The Wyrms of &alon

I frowned. “Dead?” My whole face tensed.

She let go of my hand and nodded tremulously. “I’m a corpse.”

My tongue thickened in my mouth. This…

I was before the Sword, now. My many years’ expertise felt inadequate. I was in uncharted territory.

I decided to let her take the lead.

“When did you first realize you had died?” I asked. “And how did you know? What’s it like to have died?”

She looked in my direction, but not at me. “I first noticed it yesterday afternoon, while I was preparing a cider casserole. My left arm.”

“Your arm?”

She nodded hesitantly. “Yes. It came from out of nowhere. I didn’t need to think twice to know something was wrong—terribly, terribly wrong.”

“What was wrong, Merritt?”

“It was dead, Genneth. My arm was… dead. It wasn’t me any longer, just a chunk of flesh. At first, I thought I was going mad.”

“At first? What changed your mind?”

“I felt it move—the death.”

With a finger, she traced a line left to right across her collarbone. “It was insidious. It spread slowly, but steadily. It kept me up all night. I laid in bed, staring at the dark, too distressed to even pretend to sleep. But how could I? Deadness marched along the underside of my skin. March march marching. I could feel it. I felt it touch my heart. My heart died. My organs melted. Even now, they’re still melting. I don’t know if my body has any blood in it anymore, Genneth… and I’ve been too scared to check.”

So it’s a psychosomatic delusion. The mother of all psychosomatic delusions.

“Merritt… do you still have a pulse?”

She nodded.

“Well, doesn’t that mean you are still alive?” My voice cracked. Even with all that I’d seen, I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

Merritt pressed her hand to her chest. “I know the heart inside this body is still beating—but… it’s dead. It’s not mine. It’s… it’s a zombie, like in the movies.” Suddenly, realization struck her. Her face tightened. “I must be a zombie.” Her words began to quicken. “No… no, that—that means I’m contagious. I’ll bite. It will spread and spread and the world will end and we’ll—”

“—Breathe, Merritt, breathe,” I said, reaching out to grab her hands. I was gentle, but firm.

“Genneth… I…”

I swallowed hard. “Focus on my words.”

She nodded fearfully. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.

Even when convinced she was a corpse, she’d still taken the time to put on her usual coat of subtle makeup.

Merritt was far stronger of a soul than she realized.

“Did you eat breakfast?” I asked.

She lowered her gaze. “No.”

“Merritt, Why wouldn’t you eat? I’d wait for hours in a line if it meant getting some of your famous casseroles at the end.”

For a split second, I caught her starting to smile, but then it fractured into misery.

“A zombie shouldn’t eat, Dr. Howle. I’m cursed. Eating will just feed the curse.” She cried softly. “I don’t want the world to end,” she whispered.

“What? Cursed?”

Merritt nodded. “I’ve been cursed. My death is just the beginning. I’ve been condemned to perdition, Genneth. And by my own hand.”

Perdition? Where did that come from?

The Elbocks hardly ever brought up matters of religion.

“What do you mean, by your own hand?” I asked.

Again, she averted her eyes as she answered me.

“The night before I died… a—a demon came to me in my sleep. I couldn’t see her; she was so far away. She was in the darkness, somewhere deep . But I heard her. She was quieter than a whisper, but I heard her.”

“And what did you hear?”

Merritt looked around the room, as if someone was watching, and then, when she was confident she wasn’t, she turned to me and whispered:

“The demon said I was going to become a boat.” Merritt’s lips quivered. “I just stood there. I didn’t even argue. And by that time the following night, I was dead.”

At this point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if my head had gone and rolled off my shoulders. What in the world could have plunged Mrs. Elbock into so deep of a delusional state? I strained to think of anything that might have counted as a warning sign, but came up empty. It made no sense.

“Why haven’t you told your husband about this?” I asked. “You tell each other everything.”

She brought her hands to her face and began to sob. “I’m afraid of what will happen. Terribly afraid.” She wrapped her arms around herself, clutching at her green coat. “I have this feeling that I’m at the edge of a pit, deep and dark. We’re all going to fall in, and when we do, we’ll never come out. It’s only a matter of time.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, her face frozen in a thousand-yard stare.

“I don’t want the demon to take Storn from me, Genneth. But she’s going to. We’re all going to die. We’re going to fall asleep and never wake up. I know it, I just know it. And as long as I’m here, it’s going to get worse.” She looked me in the eyes. “I don’t want to see it, Genneth. I couldn’t bear to see it.” Her jaw went slack. “W-What if Storn saw me now, the way I am? I’m not his wife any more.”

Merritt glanced down to her purse on the floor and started to reach for it. That was where she kept her pocket mirror, to tidy up if and when anything ever fell out of place. Her fingers hovered above the purse’s clasp for a moment, but then jerked away.

I had to fight back tears of my own. “Merritt, you—”

“—Genneth.”

Mrs. Elbock looked me in the eyes, one last time.

“That’s why I came to you. I knew you would… understand… what has to be done. You could do it so gently. You’ve always been gentle with me, Genneth.” She smiled. “So kind. Arton and Miselle talk about you and Pelbrum like you’re part of the family.”

Tears ran freely down her cheeks. She took a deep breath.

“Please, Dr. Howle… I need you to kill me. Kill this body. Finish the death. Keep it from killing others, quickly, before it is too late.” She clutched her hands to her chest. “You must have something—just put it into a syringe. I know you can make it gentle. One last… prescription…”

I knew I wasn’t supposed to react. I knew it was important to remain calm, to keep from accidentally feeding my patients stimuli that might cause an adverse reaction. But this… this was a nightmare. I stood up from my stool, and stepped back.

