Young Writers Society

The outskirts of downtown Jordan Heights were practically barren. Blake spotted two people around the sidewalks of some shops, but they disappeared before he could get very close. The townspeople had become exceptionally cautious it appeared, or were already sick somehow. Or, they were fearful for themselves or their friends and family.

Despite his determination and knowing where he was headed, his mind was still a wreck. He nearly fell face first on the ground had his legs not caught up to him, and the scythe about slipped out of his grasp multiple times while running....even if he almost lost his balance because of the weight when turning a corner.

He did not know exactly, but Blake was sure the hospital had to be less than five minutes away by now. He didn't know what would happen once he reached his destination, but he was desperate. All the while the strange man's ominous words kept replaying in his head as he ran.

You can see them also...Who in your lineage was marked by darkness?...You have a predecessor who will know...whatever reason he protects this town, we will destroy it...I will start with them, and those already bound by affliction will be next.

He had far more questions than answers. And whatever happened in the church, whatever that man did, was a horrifying memory that made his stomach twist and churn. He tried to shake the images out of his mind, but it only kept replaying, over and over again.

His throat tightened. No, he told himself. No, don't get sick now...

Blake turned one more corner, and observed the top of the hospital building just a few blocks away. He dare not breath with relief; his heart still pounded with panic and fear.

He was running at top speed when making his way across the parking lot. But the small crowd of people gathered near the entrance made him skid to a halt. He gasped for air only a little as he stopped, but his lungs adjusted before long. He kept the scythe behind his back and carefully stepped towards the group. While a few briefly glanced his way, none made any comments or question towards him.

"We are limited with letting people in, we're overcrowded as is!"

"Sir, you've already seen your wife twice this week, we don't want you getting sick!"

Blake propped himself on his tiptoes and looked around. More than a dozen people tried getting into the hospital, and only two staff attempted to prevent that. Some of the townsfolk wore some kind of face mask, others didn't. While glancing at the crowd Blake suddenly dropped down as he saw a familiar gruff-looking face. June's father. I can't let him see me...

A breeze picked up as the cloud cover above intensified. Realizing what he wore, Blake pulled the hoodie over his head so his face could not be easily seen by his neighbor.

June's father stood on the other side of the crowd, and the hospital staff member closest to Blake, a woman with two face masks on it looked like, was merely trying to keep the crowd back. He took his chance and crept towards the front of the crowd, coming in from the side so he did not have to wind around people all weird with his scythe still clutched. As soon as his gaze locked with hers, he spoke.

"I...I was hoping...to see my mother?"

The woman had a glazed look in her eyes. She did not appear sick otherwise, but exhaustion certainly floated around in their hazel depths.

"You could be at higher risk due to your age," she finally said, her tone full of such disheartened regret. "If you had another parent who could-"

"I don't have another parent," Blake quickly interrupted, feeling his chest tighten and his voice falter. "It's just me and my mom. But I'm not sick, and neither is she! She's just weak and tired and separated from everyone else because she's not sick! Please, I have to see her!"

The woman merely stared at him for another moment, but then her eyes slowly widened. She eyed the ground, and set her sights back on his face. Then strangely, she knelt down to him a little.

"You mean Alisha? You're the one who called?"

Blake was astonished he was face to face with the woman he'd initially contacted from the hospital. He figured she was just a nurse or receptionist, not out here on the front lines. But he had to set that aside and nodded his head to respond to her. "Yeah. My name's Blake. Blake Douglas."

The staffwoman turned her head a moment, stared at the ground again, and then a glint of determination revealed itself in her eyes. In a low voice she said, "Head to the side of the building. Be discrete. I'll meet you at that door in a few minutes, and we'll get you decontaminated. Okay?" Her eyes darted towards Blake's right in a brief flash before she stood up again and backed up.

The astonishment remained on Blake's face still. Why would she choose to secretly help him? Everyone else was just as desperate as he was, and they didn't even know what he knew. But if he was being given a chance, he could not pass it up, nor did he want to question it right now. He very slowly backed away after giving the woman a subtle nod. She spoke to the other staffperson in a hushed voice, while Blake continued stepping away from the crowd and ensuring no one paid attention. With care, he began making his way towards the side of the hospital the lady had indicated. Before he casually disappeared around the corner, Blake looked and noticed only one staff member stood in front of the hospital doors now.

