TERROR IN THE HOUSE OF HEALING

BY: DB BOYD--copyright mashupublications/tigris productions

It was the horror…the sheer horror of everyday life that drew me to the health care field. Shotgun and chainsaw wounds, vehicle accidents, miscarriages, accidental dismemberment…the things normal people never see: these are the things that inspired me to work at my local hospital. Sure, it may be a strange reason. I've heard it enough from others. Some say its all the horror movies I watch affecting me, making me "sick in the head". Others say it's the occult activity I was involved in so many years ago, calling me a satanistic, blood-loving ghoul. Whatever the reason is…it boils down to this: I wanted to see; I wanted to know. But now…unfortunately, I do.

I have seen a lot in my years at the Valley Medical Center. You would be amazed at how much someone employed in registration, such as myself, could observe. Although, some of the things I have seen, I could easily do without: one incident in particular. An incident that I am not likely to ever forget. An incident that keeps me here in this horrid place.

I have been thoroughly interrogated by the police and the psychological experts from St. Blair Mental Institution. I laugh at the latter. No one could possibly accept the things I say transpired that night. They quickly dismissed my story as post-traumatic ravings. But I know otherwise. I know that IT exists: that unknown thing that waits in the tangled darkness of the Valley's lonesome woods. That stirs unseen in unlit caverns of unfathomable antiquity. The others who were with me that night, God above rest their souls, they also know.

Unfortunately, my memory has deteriorated somewhat since that night of unknown evil, due to the medications I have now been prescribed for my "dementia". I find it increasingly difficult to remember anything as the days go by. Damn these doctors and their drugs! However, maybe it's a blessing that my memory is being erased. Who on earth would want to retain such abhorrent memories? No sane individual could live with such knowledge. The knowledge of limitless races of inconceivable blasphemies that exist beyond the breath of mankind's feeble dimensions. But I must live with it, for I fear that they cannot take these unwanted revelations away. They can delete all they want from my brain, but I know I will never forget the screams and wails I heard that evening, for they surround me still: and recently I have seen a shadow move in the dark distances beyond the gates of St.Blair. So now I fear for my own God given life.

It was a Thursday night at the Valley Medical Center. The large flamboyant crown-shaped building sat alone on it's wooded hill with a waning horned moon above. The triple ring parking lot was fairly empty and the only sounds audible were the crickets and the interstate traffic in the distance. Inside it was pretty calm. A few of the "regulars" were there being seen for their miscellaneous ailments. College students came and got their morning after pills as usual and rednecks showed up with other strange and ridiculous injuries. The only interesting thing that came in all day was an eight-year-old child that had gotten kicked in the face by a horse.

Actually, it was right after that kid left that everything started. I was answering the switchboard when I heard a call on the scanner go out to the valley police: something about gunshots and a fire out in Floyd county. Sounded like some more rednecks having fun.

It wasn't till an hour later that I retracted that thought. Valley rescue squad was called out and they were on their way back from the Floyd scene. The radio hissed as the call came in from the squad to give report. But, what they had to report was something unlike anything I had ever heard:

Valley one to Valley Hospital…have dr. on standby…in route with an approximately thirty five year old of unknown sex found in wooded area…has sustained 2nd and 3rd degree burns to approximately 75% of body surface area…airway has been established with et tube with 100% O2…also has sustained shotgun wound to left upper quadrant…and gunshots to bilateral temporal regions…patient found supine…vitals extremely low, BP 30 palp…foreign object imbedded in chest…chest compressions impossible due to object…ETA twenty minutes, requesting gold alert………

Thinking back now, through this incredible mental haze, I can't believe the words that came over the radio. How could anyone still be alive after such an ordeal? Shotgun and pistol wounds, not to mention the burns and the foreign object, would have been enough to kill anyone. Everyone in that emergency room stood in silent awe casting unbelieving glances from person to person. We all shared the same thought. -There's no way they'll live. Why even try? -

Why try? Because it was our job. It was our duty to try and save this persons life: no matter how futile the effort may be. But looking back…I wish that we hadn't. I wish we had let that damnable thing alone to do what it was already doing…dying. This is one we should have left alone.

Samantha Hudson, a beautiful dark haired nurse of amazon build, gave orders to have trauma room sixteen ready for the patient. Joshua, Stacy, Gail and Lynda, the other nurses, went to the room and prepped it for the new arrival. Avoiding the boredom of waiting, I left the ER, going into the lobby to grab a cigarette before heading outside for the meantime.

I strolled outside, through those damn automatic lobby doors that always go on the fritz, and saw that Mike and Steve from the critical care unit were lounging about as always. I sat on the iron bench with them and talked for a while, burning time until the patient came. We spoke of normal, everyday things and had our laughs as usual, while smoking an unhealthy quantity of cigarettes. My brand of cigarettes was Basic light; they teased me about the quality thereof. It was during their picking when I heard the sirens. They were a good distance away, but the valley has a way of drawing in sounds from afar. I knew it would still be a while before they arrived.

