Forcing herself to her feet, she followed the sound to itssource. She weaved her way through opened cage doors and an area where the roofhad collapsed. Darting between wards, from quarantine, to trauma, to biohazard,she found herself approaching the front entrance. It took a moment before sherealized the scream originated from the last thing she expected.
The living.
* * *
“You know we’re not supposed to be in this part of the city,right?” asked a girl with bright pink hair. Each word sounded lyrical, as if atany moment she may burst into song. Tabitha ignored the volume, insteadfocusing on the faces of the girls. The duo almost looked awkward withoutglowing blue skin.
“Rena,” said the red headed girl with a backpack slung over hershoulder, “it’ll be fine, guards are busy patrolling the north side of thecity.”
The nervous one hung her head, making the sign of the cross onher chest. “Those poor passengers. Do you think the bullet train will runagain?”
“Forget that, what about the food? People are going to starve ifwe can’t get supplies from Chicago.”
Tabitha noted that Rena’s eyes were sunken, her face almostskeletal. The other girl was similar, each of them appearing underfed. Thewitch leaned forward, captivated by the green of the redhead’s eyes. Despitethe emaciation, the girl still had an alluring quality about her.
The redhead stood apart from her friend, the alpha of thisfriendship. The pink-haired girl – Rena – wore loose fitting t-shirts andripped jeans. She appeared even thinner in the billowing shirt. The redheadhowever, wearing black gloves, a spiked collar and decorated with a lip, noseand eyebrow ring seemed like she belonged here.
Rena twisted a metal tube in her hand. Light spilled into thelobby, flickering several times. The room returned to its near pitch-blackstate.
“Ugh, Abigail, it did it again.” said Rena, “This is a youthing.”
The world never grew perfectly dark for Tabitha. Even in thebowels of the hospital, she found herself able to detect her surroundings. Shenever questioned if it was a trait of the afterlife or of being a witch. For amoment, the room rippled like a pebble dropped in a pond. It had been foreversince she experienced a person manipulating the tiny threads that made upreality.
“Fiat lux,” breathed Abigail as she held her palm upright in theair.
Due to the perpetual blue monotone of the afterlife, Tabithabasked in the warmth of the lines wrapping around the young girl’s arm. Pushingup through her skin, the light ran down her limb like veins until it collectedin her hand. The yellow grew brighter until the shadows found themselvesoutmatched.
A fledgling witch.
Blowing calmly into her hand, the brilliant orb rose into theair, hovering a foot above her head. Tabitha waited for the friend to gasp, oreven shriek at the magic, but she barely paid attention to Abigail, insteadinspecting the broken surroundings of the hospital. Tabitha recalled in heryouth hiding these gifts. Later in life they placed her on the fringes of thelower class. The new world, consumed with famine, plague, even demons, neededmagic, but magic never bought her acceptance or respect.
“You sure you want to do this?” Rena’s voice held an edge ofworry, not entirely sold on being in an abandoned hospital on the bad side oftown at night. Tabitha wondered what could have brought them here? What couldpossibly be so dire these two would journey through this purgatory?
“You don’t have to do this.” Rena offered a way out if needed.“Seriously, couldn’t we do this in your bedroom? Why the hell--”
“Tonight ends the waxing moon. My magic is stronger. Besides,this is where everybody used to go when they were sick. There must be thousandsof ghosts roaming these halls, one of them must know her.”
By the way Rena slumped her shoulders, it was obvious she didn’tlike the answer. Abigail continued through double doors and into the hallwayleading to the meat of the building. The other followed close behind while thesmall glowing orb hovered just out of arm’s reach above them.
Ghosts wandered the halls. The people froze as the two girlspassed. None of the dead took notice of the duo, instead turning their gazeupward, captivated by the shimmering light. Tabitha realized that while thegirls were invisible to the ghosts of mundanes, whatever magic Abigail conjuredexisted in both worlds. With no voice to ask, the elder witch was left withmore questions than answers.
“This place is amazing,” Abigail said.
“Of course you’d find it amazing,” Rena remarked.
“You don’t? I mean, before the war, it must have been filledwith people. What do you think happened?”
“They died,” Rena chimed in.
“But what about the nurses and doctors?”
“Them too,” Rena added. “The plague didn’t care if they werepatients or doctors. It consumed them all.”
Tabitha remembered the war as she touched the scar stretchingbicep to forearm that once held her bioware. Magic, real magic had started toflow again. Mankind expected it to be a time of wonderment but it came with aninfection. Demons. Creatures emerged from the bowels of the biggest cities,devouring, infecting, turning. Tabitha thanked the deities she made it to theafterlife never seeing one of those dog-faced soul suckers.
Abigail pushed at the swinging door to the auditorium. The doorcreaked open, freezing in place, unwilling to swing shut again. Rena paused,hesitant to enter the space. While she eyed the path, a dozen ghosts closed in,crowding her in the doorway. The teenager didn’t react to the dead passing by,brushing against her skin. The girl started in a light trot to catch up to herfriend, appearing as if she was swept away by the growing number of ghosts.
Inside the auditorium the two took in the massive room. Withfurniture hurled against walls and windows with rock sized holes, the spacefelt abused and
