She reaches through the spaces between them to touch the plywood sheeting. And there, on the very end of her slender fingers, she can feel the raindrops bounce against the other side of the board. The feeling of it works its way into the tips of her fingers, working its way up her arms, and it doesn’t stop until it reaches her pounding heart. She feels rejuvenated and hopeful for her future.
She stands, swaying, from side-to-side until early morning. Her legs cramp terribly after the first few hours, but thankfully she’s lost the feeling in them. They’re all numb and tingling.
She experiences the storm raging through the vibrations in the wood window-covering, the smell of rain in the air and the sound of quaking thunder shakes her to her roots.
Rose never stops smiling, and she sings a happy song under her breath, so the green men can’t hear, about a rainy day. She must have learned the song, a long time ago, when she was very little; about sweet raindrops falling on her window sill.
Tomorrow she could be a monster again, to satisfy the green men’s need for something to hate. For now, she’s satisfied just being a happy little girl, loving the rain, even if the drops would soon turn to blood.
Chapter Five
“Some ghosts are so quiet, you would hardly know they were there.”
Dr. Merna Valentine is sick. Plain and simple. Sick and tired of the whole, god damned, situation. Literally… nauseous to her stomach; ulcers boring into her gastric lining. Her nerves are transformed into little white-hot pokers looking for a route to burn their way out of her body.
She’s had way too much of the thick, instant, sludge they call coffee around here, at scenic Camp Abel. Thanks to the Turned she can’t go to a local diner for a cup of the good stuff; the slow-brewed stuff, dripping golden-brown, drop by drop into the pot. The liquid black-gold flowing down a throat like a fountain of youth. The crap here slides down like a reluctant luke-warm mudslide.
The end-of-the-world presented itself in a whole different kind of package than the one she had expected. No split-second flash of light. It was supposed to come faster than the blink of an eye, quicker than a thief in the night. There was no legion of mighty angels. No flapping wings of holy hosts. No throne floating down with Christ Almighty to judge and rule, tossing demons and evil-doers into the bottomless sin-encrusted pit, smoking with brimstone, and searing sinners in the heat of everlasting torment.
Instead, it came with all the pomp and circumstance of stepping in a wet pile of cat vomit.
The fire and brimstone portion of the end-of-the-world, and the releasing of every evil thing from the depths of Hades came a short time after. The end is tangible, and the Turned are its ambassadors.
The base, while not entirely deserted, feels as if it were, especially at this late hour. Dr. Valentine’s rounds still need to be completed, but the wooziness and nausea brought on by too much-concentrated caffeine, gulped down much too quickly, causes her to consider skipping them altogether; just for the time being. But still, she needs some exercise to reduce the effects of what may be a moderate caffeine overdose, so she walks to the hospital wing. It’s 0130 hours.
All the lights are out. The generator is shut down promptly at 2100 hours every night. After that, the fuel is only used to power essential areas of the base, like the fence parameter and the guard houses. There are times that Major Connors will let his soldiers light up the rec hall, but not often, and only if it’s a good reason; to boost morale. To get people laid, and to get people drunk on homemade beer and wine. This measure helps to conserve fuel and increase productivity.
Dr. Valentine pulls a cheap chrome-plated flashlight from her lab coat pocket. She slides the flimsy narrow switch upward towards the bulb-end, and it comes on, shining dimly, but it’s better than a candle dripping wax all over her hand, or burning her hair on the flame. Tomorrow, perhaps, she can sweet talk Private Waters, the supply clerk, into giving her some fresher batteries. She may have to flirt again.
She places the flashlight upon her shoulder and holds steady by tilting her head, pinning it between her high cheekbone and her shoulder. The slight tilt of her head causes the vein-trolling, caffeine-induced dizziness to increase in intensity. She pushes through it.
She holds a clipboard in her hand as she uncaps an ink pen with her teeth. Thin lips closing around the cap, her tongue plays with the tip. Dr. Valentine likes the sensation, as the sharp tip scrapes across her taste buds. She sucks at the saliva gathering around the cap.
There’s no need to round on, R – Zero – One – E, tonight. She was taken to the operating room shortly after returning from this afternoon’s assessment session. So, she moves on to, R – Zero – Two – E, subject: Aster, and takes note of the observation which can only be made through the narrow window in the door.
Child: Aster, adolescent female age 10.
New behavior noted: Aster is in her room and standing at the window. The window is secure, boards are in place. The child doesn’t appear to be trying to escape. The child is motionless with face pressed against bars, reaching through to touch boards which are covering windows. The child’s not moving except for slight swaying from side to side. She doesn’t appear to be aware of my presence. Unusual. Aster typically notices my presence immediately. No further observation or interactions to note during rounding on child: Aster. --------------- Dr. Merna J. Valentine Ph.D.
She crosses the hall. When she peers into the room labeled, R – Zero – Seven – E, belonging to the subject named Ash, she is perplexed by her initial observation, but goes on to documents her findings.
Tuesday, May 26th, 1950, 0142 hours.
Child: Ash, preteen male age 8.
New behavior noted: Ash, standing in his room in front of the window. The window is secure, boards in place, he does not appear to be trying to escape. He is standing motionless with his face pressed against bars and reaching through them to touch the boards covering windows. Child not moving. Does not appear to be aware of my presence as he usually does. On previous visits, he has never failed to acknowledge my presence. No further observations or interactions to note during rounding on child: Ash. --------------- Dr. Merna J. Valentine Ph.D.
Coincidentally it’s nearly the same as the entry she made for Aster, word for word.
Major Connors will think she skipped the rounds and fudged the charts, but it can’t be helped. She turns back to cross the corridor to where Cane’s room is located.
Cane is engaged in the same behavior as Aster and Ash.
Improbable. This can’t be a coincidence.
She’s slightly unnerved by the uncanny similarity.
They can’t even see each other. There’re no visual cues to lead them to mimic the behavior of the other.
Her observations are consistent with each of the children. Every child exhibits the same collective response, though no child can see another.
The thunder booms outside. Dr. Valentine, startled by the suddenness of the noise, jumps. The fear settles into her legs. She temporarily loses the feeling in them.
Sliding over to Hawthorne’s room, she observes the same behavior before crossing the hall to another occupied room, again the same reaction, and another room… the same…. The findings are consistent.