Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1) (33 page)

The terrain around me was hostile and lots of misshapen rocky crags jutted out in all directions.  Sure footing did not exist.  Every step was laborious.  Blood flowed down my shins from the dozens of times I stumbled.  I did not even know where I was going.

Looking behind, my eyes caught the sky darkened with the approach of this mass of flying creatures.  With no stable ground on which to fight, my options were few.  An idea hit me suddenly, and my swords flashed out wide and in a spinning arc.  Shards flew in all directions in an array of sparks and debris as my swords cut down the rough stone.  Continuing to spin, I carved the stones down quickly.  Moments passed.  Around me was a place to stand.  Glancing over my shoulder, I slowly turned to face the onslaught.

The flying horde approached without form.  I could not gage how far out the main host was, but enough of them were not with the main group and would arrive in mere moments.  I re-postured myself and felt warmth wash over me, emanating from my core, and then rolling outward.  My limbs did not feel heavy.  Blood no longer flowed from my legs.  To my astonishment, my legs had healed themselves!  It was a curious sensation.  I quickly glanced down at my legs as a gentle blue glow faded.  I felt my weight shift again, and the tip of the horde approached and flew within range of my blades.  My arm swung.

I smiled.  They were all about to die.

XXV

Changes

The pain was excruciating. 

Fire head to toe, burned as if the very fiber of my being was tore from its roots and held over an open flame.  Body convulsions tore at me.  Lying flat on the bed was not possible.  My back kept arcing to the point it felt like I would snap my own spine.  I screamed.  I finally gave in and let out a sob.  I could not take much more. 

I did not hear the key in the door, but several individuals entered the room.  Their panicked voices were unintelligible with the exception of the occasional curse or metaphor for what was happening.  Was my life's canvas now black?  At one point, I called out to God to save me but there was no reply or release from the pain.  Occasionally something in my arm, unlike the fire burning my core, provided momentary relief.  I could not even form a cognitive thought amidst the madness.  Every second felt like an hour.  When would it end?

I must have blacked out at some point or perhaps they found a drug that made me sleep.  My thoughts drifted, but it was not sleep.  Everything felt strange beyond comparison to anything previously experienced.  I remembered falling out of the tree outside my window once.  If you have ever played pinball you would understand my experience with the fir tree.  Near the top the branches were thin.  You do not think about this as a kid, especially when it is a place treaded before.  You get heavier as you grow.  I enjoyed being up high in trees, sometimes just because they were there...other times to get away and think.  I do not recall which reason had me up in this hundred-foot tree that day.  There was a sickening crack and gravity did its job.  It was a solid memory.

By my guess, I hit every branch on the way down.  The bruises covering my body supported the theory.  I was tender for days after.  An hour passed with me doing a systems check before getting up.  Having fallen out of trees before, the day took my desire to climb right out of me.  In fact, I do not think I ever climbed another tree in that fashion again.

That event did not even come close to what I felt when awakened.  My mind attributed that tree experience to a diminished version of what overloaded my senses.  My head was not as constricted this time, but the leather shackles remained in place.  There was a little more play but just an inch or so.  The sheets were soaked.  I felt the same sensation like before when I awoke from the coma. 

My muscles hurt and my bones felt like they were out of place in every possible way.  I tried slowly moving parts of my body and felt shooting pains firing off in all directions.  My facial muscles locked in a frozen expression of pain.  A beeping sound came from my left in the distance that sounded like it might some sort of monitor.  The slow rhythmic beat lulled me in for a moment and reminded me of a song from a long time ago where the drum was actually a heartbeat.  I had always thought that was a cool idea.  The name of the song escaped me.  It really did not matter though, my head felt so foggy.  My mind floated.

Was it some sort of painkiller?

Although it was difficult to reason right now, I thought about what was happening and came up with a few conclusions amidst the fog banks in my mind.  First, the attacks returned and this is what it felt like when conscious.  Second, it was a result of all the damage finally catching up to my nervous system.  I could not imagine it could all hit me at once like this, but I was open to suggestions in my semi cognitive state.  The third idea was that I was in Hell. 

I flexed my hands and feet a few times and felt the muscles protest and cramp up as if they had been in cold weather too long.  The cramps became so intense that it felt like the tendon wanted tear away from the bone.  Deep breaths helped me relax a little.  They eventually went away but took several more minutes.  A strange noise hit my ears, like ear drums popping at high altitude followed by a high-pitched whine.  I raised my head and panned the room with my eyes half open.  It took me a moment to see that I was not in a room in the psych ward now, but some dark place instead.  It smelled horrible. 