The side of the building was quieter, almost desolate, with only a few doors along its wall. Blake attempted to pull on the handle of the door closest to him but it would not budge. And so he waited. The hand holding the scythe shook a little, though after a couple of long breaths of air his hand did manage to relax somewhat.

Some seconds later, a click and a squeak caught Blake's attention as the door opened wide, revealing the woman from the entrance. With her hands she ushered him inside, and in the most careful way possible Blake entered and ensured the scythe did not collide with the doorway in any fashion. The door closed, and she locked it behind them.

"All right," she finally said. "If you want to see your mother follow all my instructions for preventative procedures, understood?"

Blake nodded tersely as she rattled off instructions on cleanliness and limitations, or something like that. He barely found a brief moment to lean the scythe up against a nearby sink before he washed his hands for over a minute, let the woman take his temperature, and answer a series of questions related to symptoms and visiting procedures. Afterwards she gave him a face mask, a surgical cap, shoe covers, and a blue gown just a bit too big for him. The moment she looked away to do something, Blake reached over and grabbed the scythe. She'd said nothing unordinary, but that did not stop him from holding his breath.

"Follow me."

That single command sent his heart racing. Blake followed the woman down the hospital hallway and soon as they reached some kind of lobby, he observed a throng of people that crowded the walls and floors. Some were nurses or residents, but most looked to be ordinary citizens and patients. Many appeared sick, some appeared worse than others: pale faces, hobbled figures, and the smells of vomit and blood were uncomfortable but bearable. With difficulty he stuck right behind the woman as she led them toward a staircase.

"The first floor is primarily for the lobby, incoming patients, and surgeries," she explained as they climbed a flight of stairs, exiting through the second floor entranceway. "Your mother is being held on this floor, sequestered from the serious cases."

Even so this floor was also a mess. Men, women, adults, children, seniors, so many people were strewn about on beds and in rooms; some were even slumped at the floors. Some had masks but most coughed or talked with staff. Confusion and fear permeated the very air, and Blake kept his chin down, not wanting to look at anyone to keep his own emotions in check. No one paid him any mind it seemed, but his chest remained tight the entire walkway.

No wonder they don't want anyone in here, he realized in a horrified disbelief. I wish I wasn't seeing this.

"Here."

Broken out of his slight trance, Blake let the woman lead him to a closed off room that was completely silent as soon as they entered. A figure lay in a hospital bed, unmoving, with tubes in both their mouth and nostrils. A nearby heart monitor chirped, slowly, every beat leaving another pang in his chest. She'd always been tired, weak, sickly...but Blake had never seen his mother in this state.

The staffwoman reached for the clipboard attached to the end of the hospital bed and looked it over as Blake trudged towards the head of the cot. "She was last conscious about two days ago, but even then it wasn't for long. Her oxygen intake was lower than normal, and the hospital has been giving her small amounts..."

His ears shut off completely after that. When he finally made it to the side of the bed, all he could do was stare. She lay very still except for the slight rise and fall of her chest, and the thinness of her face was very apparent and startling. Was this change in appearance recent...or had she always looked like this? Thin, pale, so devoid of emotion; fear crept up his spine once he concluded that he did not actually know the answer. His arms fell towards his sides, and a strange sense of both limpness and stiffness overcame his entire body. He barely heard the gentle clang as the tip of the scythe's blade tapped the floor.

"...you alone for the time being; I want to check on other patients."

Blake barely caught those words and in his periphery noticed the woman leaving the room and closing the sliding door behind her. Soon the room fell deathly quiet, save for some muffled murmurs and machines tuning away outside. Blake silently ordered himself to stop shaking numerous times; he finally acted on it by leaning the scythe against a nearby wall, with the blade portion on the bottom. He shakily pulled at a nearby chair and sat down as close to the bed as he could get. His chin could lay on the pastel green bed sheets, but he couldn't even reach out for her hand, too stunned by everything to move a muscle.

This silent moment with his unconscious mother finally sent the emotions spinning in a chaotic vortex within his mind. His lips quivered, a pain tightened his chest, and his voice wavered as he quietly released his thoughts out.

"Mom...please. I'm so sorry I didn't say anything, and now I can't..." He took in a few breaths of air in hopes of calming himself, but to no avail. "Please, Mom. I need you so much right now. Don't...don't leave me...please don't leave......"