits pushed past me, Although I tried to force them off, Sasha tried to do the same. No, no, no, wait, please, Sylvia, wait. Dr. Leroy's cries fell on deaf ears. The two nurses grabbed him, dragging him to the door, and Sasha and I couldn't stop him. Dr. Meehan pushed her way into the room with surprising force, grabbing both of us and pulling us away. He's already dead.

She snapped. And you? How do I know either of you weren't infected too? We weren't. I was right there when Samara died. I saw the worms come out of her. They were nowhere near me. And she was already in the bathroom when I got here.

Sasha said. She said she was having a shower. As far as I know, she's been in there the whole time. As far as you know, Dr. Mehan repeated. Her voice, ice cold. She scoffed before pushing past us to take a look in the bathroom, where Samara's corpse lay silent. Her skin was red from the steam, but the worms lay dead.

Samara never mentioned being infected, nor did she mention any symptoms. Dr. Mehan said, looking back at us, If she was willing to lie, you might be too. For what reason? I snapped. People who are afraid don't need a reason, Curry. She sighed and shook her head. We've seen a 37% reduction in new patients over the past four hours, and now this, it never ends. I should have known this was going to happen, she said.

If we've seen a reduction in patients, then why are we sending them to the crematorium? I snapped. Because they're already dead, Dr. Mihan said. Her voice far more vicious than my own. Have neither of you been paying attention to anything that's happened in the last two days? Every new patient we have gotten has died. Every one of them, do you think I want to be doing this? Do you think I want to be killing our patients?

No, but there's nothing else we can do. We cannot treat these people. We cannot save them. The only thing we can offer right now is a kinder death. And is that what you're doing to Leroy? I asked Coldly. And what about Artie? He's still alive.

Barely. And do you think Leroy has the same chances? Do you really think you can just cut that thing out of him, Curry? I guarantee you'll kill him in the process. What's kind of? a quick death or a slow one chasing a worm that will be deep in his intestines by now, she said. So you're just going to kill him out right then?

You're not even going to try. I am going to take the merciful option. And how do you know it's the merciful option? Sasha chimed in. How do you know any of the merciful? more about these things than we do. Because I've dealt with them before. For a moment, all of us fell silent.

Outbreaks of these things are rare, but they aren't unheard of. I've consulted on them before, and in each case, the only reliable method to deal with this outbreaks has been to isolate the infected and stop it. from spreading. I told you before, this is what the sirens have been doing. This is the only treatment. I wish it wasn't. I truly, truly wish it wasn't, but I've been down this road before, and I know where it ends. This is the only way. For a moment, all three of us were silent. Dr. Mehan's breathing was heavy. I could see her shaking. but her dark eyes still burned into mine.

If we have two members of the staff infected, then it is highly likely that we have more. As of right now, I am enacting a full quarantine of the clinic. Nobody else comes in. Nobody else leaves. Is that understood? We didn't respond. Dr. Mehan quietly turned away,

leaving us alone in the room, and for a moment, the only sound was the frantic cries of Dr. Leroy as he was dragged off to the crematorium. Sasha and I watched as Samara was laid out on the blackened metal slab of the cremation chamber. It wasn't much of a goodbye, but it was something. Samara and I had never been all that close, but I'd still considered her to be a friend. and I thought she deserved better than an impersonal funeral in the crematorium of Ward 5. As the slab rolled into the cremation chamber, Sasha and I quietly took a step back, watching as she disappeared inside.

We heard the burners activate, and then we could feel the heat and smell the burning flesh. we'd become very familiar with the smell over the past few days. Several more dead or dying patients were scattered across the room, quietly waiting their turn. The few grim, dead-eyed nurses who tended to them couldn't do much more than give them a quiet overdose with some kind of sedative and let them drift away peacefully before their bodies were burned. Sasha turned to look at them, but didn't dare approach them.

Her eyes settled on a nearby Kara, who wasn't quite dead yet, and I wondered if she knew him. The door to the crematorium opened, and Dr. Mehan stepped inside. She looked exhausted, with heavy dark circles under her eyes. I've spoken with the administrator. A full quarantine of the clinic has been enacted," she said quietly. Hopefully it won't last long and won't need to be expanded to the rest of the hospital. You heard something? Sasha asked.

I have. Apparently the Imperium has sent someone to investigate the situation. They traced it back to a werewolf bar in town. A number of our patients had mentioned it. They found gut-warm eggs in the kitchen. They'd been mixed in with the food. My brow furrowed at that. Mixed in how?

I asked. Some kind of freak accident or... I don't know. And right now I don't really care, she said. The Imperium will be carrying out a full investigation. But what this means for us is that they should be able to track down anyone who's at risk of infection and bring them to us. We can quarantine those without symptoms and deal with the others.

