antiheroed
in
damned
Night 57: Infirmary
[ from here]For as direct as they were being, Riku understood how much of this section of Landel's remained unexplored. They were so focused on acquiring the drug that it hadn't occurred to them to stop-or, if it had, it was a thought stopped by his frustration with his partner for the night. To think he pushed off some old man because he thought he
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"Shit, Zack, what did I tell you about dying on me?" she muttered, her hands clenching in the sheets beside him. She had no idea what to do. How did you counter a drug when you didn't even know what the drug was? But dammit, she was in an infirmary, there had to be something.
"Stay here," she ordered him, worry making her tone a little sharp, her brain not really remembering that he was unlikely to go anywhere in his current condition. There was a small table beside the bed and she crouched, going through the drawer with no luck. Nothing useful. She got up, moving to the table with the assorted drugs once more, but there was nothing there that gave any indication of what any of them held, and she couldn't risk giving him a second one in hopes that it might counter whatever it was. With her luck, it would just double whatever was happening.
Dammit, she should have told him no...
Her flashlight beam skipped around the room, but it only held more beds and small tables beside them, likely holding the same useless supplies as the one she'd already checked. There was nothing useful in here.
She cursed under her breath again, fighting down a sudden surge of anxiety that she blame entirely on the man on the bed and not on the way the room suddenly seemed to be closing in on her, the shadows thickening the moment her light left them. She ignored the tingle at the back of her neck, the fear of eyes watching her, when she knew the room was empty. There were more important things than her own paranoia at the moment, despite the way it seemed harder to ignore the longer they stayed in this room.
Rose turned back to the bed, and Zack. "There's nothing useful in this room," she spoke to him, reaching out. She didn't know where it hurt, or how she could help, so her fingers brushed over his arm, an uncertain motion of comfort that she knew would do little good. "I don't know what to do for you, Zack. Should I go search the other rooms?" She didn't entirely expect an answer, but she felt very helpless at the moment, and nothing frustrated her more than that.
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He wanted to tell her so many things: that he'd be okay, that there was no way he was dying, that he was sorry he was putting her through this. Instead, he only winced his eyes shut as a thin layer of sweat started to form at his forehead. He clenched his fists, but something seemed wrong; the pain from his hands extended outward, and suddenly it was obvious that he was changing.
Into what? Was he going to sprout wings like Angeal or lose all of his color like Genesis? Was he going to go crazy like Sephiroth? Zack sucked in breaths, trying to remain calm even though there was no way that he could.
Rose came back soon after that and put a hand on his arm, something he took as a comfort. Still, he shook his head at her again and finally forced words out around a mouth that was suddenly gaining more teeth; sharpened teeth. "I don't think... anything you find... would be of much help--!" He ended the sentence with a groan as his back arched. It was as if his bones were rearranging themselves, and yet he had no idea what the end result would be. That was what frightened him the most.
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"Zack... what..." she whispered out, shock mixing with fear as he convulsed again. She had no idea what was happening to him. Would drugs do this? Though she'd never seen anything so strange, so horrible in all her life, one word kept echoing in terror in the back of her mind as she stared at his teeth. The only explanation she could come up with for the changes she could visibly see in front of her.
Werewolf. Werewolf.
Was it full moon? Was this something he was or was this only because of the drugs? And what the hell was she going to do now?
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He didn't know if he could bear to look Rose in the eye at this point because this had to be terrifying to watch, and so all he could do was hope that she kept her distance. He was still there, in his head -- there was nothing taking over, and he had no intentions of lashing out, but...
As if what was happening could have been questioned at this point, any doubt was chased away when a thick fur started growing, showing mainly on his arms and face; the rest of his body was still covered, though he didn't know how long that would last. If he was changing this much, before long the uniform he was wearing would end up in tatters.
He was only vaguely aware of all of these things, though, since his bones were still shifting around into a completely different pattern, causing him to yell out in pain with more and more frequency. He just hoped that his screaming didn't attract more people into the room...
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Except that didn't make things better at all.
