I yelled back to Julien and Dr. Benway at the doorway, telling them what I was seeing, trying to make sense of it. They’d managed to get inside the Ward but couldn’t force themselves any further in. They didn’t have my gift—to find a way forward, in the face of everything.
I concentrated, focusing my gift on the human-shaped gap in our world. I tried to reach into the gap, to find the link between the patients and the beings from Outside, so I could break it . . . but it only took me a moment to realise that the patient was the link. I couldn’t break the link without killing the patient. And I wasn’t ready to that. Not until I’d tried everything else I could think of first. I couldn’t sacrifice one life to save many. Julien wouldn’t approve. He always was a good influence on me, the bastard. So, since I couldn’t touch the alien influence, I found the man and grabbed on to him. I could feel him, held half-way between this world and the other. And the more I held on to him with my gift, the more real I found him, until finally it was the easiest thing in this world to haul him all the way back into reality. And suddenly there he was, hanging in mid air, where the gap used to be. One hundred per cent real and solid and human. I let go, and he fell to the floor. And so did the beings from Outside that had been attached to him, that I’d found and dragged into this world with him.
All of Ward 12A snapped back to normal. The light was soft and even, the awful howling was gone, and the room was room-shaped again, with only the three usual dimensions. Patient John Doe X 47 lay curled up in a ball on the floor, breathing harshly, eyes wide and staring. I’d rescued his body, but someone more experienced in these matters would have to bring his mind back after everything the poor bastard had been put through. I looked at the aliens I’d dragged through into our world, and my lip curled. Rewritten and restructured by the laws of our reality, there were floppy bits of meat, each the size of a man’s head, with protrusions that made no sense, squirming and oozing across the floor. They whined and squealed with every movement, as if being in our world hurt them. I only had to look at them to know they were suffering and dying, unable to withstand human conditions. One by one, they fell silent and lay still, and within moments they were rotting and falling apart. I looked back at Julien as he came forward to join me.
“That enough of a message for you?”
“That will do nicely,” said Julien. “They’ll think twice before trying that again. You did well, John.”
“It’s a shame they died so quickly,” said Benway. “I wanted to stamp on them first.”
I had to raise an eyebrow. “Hard core, Doc.”
She surprised me with a brief, happy smile. “No-one messes with my patients and gets away with it.”
She moved over to the patient lying on the floor, knelt beside him, and spoke reassuringly to him as she checked his vital signs. He didn’t even know she was there.
“We are but flies to alien entities,” Julien said. “They use us for their sport.”
“Bastards,” Dr. Benway said succinctly, without looking up.
“You’re thinking of the Sun King, aren’t you?” I said quietly to Julien.
“Aren’t you?” said Julien.
Dr. Rabette and Dr. Burke stuck their heads through the open doorway, attracted by the reassuring quiet. Benway saw them as she stood up, beckoned them into Ward 12A, then drove them to check on the other patients with a furious glare and a fusillade of bad language. Most of the other patients seemed more confused than anything. Having been pushed so far-away, they hadn’t been affected by the released energies. Most of them were too preoccupied with their own problems anyway. And once I could see them clearly, I didn’t blame them.
One bed was full of three people who’d been mashed together in an ungainly tangle of limbs, their pallid flesh stretched taut, while three faces stared from different sides of the same head. I don’t know what their staring eyes saw, but I knew it wasn’t anything I wanted to see. A man sat stiffly upright on the next bed, strapped bodily to the headboard. Where his head should have been there was only a brightly shining star. Next to him, a woman squatted on her bed, held in a tightly reinforced strait jacket chained to the wall. Her eyes were simply evil. She laughed softly, continuously, waiting for the moment when someone would be stupid enough to release her. Something that might have been a man or a woman, once, lay in a pool of its own blood, bulky pieces of alien tech protruding through its cracked and broken skin.
Many of the patients had extra organs, or added alien attributes, their bodies changed and adapted so they could survive on some other, alien world. Useless here, of course. They hadn’t asked for what had been done to them. Abducted, changed, then dumped when the experiment didn’t work out. I wanted to get my hands on the creatures that could do such things and make them suffer for their sins. I looked sharply at Julien, filling my voice with anger so he wouldn’t hear anything else.
“This isn’t right! It would be kinder to let these poor bastards die.”
Julien nodded, understanding things I couldn’t say out loud, even to him. “The doctors do help people here. Though I have to say, I didn’t know things were this bad . . .”
“But you’re the man who knows everything,” I said.
“It’s part of the job to know that places like this exist . . . but even I can’t keep up with the details.”
“You don’t have to,” said Dr. Benway, coming over to join us. “There’s a limit to the burdens anyone can be expected to carry.” She gestured sharply to Burke and Rabette to carry John Doe X 47 back to his bed. “Being sent here isn’t a death sentence, Mr. Taylor. We can help a surprising number of the people who come through our doors. But sometimes the best we can offer is to contain them, keep them comfortable, and hope that someone somewhere is working on something new. New things are discovered, or arrive, in the Nightside every day. So no, it wouldn’t be kinder to kill them all. Every day we keep them alive in spite of what’s been done to them is a victory. You can’t give up hope, Mr. Taylor. Hospitals run on hope.”
I nodded slowly. “And miracles do happen, even in the Nightside.”
“Perhaps especially in the Nightside,” said Julien Advent.
A handful of burly-looking nurses came bursting through the doorway; some of them carrying really big guns. They relaxed a little as they saw that the crisis was over, put the guns in the Ward locker, and moved immediately to see to the patients. Benway relaxed a little, too.
“The security doors must have opened. Let’s go to my office and talk.”
She gestured for Burke and Rabette, and they came back, reluctantly. Benway surprised them with a brief smile.
“Everybody runs, the first time. Not everyone comes back. Now, make sure the patients are settled and don’t be stingy with the tranqs. Stay here till everything’s back to normal, and I don’t want to hear any whining about overtime. The job is the job.”
Burke and Rabette nodded quickly and went back to work. Benway looked after them almost fondly.
“They’re young. They’ll adapt. Or they’ll leave the Hospice and move into some less nerve-racking job, like bomb disposal.”
Dr. Benway led us back through the corridors of the Hospice, her hands in her coat pockets, looking a lot more human. She smiled at Julien and actually nodded to me. Hospice personnel hurried past us, back to the wards and patients they’d been forced to abandon during the emergency. Patients were wheeled past on trolleys, or in wheel-chairs, or helped along by nurses and the cat-faced robots. They all nodded respectfully to Dr. Benway and ignored Julien and me. Benway sighed, deeply.
“I really wasn’t going to talk to you, Julien. I was going to leave you sitting around in the waiting area until you got the message and left of your own accord. But now that you, and especially Mr. Taylor here, have saved the day, the Hospice in general, and the patients of Ward 12A in particular, I can’t really say no, can I?” Julien started to say something, but she talked right over him. “We can’t talk here. Too many security cameras and far too many eyes and ears. We’ll talk in my office.”