Once they do that, there might be a light at the end of the tunnel. Those words only offered a hollow comfort. So are we going to go back to work or are we staying in here to wait our turn. Sasha asked. You can drop the attitude, Peters. I understand that you may not agree with what I'm doing, but I'm not going to start throwing people into the crematorium without a damn good reason. You and Curry are currently displaying no symptoms. Curry, I don't believe that you were exposed. Although you, Peters, I am less sure of. You were asleep in the next room while Samara was symptomatic, there's a possibility that you might be infected. So for now, you can

quarantine in Rome 503. I have a few other low-risk members of the staff in there. If you remain asymptomatic after 24 hours, then we'll talk about sending you back to work. The rules of Ward 5 say 48 hours. Sasha said. Yes, yes, I know what the rules say. Dr. Meehan began. The rules don't account for the sheer volume of patients we have right now. We don't have the luxury of 48-hour quarantines anymore.

So I'm making a judgment call. If you're infected, we'd be seeing the symptoms before the 24-hour mark. Her tone said not to argue, and we didn't. Curry, I need someone keeping an eye on the patients in 510 to 520, so get out there and put your PPE back on. I thought I was still on break, I asked. Yes, that was before I had people lying to me about their exposure. She left without another word.

The final influx of patients came around six hours later. I'd mostly lost track of time by then, but by my guess, it was around 58 hours after already had arrived. And somehow, he was still holding on. He was still comatose, but his survival gave me some small hope that maybe all of this wouldn't be a total loss. Everything just felt as if it had descended deeper and deeper into chaos. I tried to keep my head down.

I tried to keep working, but it was hard. My eyes were so tired, you know. I was struggling to focus. I needed to sleep, but there wasn't time for sleep. Some of the rooms had 15 patients in them, some only had two or three. Dried blood was smeared across all the walls. At one point, I watched security drag a crying vampire back into a her room when she tried to run for the door. She kept pleading with them, saying that she didn't

want to die like this, but they still handcuffed her to the bed. And two hours later, she was slumped over on the floor, her entrails spilling out of her as two nurses and hazmat suits sprayed her body with steam to kill the worms. I'd always heard that Vampalus. were tough to kill. But seeing one slumped on the floor like that was, the memory of it is seared into my mind. People were sleeping in the designated safe zones and all the vending machines had been broken into. A few kind souls had brought some food from the outside and the containers were scattered on the floor. I always thought that the rules of each section were meant to maintain some kind of order.

This was anything but order. And through it all, Dr. Meehan tried to keep things running. I hadn't seen her sleep since I first came back on shift several hours, or I suppose by this point it was days ago. And though she tried to put on a strong face, I knew it was catching up to her. She sometimes slurred her words, and when she wasn't talking to anyone, I know that she I noticed her space out a few times, standing mindlessly in the middle of the hall. Her eyes far away and unfocused before something else demanded her attention and pulled

her back into the madness. The nightmare just carried on. And now most of us were too tired to be afraid. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that if I started puking up blood, I would probably just regard it with a resign. frustration rather than actual terror. Like a mindless tin soldier, I marched on going through the motions one by one. Our patients died, and I'm ashamed to admit that there came a point where their deaths simply stopped mattering to me.

There had just been so many. So, so many. I just couldn't mourn for them any. I was in 512 when the nurse beside me started vomiting up blood. The name tag on his scrubs said Julian, and I'd seen him around, but we'd never really spoken much before. We'd been bringing some water to one of our patients, a new arrival, when Julian started retching.

I looked over at him, watching as he stumbled to his side, trying to make it to the nearest garbage can. I could see the red around his mouth, and I gave him a cold, weary look. Slowly he wiped his mouth. How long? I asked. Two, three hours. He paned.

I'm all right. You're dying. I replied plainly. He took a step toward me, and I took a step back. And? And? He asked. I'm not the only one.

If I say anything, Meehan's going to put me in a bed and let me die with the rest of them. She'll send me off to the crematorium. I can still help here, and they can't infect me a second time. But you can still infect the rest of us. I said, what about those of us who aren't infected? Yet, he said, make your peace with it, because we're all going into the crematorium when this is done. I gave him a wide berth as he pushed past me before attending to one of the patients, and I left him in that room, giving him a disgusted look as I walked back into the hole.

I briefly considered going and telling Dr. Mehan, although I knew what she'd do, and a part of me did agree with Julian, not about all of us ending up in the crematorium, but about still doing what you can. I decided to just keep avoiding him and let the worms deal with him. And I moved on to 5.13. And that was when I heard the screaming down the hall.

