"You can see him now, ma'am. If you'll just come with me?"
Jada looked up and gave the nurse a terse, worried smile. Together they made their way out of the waiting room and deeper into the bowels of the hospital. She wasn't even sure why she was here, really. She had received the call earlier that day that her friend Aaron had been hospitalized, and apparently she was the emergency contact. She was a little surprised at that, although not shocked. His on-again-off-again boyfriend was off again (hopefully for good this time, she thought), and his family wasn't in the area. They were close enough to come down in an emergency, but maybe he had hurt himself doing something stupid or embarrassing. Or just didn't want to trouble them. That must be it. It can't be anything too serious, right?
"Knock knock!" the nurse said brightly. "Look who's here!"
He looked over and gave them a tired grin. "Hello there, Jada. Glad you could make it." He turned his head back to gaze out the window at the setting sun. "Isn't that just a glorious view?"
They had met freshman year of college at a mixer for engineering students. He was a bit of an odd duck; his vocabulary and manner of speech could make him come across as pompous (and let's be honest, he was) but Jada came to appreciate his unapologetic weirdness. As they continued in their education, their class schedules drifted apart – he dropped out of engineering to focus on botanical research, while she continued on to study biomedical engineering – but they remained close. Until about a month ago, when he suddenly dropped off her radar.
"Jesus Christ, what happened to you? You look awful!" The last time she had seen him he'd been (relatively) healthy and happy. But the person before her, lying in that hospital bed...
He was swimming in his hospital gown, barely more than skin and bones. She could even see the bones in his elbow shifting as he raised his arm to his stomach with a wince. His skin, usually lightly tanned this time of year, was pale and sallow. His smile (much too short-lived for Jada's liking) had not touched his eyes, which looked out from their sunken sockets with a bone-tired weariness and an almost haunted expression. He was staring out the window, watching the sunset with a strange intensity, like it was the first he'd ever seen. Or the last.
"Hey, are you okay?" She sat beside him, lightly laying her hand on his. He flinched at the touch, but he tore himself away from the sunset long enough to give her another small smile. At a loss for words, he just waved his other hand at the window. Together they sat in silence for a moment as amber rays flooded into the room, suffusing it with a cozy glow.The cheerful yellow sun was sinking into a bed of clouds, turning them from fluffy white to a rich gold. Further up from the horizon, the clouds were a rosy pink, contrasting exquisitely with the velvety purple of the sky. The brilliant medley of colors was quite a sight to behold, Jada had to admit. As she turned to him to say something to this effect, she saw that he was crying softly. She opened her mouth to speak, but he just shook his head and patted her hand, tears silently coursing down his cheeks.
After a quiet moment watching the sun sink lower in the sky, she tried again.
"Aaron, what happened to you?"
He sighed. "All right. I guess I owe you an explanation. I just... I just hope you believe me." He turned back to gaze out the window, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand. "Not that I'd blame you. I barely believe me."
He winced again, grabbing his stomach. "They made me call someone because... well, the doctor's best guess is Crohn's disease." He snorted. "They're going to release me tonight, after they do a colonoscopy, check me out... I need someone to drive me home, as they're going to put me under for it... the col–" His voice abruptly cut off, his face contorted into a mask of pain. The hand not resting uneasily on his belly balled up the sheets in a tight, white-knuckled fist. Jada reached down and put her own hand on top.
"Here, squeeze my hand when it hurts." Gratefully, he took her hand. "You need to save (ow) save your energy. There'll be plenty of time (Jesus that's a tight grip) to tell me whatever you want tonight when I take you home. Your only job right now is to rest."
He firmly shook his head. "I want– I need to get this off my chest. Someone's got to know what happened to me out there." He laid his head back on the pillow. "When was the last time you saw me?"
"Uhhh... well." She scratched her head. "I think it was that day we went to brunch. And then we went to that movie, the Reese Witherspoon one, remember?"