I gagged for a moment and felt bile hit my throat.  The burning sensation followed.  Spit took forever to accumulate to chase it down...it was then I realized there was a hose hanging close to my head.  I did not smell any foulness to it and its position was accessible...
water...
a small kindness and very appreciated.

I managed to get my lips around it and began to suck as hard as my weakened state would allow.  Thankfully it was water.  Several minutes passed of drinking before things felt better and diminished the burning in my throat.  The water was cool but kind of stagnant.  I began to cough a little bit from the after taste.  It then hit me that I could raise my head.  Most of the times when sedated it was not possible because they fully strapped me in.  It was very odd that I was not in “full nut bar kit” as nurses called it.  There was no catheter or diaper of any sort on me.

The high pitch sounded again catching my attention.  It sounded like some sort of power tool but was hard to say since I was not exactly adept at picking the sounds out that power tools made.  It finally stopped after several minutes.  My head was still pounding when it finally stopped so I called out.

“Hello?”  I cracked.

Silence

I waited another few minutes and called out again.  A bit more volume came out this time.  My destroyed voice sounded horrible to me so I could imagine the sound it must have been making did not sound human at all. 

“Anybody there?  Orderly?  Doctor Price?  Anyone?”  A clatter, something metal hitting something, echoed from outside the door.  The handle turned and it swung wide.  A man came in about a step wearing a plastic facemask swung up from his face.  He had on an apron covered with blood.  I smelled the crimson scent, it hit me right in the forehead like a sledgehammer, and my breathing quickened.

A squeaky voice assaulted my eardrums.  It was so annoying I just wanted to get up and punch him so he could not speak again…ever.  I was having a hard time processing the words when he spoke again.

“Holy shit!  Who the hell are you and what are you doing down here?”  I noticed a look of fear on his face.

“What do you mean
down
here?”  I managed to say before my voice cracked.

“The morgue.  Why are you in this room?”

My smart-ass humor really was pulling to the surface right now.  I decided to be sort of nice.  “Do I look like I have any sort of say in the matter?”  There was a long pause.

“Yes?” came the timid answer.  I lost my patience.

“Are you kidding me?”  I wanted to start cussing him out but knew it would not help the situation.

“No sir I am not.  I am the mortician.  Please don’t hurt me.”

I raised my head and looked at him.  He was actually shaking.  “Do I look like I could hurt you?  I am a scrawny little kid.” 

Silence again.

“Whatever you say.”  His voice shook.

That was a strange answer.  While staring at him I noticed my feet hung off the bed buy a foot, probably more and just out into the air.  My eyes panned up to my thighs and must have gotten big because he was starting to cower now and backed up.  An attempt to raise myself up met resistance from the straps across my chest holding me down.  This was finally enough.  I raised my arm a little and felt the restrains as well, but I could see enough.  My forearm looked distorted.  I blinked my eyes and shook my head.  This has got to be an illusion. I reopened my eyes and looked again.  It was still blurry.

I looked him in the eyes.  “Take this off…now!”

He shook his head no.  I dropped my head back to the pillow.  A throaty growl escaped my lips and I stopped for a second; it did not sound normal, let alone human.  The door creaked and I looked up.  He was gone and more shuffling was coming from down the hall as he apparently left the other room too.  Anger was building.  The rage swelled inside.  My boiler was about to blow.  I was tired of doctors and their tests.  This was the last straw!  They had me so pumped full of drugs that my eyes did not even work right, and now some little imp of a man would not let me go.  On top of that they had me on some bed that was for a child.  The intensity reached a crescendo and my body started to shake.  The adrenaline hit.  My arms tested the limits of the straps and I started to pull at them.

Something snapped and my arm moved a little.  Not caring, I busted apart the restraints as they flexed again.  I was spinning out of control fast and just wanted to hit something.  The blood on the apron from moments before fueled the burn, and for some reason it made me want to hit something even more.  Another snap gave me more movement.  I did not care.  My voice echoed through the room as everything flexed and pulled.  My days as a lab rat were over.