Finally, after some time with my two friends, the sirens became louder and I could see the rescue squads strobes beginning to flash against the trees and hills around the campus. Putting out my cigarette, I began walking toward the medic bay on the south side of the glorious, hotel-like, facility. For some reason I always associated its appearance with a hotel. It was then that I noticed the evening fog beginning to roll in. Soft and gray it began to lay its delicate whiteness about the area. Tonight though, it came in thick and fast and despite its familiar beauty, I received a chill that reached deep inside and tickled the dark corners of my imagination. I shook off the chill and continued to walk toward the unloading bay, where the ER doc and four other nurses stood outside in anticipation of the new arrival. I casually joined them in waiting.

The truck, bearing the unknown victim, screeched around the outer ring of the driveway and came barreling through the parking lot to make an abrupt halt in front of us. The tires were smoking and the smell of smoldering rubber was almost enough to choke us, but when the back doors of the squad flew open and the unholy stench of burning flesh reached our nostrils, some of us couldn't help but gasp and gag. Poor me, the smell was too much…I lost it and up my dinner came.

Lynda came to my aid, but I quickly regained my composure without her assistance. I brushed her away and looked up to see two EMS workers clumsily stumbling out from the rear of the squad. One, I think his name was Kevin, experienced the same gut reaction as I had. The other coughed and wheezed while attempting to unload the steaming figure aboard the squad. Tim Johnston, the driver, ran to help and reeled at the ungodly stench before managing to get the patient out.

The stretcher hit the ground with a thud as the EMS began wheeling the patient inside. I will never, even in the most drugged or sober state, be able to accurately describe the person that was upon that stretcher. Glistening in the light, with a wetness that could only be from freshly opened blisters; their pale, white body bore massive black and gray patches of burns that were most certainly 3rd degree. The crooked, elongated hands were drawn up in half fists and the black, scorched face showed of unfathomable pain. The patient left a visible trail of vapor as it was wheeled into the ER. I hesitantly followed, consciously steering clear of the vile mist emitted.

2

Once inside room sixteen, the EMS staff quickly unloaded the unclad victim onto the bed. Stacy, along with Gail, began hooking different monitors to the patient and brought pacer pads to commence heart rate regulation. Samantha took one of the abnormal hands into her own and stuck an I.V. needle in it: this caused the patient's limb to twitch.

"Patient responds to deep pain stimuli!" she called out in a somewhat panicked voice while attempting to stick the patient again. "Dr. I think we are going to need to place a femoral line."

Reaching to Josh, Dr. Barbich took an irregularly large needle and placed his hands on the patient's leg. I always loathed the sight of a femoral line being placed, and this time was no exception. The doctor glanced curiously at the area for a moment and then punctured the rubbery skin.

Cloudy dark brown fluid began filling the clear tube. Blood, I thought: Could that…really…be blood? But as I questioned the quality of the fluid the unfortunate soul upon on that bed let out a weak gurgling moan. It groaned for just a moment, then sagged and lay limp again. But the timbre of the patients voice was quite disturbing. It almost sounded like, to be crude of it, a kitchen drain becoming unclogged except softer and deeper toned. How could anyone's vocal chords produce such a tone? How could a person develop such an abominable voice? Even with a shotgun wound and fire exposure, no one should be able to create such an utterance.

At this time, due to the patients disturbing croak, I finally began my duties of registration. The patient didn't have any identification, or anything that passed for it, so my job was rather hard. I was hoping that there would be an ID because when the doctor looked between the patients legs there were no traces of any genitalia! The person bore nothing that could pass for male or female. Nothing…not even a hint of scaring or defect.

Their age, which had been guessed at thirty-five, was also likely to be more than inaccurate. Its seven-foot body appeared to be the correct size for a gaunt, middle-aged man, but the texture of the unburned skin looked tight and youthful: despite the fact that the color thereof was of the purest white, with deep blue veins branching throughout.

Also adding to my confusion: much of his-her physiology was beyond me. The elbows had spike-like deformities and the shoulders possessed similar clavicular anomalies: both curling up like strange devilish horns. Their feet were similar to their hands, and the forehead was only a fourth the size of a normal person. Their face was pulled into a tight half-scream, with eye's and nose obviously seared shut. I wondered what other horrid features might lie beyond the incinerated body, beneath the scorched being. But then I thought it best not to ponder it long. The sight of the patient as a whole can only be described as…well…inhuman. Never before had I seen such a thing as was before me now. How utterly horrible, how alien and offensive. My mind swirled with obscure possibilities as to the origin of this person's physical deformities.