He smiled. "Right. Yes, I remember. Okay, so I told you that day that Mason broke up with me?"
Jada tried not to roll her eyes, she really did. "Yeah, you told me."
He gave a soft chuckle. "I know, I know. Well, about a week after that, he called me. Wanted to 'talk'. He said that it was a mistake, he missed me, wanted to get back together..." He sighed. "You'd be proud of me. I told him to shove it. I think I'm done with him. For good."
"Oh hell yes bud, good for you! This calls for a celebration. Once you're feeling better, drinks are on me."
"Yeah, sure. Once I'm feeling better." He gave her a wan smile. "Anyway, I was feeling a little heated after that conversation. I felt like I needed to get out of... well, out of my head, out of my own skin, I don't know. I thought I would clear my head, hit one of those hiking trails. I really should've checked the weather before I set out, especially so late in the afternoon, but I wasn't really thinking straight."
In the thick, expectant pause while he gathered his thoughts, Jada suddenly felt like the whole world was leaning in to listen to his story. The sounds of the hospital outside their door were faint and muffled, and everything from the empty bed next to Aaron to the golden glow of the sun slipping behind the horizon seemed to be awake, aware of the two, and listening intently. He took a breath and continued.
"It started out fine. The weather was nice, positively balmy, the skies mostly clear. It was refreshing to be out alone with my thoughts. Clarifying. Then it all started to go awry...
The day suddenly darkened, the shadows dappling the path fading into the encroaching gloom. Above me, the benign clouds hovering on the horizon had crept up on the sun and ambushed it. Now swollen and dark, they threatened a further outburst of violence at any moment, this time against any hapless hikers who happened to be caught out at their mercy. As I scanned the sides of the trail for anything that could serve as shelter from the incoming assault, a fat drop buzzed past my ear and stung the back of my hand. The air was growing thicker by the minute, filling with an almost sexual tension between the pregnant, fecund clouds and the parched earth below. I quickened my pace.
Around the next corner, I beheld a massive, gnarled tree. At some point in its life, the tree must have been partially disturbed, for a tangle of roots was visible aboveground, creating a hollow underneath. I surmised it had been used as a shelter or den by some animal, perhaps a wolf or a coyote, or even a fellow human, because it had been scraped out enough to comfortably fit me as I wriggled in. Just in time, too, as I could hear the beginning of the onslaught the clouds had been threatening. I curled up in the space beneath the tree and waited, listening to the staccato strike of the rain.
I jolted awake. I must have dozed off, for the quality of the light filtering in through the roots of the tree was different than would be expected for an afternoon hike. The rain had stopped, leaving the ground around the tree damp, but the soil underneath that I was laying in mercifully dry. As I poked my head out, I saw the sun, hanging low in the sky like an angry, distended cyst. It was massive, seeming to fill the sky, and it suffused the previously idyllic hiking path with a sense of weary malevolence. This was a sun that had seen the apocalypse many times over and took a certain smug pleasure in presaging the next imminent catastrophe.
Under the spiteful eye of the red giant, I crawled out from under the tree and tried to find my bearings. The storm was retreating into the east, seeming to flee the glare of the setting sun. The towering clouds were lit from below by the baleful red light, turning them into bruised towers of crimson red and deep indigo. Lightning forked through the storm, the thunder rumbling across the tops of the trees in gradually increasing intervals. I turned back to face the sun. The logical course of action was to proceed west, away from the storm I had just waited out. But something about the way the sun hung in the sky filled me with a sense of foreboding. I felt like it was watching me, the eye of some massive predator, knowing that its wait was nearing its end. The red dirt of the path had ignited into a brilliant vermillion color under the light of this sun, and it seemed to wend its way directly toward the spot the sun would touch as it lowered to the horizon.
I paused. Red dirt? I thought the path I had been following all afternoon was gravel. And upon closer inspection, the trees lining the path looked... were they always so gnarled? Had I reached a part of the forest where the trees grew in tortured shapes, some inner circle suffused with a sinister force that warped the flora into twisted giants with grasping boughs, ready to catch and hold their prey?