His screams now bounced off the shadowy walls around her, disembodied and echoing. While the room was pitch black, her eyesight still allowed her to see the form of shapes and objects, faint outlines in the deep blackness that surrounded her. She crashed into the bed behind her, her retreat abruptly cut off, and she crouched down in the darkness, as if the smaller she made herself, the sooner this would all end.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," she hissed out, her voice breaking as her hand scrambled around on the floor, searching desperately for her flashlight once more. Where had it rolled to? She distracted herself in the frantic search for it, all the while aware that the longer she crouched in the dark, the more her instincts were screaming for her to run.
There was something wrong with this darkness. There was something watching her.
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Rose was still there, but everything was dark now. That didn't bother him as much as it should have -- in fact, he thought he could see better than he should be able to, which was not reassuring in this case. It was just one more sign that he was becoming less and less human.
She was scared, and he knew it. He could smell it on her, and that disgusted him.
He tried to speak even through the pain, but no words came out. Instead, he made a noise that sounded more like... like a bark. His vocal cords had to be gone and now all he could make were beastly noises. His arm still had enough joints that he could reach up and feel his face, but it was no longer flat -- no, part of it jutted out and with a clawed finger he could feel a row of fangs in his mouth.
Half-changed now, he had no idea how terrifying he looked, but he couldn't even do anything to reassure the girl in front of him, and so he tried to stay still, to let whatever was happening run its course.
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The light flickered. On. Off. On. Again. Finally, what seemed like an eternity later, the beam steadied, strengthened. She inhaled a deep gulp of air in relief, the sound half-sob as she fumbled to get her bearings once more.
The light illuminated the form on the bed once more, and again, she was caught between the horror of seeing what was really there and the intense desire to look away from the scene. A half-formed cry slipped unconsciously past her lips as she struggled to make sense of what she was seeing, how much had changed in those long moments of darkness. Zack was barely recognizable anymore, barely human, caught somewhere between his own form and that of some huge canine. Although every second that ticked excruciatingly past brought him closer and closer to losing his human form entirely.
It was a nightmare straight out of one of those old horror movies Trevor had been so fond of, but with far more detail than they'd ever been able to pick up with a camera. She could smell him, the scent of fur and blood and death and rot, a combination that shouldn't be here, shouldn't match up to what was in front of her, but was there all the same. She clutched a fist over her lips and nose, trying to block out some of the smell from her oversensitive senses. The sounds coming from him were no longer remotely human and they sent chills down her spine as she slowly backed away, her wide gaze locked on him, afraid that if she looked away, something worse might happen.
Her instincts were screaming at her to find a way out of here, to not let herself be trapped in a room with him. She'd been through this once before and it had ended badly. But even as her terror beat at her, making her mouth dry and the beam of light tremble as her hand shook, she couldn't bring herself to move, to tear her eyes away from Zack's changing form. She was frozen, unable to do anything but watch.
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But he was more than just a dog, and somehow he knew that too. He was too big to be a normal animal and he could see the fur on his front legs (not arms, anymore) and how it was only there in patches, with bones and raw flesh showing through. Somehow, that didn't hurt, and as he slowly pulled himself up from the laying position onto all four legs, he realized that the change was over.
His head darted around, his ears -- which were at the top of his head now -- perking up as he took in his surroundings with a new perspective. Zack really didn't know what to think. He was relieved that the pain was finally gone, but he'd literally just turned into some sort of dog-like monster, the likes of which tormented patients every night.
He would just have to focus on how relieved he was to still be aware of himself. He wouldn't have forgiven himself if he'd woken up in the morning, human again and with the realization that he'd tried to attack Rose. Not that it was even a guarantee that he'd change back in the first place, but he wasn't going to think about the alternative right now. He couldn't.
Speaking of Rose, she was crowded in the corner, staring right at him and clutching her flashlight. The light coming from it seemed far too bright to his nocturnal eyes, and he shied away from it at first. Still, he needed to make her aware that he was still him, that he wasn't going to hurt her. He jumped off of the bed, staring at her with what he hoped was clarity in his canine eyes.
Slowly, carefully, he padded toward her.
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And then he was on the floor, nails tapping on the tiled floor as his shaggy head turned in her direction.