After a long period of thorough examination, I finally gave up hope: eventually naming the patient J. Doe. The same as EMS had stated before: thirty-five year old of unknown sex.

It was after I finished registering that I finally took notice of the metal object in Doe's chest. The large, silver, disk shaped object bearing multiple studs and engravings on its outer ring was deeply recessed within the patient's ribs. It had a very fine polished look to it. Even though it had practically been through the fires of hell! It seemed to me, for one reason or another that someone had gone to great lengths to create it. The etchings appeared to be some type of writing: but of what kind, I doubt I will ever know. It's sharp curves and periodic dots reminded me of something I had seen before in ancient scripts of questionable source. From texts shunned by even the most intelligent and simple-minded of men. The bizarre shape in the center of the ring…completely alien. Two vertical bars containing an odd tendril-endowed orb in the center. Almost like an insane version of the sun being imprisoned. For some unknown reason, the metal disk seemed to be of grave importance. Not to the patient's health mind you, but for reasons I have only recently come to know.

Joshua frantically entered the room carrying massive amounts of saline fluids and gave them to Samantha. She set them down and began to draw blood (blood?) from the central line. The dark, overly thick, fluid slowly filled each vial. I couldn't believe that that was Doe's blood: how could something so loathsome and foul, sustain this person's life? How could something like that develop? I dare not think about it. Josh took the offensive vials of putrid contagion and went strait to the lab. Samantha continued on to hang the saline bags, connecting them to the femoral line.

"My God," Samantha screamed! The patient's hand jerked violently, slicing her forearm with his-her rough fingernails. I immediately went to her aid, and had only glanced at the wound when she hurriedly exited the room. Obviously intending to wash away any disease Doe may have been carrying. I ran after her and almost collided with Stacy as she entered the room carrying a box that read, O-negative.

I reached the nurses station and quietly comforted Samantha for a few minutes. She scrubbed viciously at the wound inflicted by the abominable figure. I don't blame her: I would have too. But, when she began to worsen the wound from her frantic scrubbing, I took her hands and calmed her in a manner I will never again have the pleasure of doing. She smiled gratefully and, after bandaging herself, returned to the chaos in that unhallowed trauma room.

As she left, a loud thump came from behind me. I spastically turned around and found that the container with the patient's lab results had returned through the bank-like tubing system of the hospital. I picked up and opened the container. I then brought the paper to room sixteen. Stacy took it and with eyes wide stated, "Dr. Barbich, traces of RBC's found, but only slight traces. All other fluids are unidentified. This person…" she stuttered, "doesn't have any blood in their system!"

Dr. Barbich gazed at her and then gave the order to start giving all available blood units. He couldn't believe what he was hearing: none of us could. Samantha hung the units and, attaching them to the line, stepped back to avoid another unclean encounter with Doe's crooked hands. I, on the other hand, had no further use being in there. So I left the room and went, once again, to the ER lobby.

3

Marie, my fellow registrar, was in the back of the admissions office reading her obscene horror novels as usual. I walked by to go outside and smoke and found that Steve and Mike were at the benches again. But this time, Christy and another man from the surgery unit had also joined them. They asked what all the commotion in the ER was about. So I told them of the recent arrival. They stared with unbelieving faces as I told them of its unnatural color and shape: of its abominable voice and inhuman blood. After finishing, they then laughed and said that I was exaggerating. I told them to go inside and see for themselves if they thought I was exaggerating. Steve and Christy laughed again and then turned to go in and behold it with they're own eyes. The waning moon above and the thick night fog added a strange sense of doom to the sight of those two entering the building. Why was I so uncomfortable with the situation? And why did I keep feeling this odd sense of…fear…lingering about me? The whole scene caused me to shiver slightly.

During that time, a valley police car crept in under the ER canopy. Officer Phillips, an annoying red headed ass, casually got out of the car and walked toward us. His black uniform was saturated with the patient's abhorrent odor. But, the rotund man didn't even seem phased by the unholy reek. He came over to me, asking where the patient was, and I told him I would show him after finishing my cigarette. Mike took a big, curious whiff as Phillips stood with me and I heard him gasp and cough within his hands. I knew how he felt. But the smell that came from the pig's uniform seemed to be more of a gasoline scent than anything else. While continuing to smoke I asked the officer why this was and he explained himself with a vague summery of being startled at the crime scene, causing him to knock over a few stacked gas containers.

After I finished smoking, officer Swine and I went back into the ER. When we entered the toxic smelling room, I could see that multiple bags of blood had been hung. Four units pouring life-giving fluid into the alien form on the bed. For one reason or another I felt sickened at the thought of that wholesome fluid going into the unwholesome figure. He-she groaned through a black grimacing alien face and squirmed on the now stained hospital sheets. The nurses kept busy but seemed a bit nervous of the patients wandering crooked fingers. Phillips went to the nursing supervisor and began getting his miscellaneous information. I went to Samantha and asked what was going on. She said that they had given the patient massive amounts of blood and that his-her-it's vital signs were rising. I looked over to the writhing, white mass and shivered.