We've been going for over 60 damn hours, Sylvia. You can't do this. The rules in this case are very clear, Croft, Dr. Mehan replied. Unlike the other speaker, she didn't yell. The quarantine remains in place until 48 hours after symptoms have stopped. We need to remain here until 48 hours after the last patient has died to ensure that we aren't going to bring these worms right back out of the clinic, she said. Oh, so,

now it's about what the rules say is it? Croft snarled. You don't get to cite the rules when it suits you and abandon them when it doesn't. They either apply or they don't. I left 5.13 to go down the hall a little bit. I could see a small throng of staff members standing around Dr. Mehan and one of the other nurses, a guy who was a little younger than me. Ward 5.

is not designed to handle an outbreak of this size. Dr. Mehan said, I have had to make some judgment calls, but I have made them the best I can. As the most senior member of the staff on site, it is necessary for me to make these calls. If you don't like the way things are being run, take it up with the administrator.

But until then, sit down, shut up, and do your job. I've been doing my job Croft growled I've been doing it for the past two and a half days I've barely slept I haven't showered I'm covered in blood

and I've watched two of my friends die because of this I watched you send them to that damn crematorium he said Your friends lied about being infected Dr. Mehan

Her voice a bitter growl that almost made me uneasy. I have asked time and time again, and there are still people lying about it. Because if anyone tells you the truth, they die. He replied, they're already dead. Meehan snapped. You've seen this firsthand. You have seen it. There's no cure for this.

There is nothing we can do, and if we don't maintain a strict quarantine, then we are going to be letting this parasite back into the world. You know this." Then why not use them? Someone else replied. Let them take care of these people, so we don't have to risk our necks. Let them handle this so we can go home. of us could be infected at this point.

Dr. Meehan replied, any of us could be infected and we would have no idea. We have maintained a limited number of staff in Ward 5 since yesterday. We won't know who is safe and who isn't until the parasite has run its course after we've stopped seeing symptoms. That is when the quarantine ends, so do not whine to me about this Situation, this is what we need to do. I don't want to be here any more than you do, but we have a responsibility. So grow up, do your job, and...

Just then, Croft lunged for Dr. Mehan, hitting her in the face and sending her to the ground. He tried to pounce on her, trying to kick her in the ribs, but several people pulled them off. while they did a few others went for dr mehan one of them grabbed her by her coat and ripped a key card away from her i'm not doing this anymore i heard one pant i'm kidding the hell out of here and they took off and three others followed them no mehan cried before getting up to try and chase them The three were running down the hall towards me, and I could see the one with a key card, had bloodshot eyes. He was sick, and I didn't think. I moved to stop him, grabbing the one with a key card by the sleeve as he passed me.

He whirled around, eyes intense and glaring as he struggled to get free. I want to go home. He snarled before pulling out of my grasp. Dr. Meehan reached us just as he got free and grabbed him, desperately trying to wrestle her keycard back. You'll contaminate the entire clinic, you selfish idiot, she said. His friends tried to pull him away from her, but Dr. Meehan was fighting way too hard.

I could see an unfamiliar, your fury in her eyes as she drew back a fist and sucker punched him right in the throat. His grip on the key card slipped, and Dr. Meehan collapsed backward. The idiot who'd stolen the key card wretched before vomiting all over the floor. It splashed on the shoes of his friends and onto Dr. Meehan. I could see the worms writhing. in the puddle he left behind. His knees buckled as he collapsed to the ground. His eyes wide and horrified. No. No, no, I'm not. I'm going to go home. I'm going home. His buddy scrambled

away from him, and Dr. Mehan hastily tried to do the same. But she was already too late. twisting worms covered in blood clung to her coat. I could see the terror in her eyes as she tried desperately to swat them away from her, but she couldn't get them all. I heard her hiss in pain as it bit into her. I heard her panic as they dug into her chest, her arms and her neck. No. Her voice was cracked and panicked. She almost sounded as if she was finally about to break, finally about to cry. And I couldn't do anything but watch as the worms dug into her body, and she lay there terrified.

She looked at the man who'd taken her key card with wide, mortified eyes. She didn't say a word. to him. His buddies dragged him off, leaving us alone, and I saw Croft leaving with them. Dr. Mehan sat silent for a moment. She looked back towards the staff who'd been watching her argument with Croft. None of them said a word to her. Slowly, she stood on trembling legs. She closed her eyes, trying to steal herself for what was coming next. Before finally, she took off down the hall toward one of the less crowded patient rooms. And I was the only one who followed her. She'd sunk down under one of the beds when I found her.

