“Sir?”
There were hands on him. A lot of hands.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
He tried to fight them off, but they kept coming.
“Alright, strap him down. Somebody get me some Haldol!”
Heavy weights fell on his arms and legs. Lights shone in his face, too bright for him to fully open his eyes. He was fading again, the yelling around him distorting like a warped record.
Marcus groaned and tried to put his hand up to block the terrible bright lights, but found neither would move more than a couple of inches in either direction. He blinked hard, forcing his eyes open. A hospital. He wasn’t dead.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
His head snapped to the side where a woman sat on a stool beside his bed, writing on a clipboard. She hadn’t looked up at him yet, but judging by the white coat and scrubs, she was some sort of doctor.
“I’m told you ran into a light pole.” She glanced up over the clipboard and tapped her forehead with her pen. “Nasty little gash. Seemed to be the least of your problems, though. Can you give me your name?”
He laid his head back and shook his head. “Do I have a choice?” Marcus grumbled.
“Not really.” She said honestly. “The cops will eventually come back to talk to you, so I can get it from them.”
He sighed and closed his eyes again. “Marcus Tenneson.”
“Tenneson? Any relation to Calliope?”
“My sister. Please don’t call her.” He looked over at her again, wincing. “I just need to get patched up, then I’ll deal with the police.”
She chuckled and nodded. “Well, I’ve got a classic ‘good news, bad news’ situation for you here, Marcus Tenneson.” She rolled the stool over to his side and lifted his hospital gown to look at his leg, not nearly as bothered as he was that he was completely nude beneath.
“Good news, you’re all fixed up and we can discharge you after a couple more tests. Bonus good news, one-car accidents with clean tox screens and a driver under obvious duress…I’d guess you’ll get out of it with a fine and sent on your way. Should really have called an ambulance.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Bad news?”
“Bad news, you’ve got a serious concussion. So, you don’t get to just walk out of here by yourself.” She grabbed his hand and turned it over, peeling away a bandage to reveal the stitched up wound in the center of his palm. The purple was gone, but it still looked wrong somehow. “Gonna need somebody to come pick you up.”
“Is that really necessary? I’m obviously not going to be driving.”
“No, you are not.” She said with a laugh that surprised him. “And yes, it is.”
Marcus glanced up at her. There had to be a way out of this. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“You can call me Dr. Monroe.” She said, giving him a brief glance as she picked up the clipboard again and started writing. “And don’t even try it. I remember you now.” She said, a sly smile playing on her lips.
“Try what?”
“The smooth guy routine.” Her pen made a circular motion in the direction of his face. “You’re cute, but not lose-my-job cute.”
“I’d never consider it.” He lied.
“Uhuh.” She finished writing on the clipboard and moved to hang it on the foot of his bed where she dug out a few pictures. “I’ve seen a lot of pretty gross things in my line of work. This one might take the cake, though.” She sat down on the stool and turned the first picture to show him.
Two separate tentacle-like parasites sat side by side in a metal tray the size of a cookie sheet, blood red and branching out like the roots of a tree. The same things that were in Yuri’s hands. “Definitely gross.” He tried to stay calm, but the monitor above his head, reading his heart rate, sold him out.
“Any idea how they got inside you?”
“Don’t suppose you’ll believe me if I say, I don’t?” He looked up to gauge her incredulous look.
“Nope, but if that’s the story you’re going to go with, I won’t argue with you.” She sat the photos down on his side table and scooted closer to look down at him, the playful demeanor in her eyes dropping for something far more serious. “What I will tell you is this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this type of thing. It is the first time the host was living, though. I would appreciate any information, so the next one gets to be as alive as you.”
Marcus bit his lip and turned his head to look up at the ceiling. What was he supposed to tell her? He killed a guy with tentacle hands, and now he had worms in his blood. “If I think of anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
Dr. Monroe pursed her lips, watching him for a few seconds before nodding. “Alright, fair enough. Figure out who you want me to call, and I’ll go check on your test results.” She said backing out of the room.
The police arrived before he could finish making what was a more complicated decision than it should have been. They conducted a brief interview, gave him the number for the tow company that took his totaled truck, and issued him a ticket for destruction of public property. All-in-all, it could have been much worse.
“So,” Dr. Monroe entered the room again after the police left. “Tests came back clean, no more parasites. You do have an iron deficiency, but considering the little guys were in your blood, that’s to be expected.” She scribbled on her pad, then sat the prescription on the bedside table before taking off the restraints finally. “Sending you home with some heavy duty iron supplements. You decide to call your sister yet?”