I asked Samantha if her arm was ok, but she quickly brushed me away and began her work again. I could almost swear that her bandage was soaked in blood. I didn't get a good look. But it wasn't red…no…it was darker. I must be seeing things. I stepped back and stared strait in to the patients blackened face. Cold hollow fingers of unmentionable horror gripped my spine when I looked to long at its groggily moving irregular form. Doe's very presence seemed to saturate the air with a thick aura of the unnatural. I shuddered repeatedly as fantastic thoughts entered my mind again.

I made to leave but as I did something inside me clicked. Like a dog that just caught a scent, the hair on my neck stood up and my pulse quickened. I stood there for a second wondering what the hell caused it, and just as the feeling almost dissipated…I got it again.

I turned around and glanced once again into victim's face. But this time as I did my eyes met something new…they met, the patient's eyes. He-She had managed to open them: and what did they see? They saw ME! Gazing upon me for only a moment, the patient painfully shut those glowing, violet orbs and bellowed an ungodly, high pitched wail. Tears began forming in my eyes as I reached for my ears. The scream steadily increased in volume as the nurses began falling and stumbling around, slamming their hands to their heads to protect their precious hearing. The thing contorted its body in agonized motions while continuing its inhuman, infantile cry. Fright finally overtook me. The eyes! The scream! The strange suggestions my mind gave! I began to run from the room, but the patient's voice suddenly died into a guttural choke and its body lay motionless again. Its eyes! It's form! I turned to look, but decided to leave it alone. I don't think I could stand to look upon that thing again: or worse yet…have it see me again!

Continuing down the hall, I quickly exited the ER and entered the security office. My curiosity never failed me. At least in here I could watch what was going on through the camera monitors. I would rather not be in the same room with Doe again. I sat in front of the many screens with Officer Whitaker, who we called Moose for appropriate reasons, and proceeded to calm myself.

We watched the nurses run here and there while Dr. Barbich and Dr. Alhad performed miscellaneous procedures. There must have been about thirty people in that ER. Most of them gathered to behold the unnatural unearthly horror that came to our quiet facility. They stood like deer in front of car headlights, oblivious to everything except what they could see. Moose and I joked about them not having anything else better to do. Officer Phillips rotund form came into the security office carrying a large black suitcase and sat with us. I looked at my watch and saw that it was about 2am. The patient had only been here for about an hour, but it seemed like so much longer.

The police scanner, in the security room, hissed and cracked as a voice came over it. It was an officer who was still at the site where the patient was found. He was sending the remaining bodies to the hospital for examination. Bodies? How many are there? He continued, stating that there had been some strange sounds and movements coming from the surrounding woods. A few officers were sent to investigate. One had reported back already, but the others were still out. Phillips picked up his radio and acknowledged the information.

"Just what the hell happened out there," I asked of Phillips?

"We don't know," was all he could say.

4

He told me that a call came in from a local farmer stating that there was a fire in the woods near his house and that a few gunshots had been heard in the distance. But later there was some shouting that turned into short-lived screams. This worried the man greatly, so he advised the police to drive down and check it out.

When Officer Phillips arrived in the area he said that he could smell something burning. There was the regular smell of burning wood and another odd odor that lingered within it. But, he could see no flames or smoke in any direction. He followed the dark coarse roads for a good long while until he eventually caught a small glimpse of light deep in the woods. The road had stopped, so he grabbed his flashlight and got out of the car to investigate. Following the faint yellow glow for about a mile, through thick and thorny bushes, he finally reached the source of its emanation.

Four bodies scattered about in a small clearing of the woods. A dwindling fire in the middle and the ungodly stench of burnt flesh saturating the piney forest air. One of the bodies was still aflame. But the rest were merely smoking black masses bathed in unnamable gore. Odd symbols and writing, formed from some type of white powder, adorned the ground in a massive, detailed circle. Knives and silver tools lay scattered about. Books and candles were thrown here and there.

All the bodies lay facing the trees. Except for one, it lay inside an ornate triangle on the edge of the ring. This person was the worst of the four. The bodies of the victims, except for the poor soul who lay in the triangle, possessed strange metallic necklaces that were apparently untouched but their hellish torture. He walked up to the extremely deformed one that bore no jewelry, and it jerked violently. This startled him and caused him to tumble blindly into a few gas containers.

The slight fright got him going and he called for the available medical and police units to arrive. Being that he was in a remote area it took quite a while. So, he continued to investigate the morbid scene.

