“I’m scared,” she said.
Chi nodded solemnly.
“I’m glad you said that,” she said. “I am too. My first thought when this all happened was to go home, but this thing is global. There’s nowhere we can hide. What are we going to do?”
Ida recalled the resolve in Frederich’s face as he prepared to go after Vidrik, knowing he might be walking toward certain death.
“We’re going to be brave,” she said, sitting up in her chair. “We’ve got no other choice.”
22
Frederich’s pulse had slowed to a mild, muffled drum beat. The drug-induced lethargy had sapped him of his vigour, leaving his body limp and impotent. He forced his dense eyelids open and saw her again, standing next to a male doctor while pointing at a clipboard and signalling toward the door. She spoke quickly, her voice only a quiet mumble to Frederich, while the other doctor nodded earnestly before pushing the clipboard under his arm and leaving the room.
She stood thinking for a moment, draped in her white coat. She was a firm-bodied woman in her late fifties with greying brown hair tied into a bun. The way she stood there with steady conviction gave away her high position in the hospital. The defiant weariness in her face showed that she took her job seriously. Her attention suddenly turned to Frederich. She strode toward him then looked down with narrowed, curious eyes. He tried to speak but struggled to find the willpower. Voices approached from outside, and her head turned quickly toward the doorway. Without hesitating she reached over and promptly picked up a syringe and bottle. She was efficient, seamlessly drawing in the liquid and checking for air pockets as though she had done it a thousand times before. Frederich knew what was about to happen.
“No,” he croaked, not wanting to go under again.
She turned her ear toward the door, her eyes lighting up.
“Please,” he said, managing to find his voice. “Don’t—”
The injection spread through his veins, neutralising any resistance he had been able to conjure. The intensity of the fluorescent light above grew blinding, and the doctor’s face became a blur.
“Close your eyes,” she said, gently placing her hand over his face.
A shadow appeared at the door, and a muffled conversation broke out as Frederich’s eyelids fell shut. The pressure of the bed dissolved from beneath him while he lost all feeling. He entered a trance-like state, barely able to cling to consciousness. Then came the flashbacks from the other night in Bromley. He felt Pistol’s body pressing up against his before it tumbled to the ground. Dikka’s bulging eyes gaped at him, begging him not to attack. Faust’s punches came his way, and his body convulsed trying to dodge them. Vent’s grunting reverberated while he made his final gasp with his throat bloodied. The four men then wheezed collectively, united in death, their voices filling the black space before silence returned. Frederich welcomed it as he sunk deeper into the bed, until he became suspended in emptiness.
The image of the doctor’s earthy, weathered face emerged, with wrinkles running across her forehead and her cheeks sagging at the side. Frederich’s only remaining connection to his body was a dull ache in his chest. He felt drawn to the source of pain coming through the ache. At first the thought of going in there horrified him, until he returned his attention to her face. He knew at that moment that she had seen it all. He had no idea where that knowledge came from. He simply knew it to be true. Ages of suffering were imprinted on her face. Her eyes were steady, full of grief, but also gentle and kind. Her gaze was enough to reassure him to go inside. She smiled and nodded lightly, and he stopped resisting, allowing himself to drift until everything turned black.
Where am I? He floated effortlessly through the dark with nothing upon which to anchor himself. Immersed in the serenity which had flooded his consciousness, he descended a timeless, formless tunnel with a kind of ease he never thought possible. On he drifted, for what could have been hours, or mere seconds. He had no idea. He did not care. The tranquillity was everything, cuddling and nurturing him.
The shift away from the benevolent warmth was gradual — and ominous. A harsh chill began to seep in. No. He scrambled to go back, but had no way to influence the slow, unrelenting current. The emptiness no longer felt welcoming, but had transitioned into a cruel and caustic wilderness. Let me out! A huff of mist shot through the air. A rapidly escalating heartbeat pounded from a distance. Another huff blew by, then another, in time with her rasping breath. Her bulging eyes stared desperately at him as she crawled over the dirt, a stream of blood running down her forehead. He stood helpless in the distance, paralysed, conscious of every detail around him. The contours of the bark over the tree trunks, the icy breeze, the cooing of the birds, the moonlight reflecting off her knotted hair. His fingers trembled mercilessly while he maintained absolute eye contact with her. It was all he had to sustain him. If he looked away, it would be the end of him. The man’s shadow emerged over her — the one who did all of this — and her breathing halted, her eyes swelling like a rising sun, illuminated by terror.
“Run!” she shrieked, her scream sending shockwaves over the landscape.
He ceased to exist. All that remained of him