Of course not. I shook myself from my daze. I was a little off kilter after being caught in that storm and napping beneath the tree, that's all. The sun is (lying in wait) setting, and the sooner I get out of (its trap) this forest, the sooner this day can be over. Fighting the gorge of panic I could feel rising in my throat, I continued down the path, away from the storm and into the burning sunset.
It wasn't until I heard it that I realized the surrounding woods were dead silent. Apart from the retreating thunder, there wasn't a whisper of wind, no rustles of creatures going about their business in the undergrowth, no song from birds or insects to be heard. It felt like the forest was hunkered down, hiding and holding its breath - until I heard a muffled cry, and the faint sound of voices in the distance. A low rumble, not unlike the thunder of the retreating storm, but instead of growing fainter and further away, I could hear it increasing in volume and pace. It sounded rhythmic, like chanting, but in a rhythm too complex to be discerned at this distance. I imagined that the malign gaze of the ghastly sun was being drawn away from me, hungrily seizing on a spot ahead of me, from where the sounds of voices raised to a fever pitch seemed to be emanating.
I continued on, my growing anxiety clawing at my heart. The path I had been following branched ahead of me, splitting to the left and the right. I paused for a moment, my heart thumping loudly in my ears in time to the distant (not so distant) chanting, my breath thrumming in my chest. This was not right. The trail I had started on today was one continuous loop, it did not bifurcate like this. Oh god where am I? Under the glare of the red sun I did not want to tarry. I needed to find shelter, to escape, to get back on familiar ground. I took a path almost at random, my feet seeming to guide me of their own accord. I hoped to find my surroundings becoming more recognizable, and to put some distance between myself and that horrible droning chanting. At first it seemed like I had succeeded; the woods grew thick and muffled the awful sound of the thundering voices (and shielded me from the hungry gaze of the red sun.)
Suddenly, though, the woods fell away. I was exposed, out in the open, standing at the edge of a wide clearing. The sun hung low and baleful over the distant trees. Ahead, the path took a sharp turn (putting the sun at my back) and terminated before a sort of depression. It was hard to tell if the pit was natural or excavated. It was roughly circular, at least sixty feet deep and fifty across, and the sides were roughly cut into a series of steps, almost like a natural amphitheater. This similarity was heightened by the scene unfolding in the bottom, a scene my brain refused to take in at first out of sheer horror.
The predatory glare of the sun bathed the scene below in a fiery red glow. Standing in rings along the spiraling path were about a dozen robed figures. Some of them were swaying in place, some were flailing their limbs, one had its head thrown back and seemed to be convulsing, but they were all chanting the same chant that had drawn me in, now at a pace so fast it was hard to separate the individual words - not that it would have shed any (grisly crimson blood-soaked) light on the situation if I had been able to discern the words of the chant, because it was in a language that was completely alien to me.
The sun at my back (danger! danger! never turn your back on a predator) was throwing my shadow down almost to the bottom of the pit. It lay at the feet of a stone altar or table, above which stood two of the robed figures. One was brandishing a large serrated knife dripping with (oh god it is it's) blood, freshly spilled from the man tied spread-eagle to the table. He was flayed open from his sternum to his crotch, his entrails laid out, exposed to the open air. And oh god, his intestines! They were writhing, like long ropy snakes disgorging themselves from his abdominal cavity. I fell to my knees under the watchful eye of that horrible star and vomited there on that godforsaken red dirt path.
There must have been some contention between the robed figures, because while I was doubled over I could hear them arguing in that same strange language. This time when I raised my head, I noticed a figure lying crumpled on the ground next to the altar, completely naked and bleeding out into the dirt. This could have been the source of the cry I had heard; a second sacrifice for the terrible stone table that had tried to escape, and had been hastily struck down. Mingled with my horror was a sense of frantic triumph. At least whatever horrific ritual they had been performing was interrupted, hopefully never to be completed.