Several firearms lay beside the victims to the right and left of the deformed one. The other, who was near the edge of the clearing, held a large silver hammer and a thin metal cylinder that was complexly etched over the entire surface with odd symbols and pictographs. Officer Phillips could only wonder at the diversity of items tossed about. He moved toward the obscure triangle and could see that the strange one, against its will, contained a large silver disk in his-her-its shotgun blasted chest. Phillips mind staggered at the thought of what the strange one must have endured. What mindless torture it had received.

For a moment it seemed to him that he was isolated in his own world with those silent mutilated souls. But then one of the victims spoke. The man near the clearing was barely moving and he was groaning in unfathomable pain. Phillips almost ran from the area, but instead went to the man's aid.

It was a futile effort. The man's face was black and yellow-orange with teeth and jawbone exposed. His arms were slashed and fractured in multiple areas. His feet appeared to have been subject to the chop of a furious axe, turning them to horrific knobs of crimson. But the burns! My God how could anyone live through that! The man croaked a few unintelligible words, something Phillips said sounded like, "ia mgwf'ia Cthulhu fhtagn…Mjth'Yibistl inegluea…forever in his sphere…" and relaxed his body to the ground forevermore.

Phillips stepped back and reeled to all that was occurring. The unfamiliar signs and esoteric books made him think of strange occult activities once done in those woods. Of people who supposedly danced and called strange names on dark nights long ago. Names such as Zi'ijthar, Kthin and Yuggoth. Of unmentionable beings brought about through ancient and unholy ritual. Beings referred to as the winged ones, the outer beings and the Mi-go. He decided not to ponder such things: just foolish local folklore. Mad tales to explain nighttime fears of the dark wooded terrain. Surely indulging in such thoughts would not be to anyone's benefit. He calmed himself and waited for about thirty minutes, which seemed like eternity, in that quiet circle until finally, the other units came.

Once there he relayed the information to the other officers about the call and what was found. They proceeded to inspect the area and found that the deformed figure in the triangle was still alive. Barely…but still alive. The other people, fortunately for them, were quite dead.

"No person should have survived that mess," grunted Phillips.

I thought to myself: No person...that's damn right…I don't think that…! I dare not say it out loud. Even though it was evident to me that this thing was not of mans creation. Everything pointed to stories I have read and of tales I have heard about those woods. Some even say that something much older than man dwells there. An evil that seeped down from the stars aeons ago, infecting our planet long before the human era began. But those are just farmer Brown stories! Saying it was anything else would be considered lunacy!

I gasped. Phillips and Moose turned toward me and asked what was wrong. I told them nothing, just got choked. The pig gazed at me intently for a moment and then resumed the end of his story. As he finished, I thought more and more on the situation he described.

I asked the swine if the other bodies coming were anything like the one presently here. He stated that they were quite normal. Except for the fact that they were burned beyond all recognition. I felt relieved. I have seen plenty of burned bodies in my time here. But nothing like the alien thing in sixteen. I wished to see no more of its kind ever again.

I looked at the monitor, which showed the unhallowed room and could see that the patient was coming around more and more.

Not human! I thought. Not human! No way in hell!

5

"Are you alright," asked Moose. "You are looking kind of white."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said weakly.

There came a crash from the lobby as the outer doors flew open. Julia from the filing department came running in. Her stringy black hair was awry and her eyes were wide with fear. She was screaming about something outside: something creeping around the woody hills off the campus boundary. Something obscene and white.

Moose grabbed her and tried to calm her to no avail.

"Its coming," she said. "You have to get out there! You have to…! God, it's coming! Fading! Going…quickly, GO! You have to go!"

Moose asked her what she was talking about. What was out there? She just kept screaming for them to go…to go and stop IT. He took her to room three and retrieved a nurse from sixteen. The nurse gave Julia a sedative and quickly returned back to the humanoid thing awaiting her aid. I saw Samantha standing in the unhallowed trauma room: resting her head against the wall. She was beautiful even in her dismay. Pale and sweating she leaned there for a moment and then stumblingly, she went back to work. I on the other hand, went back to the security's office.

I don't quite know what to make of what Julia said, or rather what she bellowed. But I do know that it filled me with even more fear than I had presently felt. Everything was happening so fast. I felt somewhat dizzy: nauseous. And the feeling of something unnaturally dark was growing within me more and more by the minute.

Moose reentered the security room as I began rubbing my forehead worriedly. He adjusted the monitor to look outside. He could see no activity. Officer Phillips picked up his stuff, except for the suitcase: Moose did the same.

"You can stay in here," said Moose. " We're going outside to check the area. Too much weird stuff tonight. Better safe than sorry." His voice seemed to waiver.

"Yeah, right," the words came slowly to my lips.

As they exited the room I felt myself want to spring up and stop them. Don't go, I wanted to say. Something is out there! Please, for your own sake…don't go!

But I could say nothing.