“I’d really prefer not to. Can I just call a taxi or something?”
“Nope,” She shook her head. “Need somebody to sign you out.” She plopped down on the wheeled stool again after releasing his wrists and ankles and handed him the clear bag with his clothes. “You mind if I ask you why you don’t wanna contact your family? You were in pretty bad shape. Usually the first people patients want to contact.”
Marcus fished through the bag, pulling out his hoodie and pants. “I’m not gonna dump my baggage on a stranger, no offense.”
“Weirdly enough, I appreciate that.” She wheeled around and grabbed his chart to write something on it. “Still doesn’t solve our little problem, though.”
Marcus reached up to feel the bandage on his head and sighed. “Fine, can I borrow your pen?” He took the clipboard and pen from her and wrote down a number for her to call.
###
Victoria stepped into his room a half hour later, walking up to his bed and glaring down at him. “You alright?”
“I’m fine, I wouldn’t have bothered you if..”
She held a hand to his face to silence him and looked over at Dr. Monroe. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, I like you..” she said softly before looking to Marcus. “I need your permission before I can disclose any of your medical information to her.”
“Yeah, go ahead.” Marcus grumbled.
“He’s got a concussion,” she pointed to his hand “Also had a couple of nasty parasites I needed to remove, but otherwise he’s fine.”
“Parasites? That from you traipsing around in the woods like you’re Bear Grylls?”
“You didn’t tell me you were out in the woods? For how long?” Dr. Monroe raised an eyebrow.
“It doesn’t matter. That’s not where they’re from. Look, can I go now?” Marcus said, pulling off the monitors and swinging his legs off the bed.
“Lay down.” Victoria put her hand on his chest. The contact feeling electric to him even though he knew she hadn’t meant it to be. “You know where they came from?”
Marcus rolled his eyes and laid back sideways on the hospital bed, his head hanging off the other side immediately making him a little dizzy. “I…No, no I don’t.”
“Then why couldn’t they be from you eating something funky in the woods?” Victoria snapped at him.
“Because they can’t, okay? Doc, can I go, please?”
Dr. Monroe walked around the bed and handed Victoria her card. “If you can get him to tell you where the parasite came from, I would love to know. Otherwise, you all are good to go.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Marcus waved his hand, but didn’t bother getting up. He heard Dr. Monroe’s footsteps leaving the room.
Victoria threw a change of clothes on his stomach. “Go get changed before I decide to beat your ass right here.”
“Yes, boss.” He slowly sat up, blinking a few times to try to clear the dizziness, then disappeared into the bathroom.
The two of them walked out to her car in silence. The moment he sat down in the passenger seat, she wheeled around and slugged him in the chest from the awkward angle.
“What the fuck?” He grabbed his chest. “I’m still recovering.” He whined, rubbing his chest.
“You should get worse than that!” She snapped at him. “I need an explanation.”
Marcus shook his head and reached for the door handle again. “Fucking…” He groaned as Victoria hit him the chest again.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting out. You got me checked out, I can walk.” Marcus said, testing the boundaries again by reaching for the handle, but she just hit him again. “Stop!”
“You’re not getting out of this car.”
“You can’t keep me in here.”
“Wanna test that theory?” she glared at him. “Put your fucking seatbelt on.” She said, starting the car. After a few minutes of driving, she spoke again. “Your dad called me. Told me it was very important I go to their house after work. Any ideas what that might be about?” Victoria asked, not looking over at him.
“Couldn’t even venture a guess.” Marcus grumbled. Of course he knew, but he wasn’t telling her anything.
“Right, and I don’t suppose you know anything about me getting promoted, either? Or the fact that Grant was shitting his pants when he did it?”
“Can’t say I do.” Marcus looked out the window as they passed the freeway entrance. “Where are you taking me?”
“I told you, your dad called.”
“No, Victoria.” Marcus turned in his seat to look right at her. “Do not take me there.”
“Why?” she smirked.
“I can’t…” He swallowed and bit into his lip, dragging it between his teeth. “Please.” His voice cracked despite himself, and his heart pounded in his chest. “Take me anywhere else.”
She shook her head and glanced over at him. “Gonna need some more convincing than that.”
“What do you want? I’ll do anything. Please…”
“Okay, did Kane find you?”