Her skin had gone a shade paler, and she still had a faraway shell-shocked looking her eye. Dr. Meehan? I asked quietly. She didn't even look at me. Sylvia? Her head moved slightly. Get out of here, Curry, she said. I didn't move.

Just, just leave me be. Is there anything I can get for you? I asked. It seemed like such an asinine question. I knew that there was nothing I could offer that could help with her current situation. And she knew that too. Still, she answered me, 50 milligrams of propofal and 150 milligrams of atricurium, an overdose of a sedative and a paralytic agent.

I didn't need to do the math to figure out what she wanted. I'm already dead, Jamie, she said, looking over at me. She'd never used my first name before. This is what's necessary. It's what's necessary for the others. And it's what's necessary for me. Give me the drugs. And send me to the crematorium.

Let me just... Let me just get it over with. I don't want to sit here waiting for the end. Let me just get it over with. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her response, before giving a slow nod. All right. I finally said.

I left her for a moment and quietly gathered up the supply she'd asked for. A few minutes later, I returned to her with two syringes. She removed her PPE and left her key card on the table. She sat, dead-eyed on the hospital. bed, staring at the corpse in the bed across from her. I set the needles beside her, and she didn't even look at them. She just wordlessly passed her key card over to me. Keep this close, she said softly.

Someone else might try to take it. And if they succeed, enact a mass sterilization, it should. It should stop them before security has to. Try to be in one of the quarantine rooms before it triggers, she said. But you should be given that to whoever the administrator appoints to take over. I said. Curry, the administrator couldn't pour water out of a boot if you wrote the instructions on the soul. And besides, they aren't here. They aren't equipped to know who should. should be taking over. I am. You understand the severity of this situation. You will make the right choices.

Take it. She put the key card in my lap, and I quietly pocketed it. Dr. Meehan let out a weary sigh before reaching into her pocket to take out her cell phone. I suppose I should call my husband, shouldn't I? She asked. You should go, Curry. And do what? I asked. Your job. We have patience out there. I'm with one right now. I said. And she gave me an unimpressed side eye, but the venom faded slightly. She sighed. Before looking away from me, to make her call, I sat there quietly as she said her goodbyes. And when she was done, I helped her inject the needles. And I stayed until she drifted away.

And when she was gone, I left her for the other nurses to take to the crematorium. I never saw them take her. Two hours later, when I walked past her room, she was just gone. Eighty-seven hours after Artie had come in. The last of the patients we had in quarantine passed away. Nine hours after that, the last of the staff we put in quarantine were dead. There was no miracle cure, no moment of triumph, no turning of the tide. Just a slow ticking of the clock marked by death after death after death.

We made it out, though. We made it out through attrition, just as Dr. Meehan always said we would. We had 35 people working in Ward 5 when the quarantine was put in place. There were 12 of us left when we finally sealed ourselves in the quarantine rooms. During the four days since Artie had arrived, we'd had 344 patients. Only about 37 of them were found

to have no sign of infection. We remained in quarantine for the mandatory 48 hours after the final death, and during that time, the administrator enacted a mass sterilization to ensure that none of the worms remained alive. And when quarantine finally lifted, those of us who had survived, shuffled out into the clinic, dead-eyed and hollow, moving more like walking corpses than living people.

The only one I saw who didn't look like he'd been through a living hell was Artie, who was being wheeled into another wing. He'd managed to revert out of his wolf form and was looking at the empty expressions on her faces with a quiet concern. I think I heard him mutter under his breath. Wow. That damn takeout food. Before he was taken away.

At least we'd had one survivor. That was a small. comfort to me after everything we'd endured. But it was a comfort. We left mostly without goodbyes, although Sasha and I lingered together for a while. We didn't talk about the events of the past week. Honestly, we barely talked at all. We just sort of sat together in a small restaurant attached to the main hospital, watching people go by. We didn't actually touch the story. We didn't actually touch the small meals we'd ordered. Neither of us had much of an appetite. I still have nightmares about being back in Ward 5. I have nightmares about worms, about bodies

splitting open and people vomiting up blood. Ardi's panicked terror, Samara's crying as she died. Dr. Leroy's screams as he was dragged off to the cremator. and the stink of burning human flesh. All of it, it's burned into my mind and I'll never forget it. I put in a request for a transfer to another department two weeks after the quarantine incident. I decided that my skill set might be better used in research. I got the idea from Sasha.

She's putting in the same request. Maybe if we're lucky. We'll get to work together. And at least I won't be in that clinic anymore. I won't have to go to work every day, dreading the moment where another R-D walks through the door and they announce another code line, and they drag me back to hell.

I can't do it a second time. I can't. I know that we do what we have to do. We don't have to like it, but we do have to live with it. And I have enough to live with right now.