As I wiped my mouth and got back on my feet, I noticed two things. First, the hooded figures had fallen silent and were looking up at me. And second, their faces were all in shadow. For one confused moment I thought my own shadow had grown, stretched into a taller, leaner shape. Then I saw the head. The shadow on the ground before me was the shadow of a bipedal humanoid shape, unnaturally slender, almost emaciated, with an enormous rack of antlers. And the creature casting this shadow must be right behind me.
A rumbling voice from behind me spoke. I could clearly hear the words it said, speaking in the language of those hooded figures, but unlike their chants, I knew what this voice was saying. The meaning leapt unbidden into my mind, seeming to echo across vast distances, up from deep within the earth and down from the swollen dying star. Through some infernal power I understood what it said: I HAVE BROUGHT YOU ANOTHER.
The shadow moved then, reaching forward with its massive skeletal hands. Paralyzed with horror, I could only watch as ten long thin fingers interlaced underneath my arms, as I felt two thumbs close around my back. The fingers I could see were long enough to wrap around my entire torso, and white as bleached bone. Each finger was easily as wide as two of mine put together, but thin and emaciated. Despite their fragile appearance, they clasped me firmly, resisting any of my attempts to break their grasp. They burned with a febrile heat that I could feel through my hiking clothes, aflame with a fever no human body could sustain for long. These gaunt, haggard hands lifted me bodily through the air and placed me beside the altar.
The robed figures leapt into action. They grabbed me, pulled me around the table and forced me to my knees. I was at the foot of the table, looking up at the flayed victim. I was eye level with the ends of his writhing entrails, and I could see a terrible transformation taking place. One severed end of his intestine was pulsing and puckering. As I watched, the end lengthened into a snubbed point, split, and yawned open. Wicked fangs sprouted from the split, and I found myself looking down the maw of a pink, fleshy serpent. As it closed its mouth, scales began to sprout, slowly creeping down the length of the intestine. The snake stared me down with an evil intelligence in its eyes.
One of the robed figures slowly raised its knife, then swiftly brought it down to strike the table with a dull thud. Now cut free from its host, the snake began to explore its new body, twisting and slithering in small loops on the table beside the man it was just cut free from. All too soon, it turned its attention to me. I felt a robed figure's hand in my hair as my head was pulled back, and another hand forcing open my mouth. I moaned as I realized what was about to happen. I could still feel the heat on my torso from where that thing's monstrous hands had gripped me, radiating into my muscles and sapping my strength. I could do little more than wriggle helplessly in the cultists' grip as the snake slithered over to me.
It flicked out its tongue, scenting me, tasting me. I shuddered as I felt it brush over the tip of my nose. The snake leisurely slid itself past my cheek, onto my shoulder. I could feel the rasp of its scales against the back of my neck as it wrapped itself around me. I moaned again as I felt the snake's head touch the corner of my open mouth, and that moan escalated to a scream as the snake slid over my teeth and onto my tongue. My screams were muffled as the snake wormed itself headfirst down my throat. It would have been a relief to pass out, but unfortunately I remained conscious the entire time as the snake disappeared into my body. I could feel the gentle pricking of its scales against my esophagus. I could feel its strange heat, much the same as the heat of those wasted bony hands. I could feel it passing through my sphincters and squirming through my stomach and intestines. Finally its tail passed between my lips, and the hooded figures released me. I desperately wanted to puke again, try to get this thing out of me, but nothing was coming up. My body was no longer mine to control. I felt a pinch from somewhere deep inside me, and a wave of cramps traveled up my large intestine. I doubled over and hit the ground as wave after wave of pain radiated out from my midsection. I was dimly aware of movement above me as the cultists finished up their ritual, but I was too focused on the pressure building in my belly. It felt solid and heavy, like all the empty space in there was filled with cement. But every so often there would be a gurgle and I would feel everything shift and move as the snake wriggled through me. Eventually, my vision started to cloud over and I slipped, not into blackness, as I could still see the hateful glare of the red sun even through my closed eyelids, but into merciful unconsciousness."