“No—please, Genneth, don’t leave me.” Merritt shook her head. I need your help. I need you to save me; you’re the only one left. God won’t save me. And I can’t do it myself—I’ll fail. I’ll… I’ll make it hurt.”

Sitting there, up on the examination bed, Merritt was a porcelain statuette—the very picture of fragility. But here she was, asking me to smash her to pieces. I wanted to reach out, and embrace her, and tell her that everything would be okay. But that would be a lie, and I was afraid a lie would shatter her.

I’d been defeated. I was helpless in the face of the problem before me.

I hated being helpless. Too many never agains. Too much broken glass. That there were so many good memories scattered among the shards just made it that much more painful.

More than just my patient, and more than just a neighbor, Merritt was my friend, as was her husband. The day Pelbrum and I first moved into the house, Mrs. Elbock was already there, waiting in anticipation with a fresh-baked fruitcake in her hands. Our children looked up to hers like older siblings. Whenever school threw a project our way, they banded together, tried their best, and then gave up and got Storn and I to finish it for them. My kids had the best darn dioramas this side of the Riscolts, let me tell you! The Elbocks would watch over the kids when Pel and I wanted to go for a night out in town. And when Rale died, they—

—But I cut off that thought with a shudder.

I racked my thoughts for something—anything—that might help Merritt, anything that I could do to render unto this tender harp-string even an iota of the kindness she’d shown to me, my wife, and my children over the many years. But those thoughts only dredged up more helplessness. I had to stop, or I’d drown.

Merritt was chained to her tormentors. There was no escaping that fact. They were woven into the very fabric of her mind.

Then, in the middle of the tumult, it came to me.

I knew what I had to do.

I took a deep breath. “Alright, Merritt, I’ll do it.”

She stiffened.

Walking over to the cabinet, I pulled out a pair of grape-scented purple latex gloves from the dispenser up top, slid them on, and then opened the drawer down below where the syringes lay on a dry paper lining, arranged in an orderly row. I took one and set it on the counter.

All that remained was the weapon itself.

Opening the cabinet revealed rows of dark plastic containers standing ominously on wooden shelves. I didn’t need to look; I already knew where it was—the Noxtifell.

I hated it. I hated that drug. By law, every patient room had to have a supply of it on hand at all times, and I hated that too, even if I could look through abstract logic’s mechanical eyes and understand the wisdom behind that policy, especially with regard to the treatment of the mentally ill. Drugs were supposed to be agents of healing. Pharmacies were sacred grounds. They were the miracles our ancestors had so desperately prayed for.

But not Noxtifell.

Noxtifell’s purpose wasn’t the conquest of illness. It was a backdoor exit, and a cowardly one at that. To resort to Noxtifell meant you’d admitted defeat, and had abandoned the struggle to find a way to help and heal someone who was suffering. Now, here I was, taking that same backdoor exit, and I hated that.

But I hated helplessness far, far more. It was my demon—my tormentor, and guilt was its deputy. I’d promised Dana to hate as little as I could, but… helplessness had long since driven me to break that promise.

I stared at my gloved hands.

Just look at me now. Here I am, breaking my promise all over again.

I reached for an ampule of Noxtifell, adult dosage. The syringe’s needle slid effortlessly through the thin plastic seal. After raising the plunger and pulling out the syringe, I tapped near the tip of the needle and then pushed down on the plunger ever so slightly, to get rid of any remaining air bubbles.

Slowly, I turned to face Mrs. Elbock.

“Are you ready?”

“Thank you!” She nodded profusely. “Thank you!”

Walking up beside her, I sat down on my stool. “Tilt your head to the side, please.”

Merritt smiled one last time. “I knew you’d save me, Genneth Howle. You’ll save everyone.”

I had to fight to keep my emotions under control. Keeping calm was non-negotiable here—and not just for Mrs. Elbock’s sake.

I slid the needle into her jugular vein and pushed the plunger—but gently, always gently. I pulled it out quickly. In but an instant, her eyes began to flutter. She swayed, unsteady, holding her head in her hand. I readied my arm.

Her eyelids fluttered “I feel…”

She swooned.

I caught her in my arm as she passed out, her consciousness stolen away by the sedative. Carefully, I laid her down on the recliner, and then folded her gloves and took her beret and placed them all beside her.

“Merritt, please forgive me.”

No, I told myself. She won’t need to. Not if I can help her.

My smile and lucky bow-tie had to count for something, even if it was little more than a figurative ray of sunshine hoping to pierce the gloom.

I walked over to the console and swiped my hand over the scanner, letting it read the chip embedded in my skin to remind it of who I was and that all the appropriate permissions were in order. I could have issued the request right then and there, but I hesitated. It would have been like accepting a stain.

And I didn’t want that.

I dialed for Tira.

“Doctor…?”

I sighed. “I gave Mrs. Elbock a full dose of Noxtifell. She’ll be unconscious for several hours. Call some orderlies and have her taken to suicide watch. Tell them to keep me updated as to her status.”

“Of course.” She reached for the coms on her end. “Should I have them place one of theirs on it?”

“No. I’ll keep the case under my wing, for now. I need to spend some time with this one. It’s not going to be easy, but I have to try. I owe her that much. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be at the Psych Library.”

“What should I do about your other appointments for the day? Should I go ahead and—”

“—No. When it’s time, just ring the library, and my console.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

And I meant it.