Shit. He was looking right at her.
Later she would be embarrassed about the yelp that escaped her lips as she scrambled to her feet, darting backwards and stumbling over the end of the bed behind her as she moved to keep something between her and him - it? - before he prowled even closer. She kept the light trained on him, too terrified to not know where he was at all times, as her mind raced with half-formed plans of escape.
"Z-zack?" she called out, not caring that her voice wavered, almost broke. She was talking to a dog. A giant rotting dog that a few moments before had been a very normal looking human. She was allowed to be freaking out right now, and anyone who said differently could bite her.
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Not to mention that light was really hard for him to look at straight on. It was something to keep in mind if he was ever human again and was attacked by one of these dog things; a light pointed right at them would make it hard for them to attack.
With a flick of his tail (he'd only half-realized it was there before now, but he could tell that it was only barely hanging on to this decaying body), he glanced back over as she called his name, quickly moving his head up and down to indicate that he understood her.
He moved closer still because even if he probably looked like the stuff of nightmares, she would probably calm down as she got a proper look at him and realized that despite his appearance, he wasn't going to hurt her. He hoped it work that way, anyway. Getting smacked on the snout with that flashlight would really hurt.
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"Shit," she exhaled, still clutching her flashlight as if her life depended on it. (At the moment, it sort of felt like that.) "Shit, Zack. You can understand me still? Are you... are you alright?"
That was a stupid question. Of course he wasn't alright. He was a rotting dog, for god's sake.
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The second thing that Rose asked wasn't one that could be answered so easily. Zack was doing a pretty good job of holding himself together despite what had just happened (and how could one drug even do that?), but saying that he was doing well would be a lie.
So he attempted a shrug, not sure if these muscles worked the same as what he was used to. Hopefully the sentiment came across either way.
He would have drawn closer and tried to nudge his snout under her hand as some sort of comfort, but considering that he was half-rotted? He was guessing that would just gross Rose out. No, it was better if he kept at least three feet between them at this point.
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"I take it... this doesn't... normally happen to you?" she asked, needing to clarify that. She really hoped this was just the drugs and not a monthly condition. If he really was a werewolf, she was going to need a whole lot more than three feet between them to feel safe. No matter how friendly he seemed at the moment. Either way, it was a bad situation, but considering her Achilles heel at the moment, there were vast levels of bad to be considered here.
Although whatever they were going to do, they'd have to figure it out soon. With one potential crisis no longer distracting her, that sensation that she was being watched was beginning to creep up on her again, niggling her senses. Movement, just out of the corner of her eye, had her gaze flicking to the sides, only to find nothing there.
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That wasn't something he could know for sure until tomorrow night rolled around, though, and right now he could really only concern himself with the present moment. He shook his head a few times to make sure that the message got across and then started to consider their options.
They could just stay here until morning came, but he was sure that more patients would end up coming here to get their own share of the drugs. He almost wanted to warn them away by using himself as an example, but that would leave it as Rose's responsibility to explain. He also had to consider the possibility that a patient might attack him without even asking questions, but would there be less chance of that if they stuck around here or went wandering the rest of the med wing?
He was just going to have to try and get Rose's opinion on it. Glancing at her with his dark eyes, he used a paw to first tap the ground that he was standing on and then picked his paw up and extended it toward the door. After that, he tilted his head, trying to ask her what she preferred... if she was even able to follow his thought process.
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"Yes," she stated succinctly, glancing towards the door before casting a wary look around her once more. No matter how much she tried, whatever was flickering in and out of sight at the very edges of her vision was never there when she looked straight at it. The edginess was making her skin crawl.
"Yes," she said again, getting to her feet, the beam focused on the floor as she straightened, one hand clenched into a fist at her side. "We should go. There's something... not right about this room."
And if there really was something in here that could hide from her other senses, she didn't want to wait around and see what else it was capable of.
"Let's go," she murmured softly, casting one more uneasy glance around her, pleased when her voice didn't shake. Still clutching the flashlight tightly, she hurried across the infirmary once more, heading for the door. She'd be fine, as long as they got out of this room.
[ To here.]
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