They left the room and I scooted myself in front of the monitors again. I could see Moose and the swine walking in the thick ominous mist toward the parking lot. The fog had become very thick and the night had become uncomfortably black. I could also see the unknown denizen of earth in sixteen. Seeing those images together made me quiver. J. Doe was becoming more and more active. I could hear, even from the security room, the patient beginning to groan louder as the nurses continued their work. The sound was still just as disturbing. They were now having a hard time avoiding the patients twitching hands and arms: they had resorted to using ankle and wrist restraints. Though they seemed to do little good. Samantha was sitting down now. It was obvious that she was not feeling well. She held her arm, which was beginning to bleed again, and unsteadily sat in one of the rolling chairs. I hated to see her like that. I wanted to comfort her, but, they were too busy; I couldn't just go in and disturb they're work.

6

Curiosity struck me again as I looked around and saw the black suitcase Phillips had been carrying. I wondered what might be in there. It was just a normal case, but it struck me as odd that Phillips would be carrying one. I looked into the monitors and saw that Phillips and Moose were nearing the edge of the parking lot, I would have time to look inside before they got back, so I took a little peek into the black case.

The case was full of items from the incident in the woods. My glance revealed quite a few interesting things. There was a large silver bladed knife ornately engraved with strange symbols similar to the ones on the disk in J. Does chest. The blade was stained red: I imagine I knew what had caused the discoloration. An assortment of used bullet and shotgun shells, some green and some red. An odd container with a whitish powder and a few old and broken books were also there. The books were obviously worn and damn near ancient. One was a black hardback that had suffered water and fire damage on the bottom corners. It had a queer symbol upon the cover, painted in silver: it was also similar to the unusual object in the patient's chest. Another book was bound in dark and unpleasant leather. It had a peculiar odor to it, an odor that reminded me of decomposing flowers: musty and pungent. I opened this one and found that I could read none of it.

The writing was a strange series of obscure slashes, curl's and dots. Cuneiform? Ancient glyphs? I couldn't even begin to fathom what it said. I flipped through the pages, hoping to find some pictures or something I could recognize: then I saw it. Illustrated with the finest detail was a picture of a large ring bearing a triangle on one side. It looked exactly like what Phillips had described as being at the crime scene. All around it were those strange and alien markings. Formed in the same manner as something I had seen before. It brought to mind something from the dark texts of goetic theurgy: the book of black rites. The lesser key of Solomon to be exact: a rite of summoning and purging. But this…this was much, much stranger.

I started when I heard the patient groan and a few nurses yelling. I set down the unwholesome book and picked up the last one. It had a blank white cover that was completely undamaged. I opened it and sat in horror struck awe while staring at the first page: it read:

THE CALLING OF ZI'IJTHAR

Mglw'nafh in'glwgah Cthulhu wgah'ia fhtagn

The calling! A book of summoning! My head swam with the prospect's this information gave. The woods…the circle…the tools…the figure of the patient…the INHUMAN figure of the patient! I shakily set down the book as I contemplated the idea of, …of…impossible!

I looked into the case one last time and found something that seemed to be more important than all the other items. A small, simple, yet fascinating piece of jewelry.

A necklace…it was made of a metal unlike anything I know. It was a bluish metal, formed into the same shape as the writhing sun figure on the patient's chest. But this shape lacked the ring and vertical bars. It was just the strange insane orb dangling from a dark tarnished chain. It felt warm in my hand as I held it: it felt good…protective. I slipped it over my head and let it rest on my black sweater. For the first time since the abomination in sixteen had arrived, I felt calm. Or at least calmer than I was. Glancing at the security screens, I could no longer see Phillips or Moose. I believe I saw a light coming from over the hill. They were probably hiding there while laughing and mocking Julia. Saying that she was a loony, unstable redneck, or something like that. But still, I was worried about them. The night was insane…implications of the most obscure things came from every direction.

I changed my view to room sixteen and saw that a few people were gathered around Samantha. She was on the ground shaking as Josh and Gail held her down. She spat and vomited, kicked and screamed, as if in a seizure. Her bandaged arm was beginning to bleed excessively. The blood had taken on a dark thick brown look to it and…my God!

As the thought crossed my mind the police scanner hissed and a frantic voice began to speak. It was the police at the Floyd scene:

Officers down…I repeat, two officers down…Christ in heaven…We need back up now…investigating team found…I cant explain…it…it…Sweet Jesus…They're dead! Send back up…send it now…now…now…

"HOLY SHIT," I said in amazement.

I turned again to sixteen's camera and saw Samantha beginning to buck violently. Her seizure was growing uncontrollable. A few more nurses had come to help her. They cried out as she started to foam and bleed from the mouth. Dark yellowish-brown muck seeped from her beautiful lips as her right arm began to whip and flop in chaotic manners. Her body strained and arched, her legs jerked: Josh finally let go of her when her arm suddenly slammed into his face.