Fuck. He sighed and slumped back into his seat. “Yes, he did.” Marcus’ voice came out suddenly weaker, resigned.
“So you got my letter. Not only did you get it, but you came back and decided I didn’t deserve anything. No, hello. No, go fuck yourself. Nothing?”
“I didn’t want to burden you with me.” He mumbled.
Her hand raised like she was going to hit him again, but her muscles tensed and she growled before gripping the wheel more firmly. She took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “I don’t know what doom and gloom, self-pity spiral you’re in right now, but I need you to figure your shit out.”
She got onto the freeway, still not heading in the direction of his apartment. “You’re going to stay with me, and I don’t wanna hear a damn word about it. The shit is about to hit the fan, and I don’t need you doing anything stupid. Not without me to help you.”
Marcus’ face twisted. “What do you mean?”
“Somebody burnt down the Arcanex facility. They issued a statement saying it was the… children of whatever. The group that took blame for what you did in Colorado.”
He struggled to keep his expression unreadable. That was a hell of a coincidence. Somebody burnt the place down, right after he looted it?
“What’s this?” she gestured at his face with spread fingers.
“Just…surprised. Didn’t think they were into arson.” He swallowed hard, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.
“They’re not, especially when there are animals in the facility.” She shook her head. “Its bullshit, but I don’t know what actually happened, so I can’t really do anything about it.”
Victoria pulled into the drive of a nice little house right off the freeway. “Come on, let’s get you set up.” She ushered him out of the car, where the house struck him by just how not Victoria it was.
It was yellow. Soft and weatherworn, the kind that made you think of front porch lemonade and a good book. A bench swing creaked in the breeze, hanging on chains that had obviously been replaced recently. She unlocked the door without a word and Marcus crept behind her, like he was entering something forbidden.
The smell of lavender and lemon hit him first. The real stuff, like when his mother would hand wash the baseboards despite the fact that she could just use magic to do it.
The entryway had a little bench with Vicky carved into the back of it. Above it was a set of wall hangers, each with the same hand that carved the bench. Vicky. Mom. Dad. Guest . She dropped her keys in a basket beside a picture of what he assumed was her parents and her when she was a little girl. She was in a bright floral dress, her father in dress blues.
“Shoes.” She nodded at the little shelves about knee height beside the door. She pulled off her boots and stuck them on the top, and wandered off past the living room into the kitchen.
Marcus pulled off his own shoes, setting them on the shelf next to hers, and looked around the room. It was like whoever decorated the house used to be a completely different person, and never figured out how to get rid of it after they changed.
On one wall, industrial shelving held sparring gear, dumbbells, and a backpack he could only imagine was full of basic survival gear. But the rest of the room? There was a hand-carved oak coffee table in front of a plush couch. The center of the table, a wicker bowl full of glass beads. Useless, decorative, and untouched.
A ceramic angel sat above a fireplace, its head glued back on with clumsy dedication. To either side of it, a slew of photos. People who looked a little like Victoria, but none of them were.
“Come on.” She stuck her head around the wall where she’d disappeared into the kitchen.
It was almost worse. The kitchen had high-end, state-of-the-art appliances. It was organized with military precision. Everything labeled, the spices seemed to be organized alphabetically, and there was an inventory on a dry erase board on the fridge. But right next to it, a cute little corkboard that didn’t get the memo. A faded grocery list in bubbly cursive, some kind of recipe for a berry crumble, and a little note in the corner: Don’t forget! Friday is Vicky’s birthday!
Marcus stared at the note for a second longer than he’d meant to.
Victoria pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and offered it to him. “Spare room is right down that hallway.” She pointed behind him, but he didn’t look. “Make yourself at home, try not to dig around in my shit.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” He said quietly, looking over at the kitchen window, curtains bright blue with yellow roses printed on them.
“There are extra blankets in the closet, plenty of food, but make sure you mark it off the list if you eat anything.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at the fridge where she turned to deduct one water from the inventory. “I’m gonna head to your parents. If you run off, I’ll murder you.”
Marcus dropped onto one of the kitchen chair, nodding in defeat and exhaustion. “Fine, just…don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
Victoria didn’t respond, just walked toward the door. She glanced over her shoulder at him through the doorway, her gaze lingering for a moment before closing it behind her.
He stared down into the laminate flooring. The home felt foreign to him, not just because he’d never been in it. Something in the warmth and safety that surrounded him in the awkwardly decorated world he’d entered felt wrong. Unearned.