He fell silent, gazing out of the window again. The silence coiled around them like a living creature, squeezing the air from Jada's lungs. Unsure of what to say, she simply stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Anyway, I woke up under that tree again, soaking wet and freezing cold. I managed to get to my car, get home, get to bed. I thought – well, I hoped – it had been a strange dream or something." He grimaced and shook his head. "No, not for a minute did I think it was a dream. My rational mind tried to tell me it was but–" He grabbed her arm. "–I could feel it. Jada, I can still feel it." He began to weep, his fingers digging into her arm.
"I– I–" She was at a loss for words. Whatever her friend had been through these last few weeks had obviously traumatized him, so much so that he'd had a break from reality. She wouldn't be able to argue him out of his delusion, she knew better than that, but maybe she could gently nudge him back to reality. And a part of her... well, he was scared, yes, but... he just seemed so sane.
"Well, if you thi– I mean, if there's a– when they do the colonoscopy, won't they see... it? They'll be able to help you, get it out of there. Or something. Right?"
At this, he blanched, slowly dropping his hand back to his belly. "You're probably right," he said tremulously. "I just..." He looked up at her, fear blazing in his eyes. In a choked whisper he said, "I'm scared they'll make it angry."
Jada felt his panic boil up and spill over into her. "So what are you going to do?"
He wiped his eyes nervously, still cradling his belly with one arm. "I really don't know. There's not a lot I can do, is there." They sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other.
"Knock knock!" It was the nurse again. "Dr. Nguyen is just about ready for you, dear. I'll be back in a minute to get your anesthesia started, then wheel you down to the prep room. Everything okay in here?" Aaron gave her a thumbs up and a shaky smile.
"Great! Be back in a jiff."
Jada turned back to Aaron. "Does she say that every time she enters the room?"
He rolled his eyes, but he also cracked a small smile. "She sure does. Every time." The smile faded from his face. "Listen. In case something happens in there–"
"Nothing's gonna happen, Aaron, everything's going to be fine!"
He grabbed her hand with a grave look on his face. "You don't know that, Jada. Just listen. I don't want my folks to be wondering about me. I need them to know... not the details, but I want them to be able to..." He was beginning to choke up again.
"Knock knock, I'm back!" The nurse bustled into the room with a new IV bag, the anesthetic. She busied herself with Aaron's other arm, the one attached to the hand Jada wasn't holding.
"Of course, Aaron," Jada said. "If something happens to you, if, they'll be the first to know."
He smiled up at her. "Thank you."
She took a beat and then said, "And what about Mason, what should I tell Mason?"
This got an actual laugh out of him. "Fuck Mason!"
Jada was relieved to see a glimpse of her friend again. She had been afraid that he'd succumbed completely to despair. Ever since she'd arrived at the hospital she'd seen only fear and horror behind his eyes, but here for the moment was laughter and hope. He's gonna be okay, she thought, he's gonna pull through. He has to.
"All right, all set! You ready to go?" Aaron looked up at Jada, his eyes brimming with anxiety again, muted only slightly by the drugs beginning to take effect.
"I'll be waiting right out here for you, buddy," she said. She stood back and watched nervously as the prep team wheeled him out of the room. The nurse took her arm.
"Don't you worry about a thing, dear, he'll be just fine. Dr. Nguyen is an excellent doctor, she sees cases like this all the time. They have wonderful medications these days for Crohn's and colitis. In fact..." She chirped on in Jada's ear, trying to reassure her, but all Jada could do was watch them taking Aaron away. She could hear his slurred voice floating down the hall, moaning, "No, please... don't let them. It won't like you doing this... It won't let you... please..."
The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the sound of his voice.