Then I caught some movement in the corner of my eye as Doe began to groan louder, movement on the outside camera screen.

Moose was running back to the building, but something was wrong. Something was very wrong! I couldn't make out what it was. The fog was blocking most of my view. But, I could make out his silhouette. He was slumped to the right and limped harshly on his feet. He was in a hurry though, a big damn hurry. Was he hurt? God, what was wrong?

I sat glued in that chair, watching those monitors as Moose came closer and Samantha became more and more frenzied. Her face and arms were loosing their color. It was no longer a beautiful, fair complexion. Now it was turning white, ghost white. Gray blotches had begun forming and stretch marks were popping up across her arms and face as they began to swell. She looked diseased. Grotesque…Horrible!

7

The remainder of the night is still held in speculation by the authorities. Some say that I imagined the whole thing: that I had dreamed the event in its entirety during my period of unconsciousness. But I say now that it is true. And that I have no reason to believe otherwise. I was there…I did see…I remember fainting…and I know what remains alive! As fantastic as it may and will sound, the conclusion of that night is something I will remember every passing day for the remainder of my life.

* * * *

I could take it no longer. I shot out of my chair, legs weak and feeble, and began to run to the ER. I busted open the double doors and began walking toward the vile area of unknown and ancient evil. Samantha was shrieking from unimaginable pain. I could see her legs shuddering through sixteen's doorway as nurses panicked between helping the malignancy on the bed and attending to our friend on the floor. I picked up my pace and had gotten to the room's threshold when…

Samantha's arm audibly popped and then cracked as her hand began splitting in the middle of the palm. All the nurses let go of her and clumsily stepped away: terror gripping each and every one of them. I stood in awed silence as her arm then ripped open allowing a large, thick, brown tendril to slither out from under her skin. Her upper body then followed the same pattern. Starting from her arm and then leading down toward her navel, she "blossomed" like an unholy hell-flower, revealing countless small and large, worm-like members. Almost everyone began to panic and shout as she began whipping and lashing those horrific undulating tentacles. The patient lay only feet away on its bed and seemed to smile as it croaked in an obscene and nightmarish manner.

I tried to move from my position but could only manage to take one step back. One step away from the anomalous beings and toward the safety of anywhere but here! I didn't know what to do.

As I took that step, I heard a clang from the squad bay doors. I quickly turned to look and…

Moose! He came through the doors covered in blood, with one arm outstretched and one arm dangling broken. I tried to scream when I saw his detestable features, but no sound came from my clamped and horror choked throat. His jaw and left cheek had been completely removed in a single, deep avulsion. His eyes were gone and in there place…a faint purplish glow. He left a trail of dark fluid as he came at me. The cloudy bile pouring from his wounds saturated his clothes and covered the white tiled floor in a sloshing elongated puddle of alien putridity. I was mesmerized by the horror: and before I knew it…he had me!

I felt myself lifted up as I heard screams from every direction, then a pain in my leg. I hit the floor, splitting my scalp open in the process and dizzily got up to glance around. I painfully backed myself against the wall and looked into sixteen as Moose, or what was Moose, entered. Gail began to run out as he came in, turning past that writhing mass that had been Samantha, and was stopped by one of the wormish appendages as it buried itself into her left lower leg. She fell directly into the abominable pile of undulating tendrils: and in the time it takes to tell, she was horrifically dismembered by multiple members of impure origin. Her blood flowed in thick, heavy spurts from the vile, still half-human form like an unnatural, blasphemous fountain.

Why we all didn't run is something I could never tell you. We must have been trapped in fear. We just panicked and ran in chaos as, what was Samantha, slipped and glided across the smooth floor. Reaching root-like arms toward whomever was closest.

Moose knocked Josh out of his path and walked up to the patient. He looked at he-she-it for just a moment and then began trying to grip and pull on the object in the patient's chest. Josh screamed again as the Samantha-Thing slashed his back full length. I don't know how, but he got up and managed to scramble away. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. People screaming…running…it was HELL! Literal hell!

I looked back, through blood soaked eyes, my head wound must have been bad, and saw Moose struggling with the silver disk. It appeared that when he touched it his hands would burn. He would scream through open throat, for he now lacked a mouth, as he pulled and jostled the metal sigil. Hollowly wailing a final time his broken fingers extended unnaturally and reached underneath the strange object: and…pulling with the force of ancient hate…removed the only thing that protected us.

The silver sigil came up with a nauseating "squelch". Steve, whom I had smoked with earlier was beginning to run as Moose threw the disk aside. He stood no chance as the disk crushed his head. The amazing blast of blood and skull fragments almost made me faint. I tried to move, I wanted out, but couldn't. My leg…

It took only a moment for it to happen. I could not describe it in full. I dare not do so. But I will tell you that the patient stood up, leaning its burned body backward, and uttered its seething and thunderous cry. At least six people fainted right then and there, but the rest of us…GOD! Everyone began running and others came running in from other departments to see what was going on. The three abominations lurched and crawled in impure manners toward us humans and began killing everyone where they found them. Mike, Christy and Kevin clumsily began fleeing only to fall victim to the Samantha-Thing. She curled them up in her many members and dealt with each in a unique and appalling way. But still the same living fountain of human blood appeared in the end.