A ripping sound filled the room followed by metal bits hit the floor.  I was now sitting up; my arms were free.  Heavy breathing heightened the enraged feeling, but it was not like before.  There was no dizzy feeling as if my consciousness was fading.  Looking around the room, it was in disarray.  There were bugs on the floor both alive and dead with some sort of dead animal from a while ago based on the decomposition.  The air was dank and heavier now with the metallic scent to it.  Moisture also hung in the room, which most likely contributed to the smell.  Far off occasional sounds added to the confusion...a clatter here, a faint bell of some sort there.

I could now move my upper body freely.  The I.V. came out in the process of sitting up and a small trickle of blood rolled down my arm.  As the drugs began to wear off, almost immediately the fuzzy feeling started to slowly lift.  The feeling started to return to some of the affected areas.  I took a deep breath.  It felt very good to breathe deeply.  Strength began to fill in the void inside me.  With a quick yank, my feet were free and the task or removing the restraints the rest of the way was easy.  It was very strange to me that the straps, especially so many of them would be so weak.  The drugs had to have made me stronger or maybe it was the moisture in this room had an ill effect on the leather.  I swung my legs over the side and found my feet touched the floor right away; there was not even any need to drop down.

I did not want my bare feet to touch this filthy floor.  It was slimy and cold.  As I applied pressure to the balls of my feet and gently rose to test my balance, my ascent was too quick and my head hit the low ceiling.  The ringing sensation when you crack your head filled my ears telling me how the impact was.  I ducked down and rubbed the top of my head furiously.  Slightly angry at the lowness of this room I found myself pulling my fist out of the wall.  The Broken material fell all over the floor and I retracted my hand making quite a mess.

“Glad I won’t be paying for that, I don’t have a job!  Try to collect from me after you put me in this hole,” I yelled, a little less angry now.  “This must be from an old wing or something made for a child.  Even the ceiling is very low.  If this really is the morgue, why would that matter?”  

Heading over to the door I opened it.  Ducking was the only way to peer into the room beyond.  As my eyes adjusted to how bright it was, horror filled my thoughts at what I saw and smelled.  Tables upon tables lined the walls.  Each one had a body on it in various stages of something.  Some were covered with sheets stained with blood, some were just lying there naked, no sheet at all.  The smell was something like an old folk’s home, it just stunk as if old people do when they get to that age that they do not care and stop bathing.  Urine mixed with decay assaulted my nose.  A hint of blood was still in the air and made it bearable.  I coughed a bit.  The mixture was still hard to breathe.

He was not kidding.  This really is the morgue.

I must have had some sort of shocked look on my face as I peeked into the room because someone watched me through what looked like a window and he saw me enter.  As I walked in he appeared to watch me and move towards me.  The largest man I had ever seen was looking at me.  I did not hear any glass break and was ready to for this huge orderly to grab me.  He did not move, but reacted to my movements.  He just stared at me with a strange look on his face.  I froze and waited for him act.  He did not budge.  Something looked very familiar about this person, as I stood fixated.  My hand rubbed my throbbing head and the person in the window appeared to mimic.  I touched my nose; so did he.  This went on for about thirty seconds when I realized in shock that it was a distorted reflection of me.  It was highly polished stainless steel fridge catching my reflection.  The drugs must be really messing with my head.  I moved farther into the room, observing my surroundings.

I took in the scents in the room.  The smells, the blood, the other cleaning chemicals, and the embalming solution made a disgusting bouquet of aroma.  All of it was revolting, but I was somewhat fascinated by the bodies.  They all seemed so peaceful, yet frozen in the grip of death forever.  When it is my time, going peacefully without leaving behind a mess would be ideal.  A Viking burial had my vote.  Put my ass in a boat filled with wood, and fire and arrow.  It was simple and easy…no muss, no fuss, and no mess.  Well, if you count sinking a boat in the ocean as not being a mess.

More glancing around the room revealed two doors; one looked like it went into a fridge, the other the hallway.  The previous sound was probably the fan in the cooler being off balance or something.  It rattled loudly; the guy working in here must be a whack job for all the bodies and the noise not to bother him.  I walked over towards the door and felt searing pain in my forehead and a popping sound.  My knees hit the floor.  I could feel moisture and heard a crunching sound when attempting to regain my balance followed by pain in my knees.  Blood run from my scalp line to my brow, then right into my eyes.  Attempting to get to my feet brought more pain and wetness.  My eyes burned when trying to keep them open.  Remembering there was a sink right by the door, I made my way in that general direction.