The patient…Doe…ZI'IJTHAR! Whatever it was, it casually walked through the crowded area taking swipes at people as he passed them. The whole department had become a hellish scene. Hands and legs decorated the floor. Blood and sinew was strewn over the beds and desks. I suddenly couldn't tell whether or not the floor or walls had ever been white. They had become so convincingly red! No traces of any color other than red remained. And there I sat, watching one by one, all my friends and coworkers grotesquely unmade by terrible and frightful entities. Entities born of spheres beyond human reach. Who moved and fought for reasons that no man could ever know, or dare to know.

Eventually, after a period of sheer sanity breaking terror, only I remained. I sat there unable to move, fearfully awaiting my turn at death by all three of the horrors! But to my surprise, the strange whitish demon choked and glibbered to the use-to-be Moose and to the Samantha-Thing. They gave some sort of nauseating, unearthly bow to the tall, white demon as it proceeded to bless them in some type of alien ritual by tearing they're abnormal bodies apart.

The screams that came from the humans were nothing compared to the sound that the undulating mass and mishap human made. They're death was quick and obscene beyond description: so I wont even attempt to tell what it was that happened to them. When it was done the writhing tentacle horror was nothing more than a brown residue with hollow human legs on the floor. What was left of Moose was…a radio, nothing else. I couldn't tell his pieces from the rest of the carnage.

A heavy splash came from beside me unexpectedly. I began to look up, but did not…thank God! The horrific figure of ill-born and primeval perversity walked over and past me. It paused for a moment and then turned back around. I was sure it would see me: I know it saw me! Its dark, hollow, violet eyes scanned the area for a minute but…

The patient turned away, crouched down, and ran in a crude revolting manner out the squad bay doors and into the fog filled night. The glass of the doors flew like glitter as it crashed through without care. I turned to look but couldn't. The weak metal frame creaked on its dilapidated hinges: and disappearing into the night…the tall horrid form of an evil older than man went triumphantly into the darkness.

I rolled onto my left side and gazed upon the disturbing picture of the Valley Hospital ER. Moose…Christy…Samantha…everyone…dead! Mikes head was only two feet away from me. A somewhat intact tendril was still flipping across the room. I could hear a silent wail of sirens in the background. Growing louder…louder. The view was too much. I must have fainted, because the next couple of hours were mere flashes.

I remember the warm, wet floor. The sound of people shouting, blue lights flashing outside and myself being lifted onto a bed. People rushed around me while police walked through the ER wearing small blue shoe covers. A few were in suits, but…I heard a lot of voices sobbing and crying. I also heard the number forty-eight spoken repeatedly. Forty-eight!

* * *

So…here I am now. Staring from this single bared window in my luxury suit at St. Blair's Mental Institution. It has begun to rain. So heavily in fact, that almost the entire view of the courtyard is obscured. But yes…I see it. I see its abhorrent form all too well. I have even heard its godless, blasphemous cry. Ever since I arrived here it has come closer each night. Plotting and brooding on something that I fear involves me. I realize that the only reason I'm alive is because of the strange metallic necklace I took from the black case. Its unknown power safeguarded me through the incident at the hospital but can no longer do so, for the doctors and nurses have taken it from me. I guess they consider it a "choking hazard". But why did it not protect the people at the ritual site? Why were they still vulnerable to the force of IT? Either way the necklace is gone, so all I can do is sit…and yes, wait. Wait for the imminent doom by star-born creatures that approaches to take me to the nightmare hell it took all the others to. To Leng? The stygian pits of unknown netherworlds? To places further? God protect me.

I now know that those three men in the woods attempted a great service to mankind that night. To bind and rid the world of that foul malignancy. A member of a race of inhuman ghouls that feast and live upon the undoing of life itself. Spawned in the ethereal voids of cosmic antiquity. Waiting to be released so that THEY may return! But now…one has been released. And by God…does that mean that…!?

Those three men had succeeded that night, sacrificing their own lives in the process. Only to have the ignorant fools of a mountain town's hospital undo what had cost them so much. Unknowingly releasing a denizen of an ancient and damned race. Damned by man…damned by nature…and damned by God! Even now I wonder if there really is a God: at least as man knows it! For if these beings do exist…and they're theology is true, than the God of earth is surely a feeble one: and unlikely to protect a minute race of ignorance fools such as us.

God…if only we had…

Its no wonder I'm in this horrid place.

The shadow in the courtyard has gone…