When We Were Still Human Read online

  A

  Eulogy

  for Our Humanity

  When We Were Still Human

  By

  Vaughn A. Foster JR

  ©Vaughn A. Foster Jr.

  Published by

  Your Favorite Uncle, LLC

  P.O. Box 104

  Martins Ferry, Ohio 43935

  to Kara

  Table of Contents

  Part I: Insatiable

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Interlude

  Part II: A Smile Carved in Blood

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Part III: Paradise

  Interlude

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Outerlude

  About the Author

  1236 A.D.

  What I am about to suggest may sound cruel. By the third race, our actions will be considered wicked. I swear on the Creator, inaction would be far worse. In our slothfulness we ignored the actions of Daemon. In our lust and greed for perfection, we let the Natural Order fall. Despite humanity’s weakness, we envied their creativity. When they proved they were beyond saving, we departed and lived as gluttons in the magnificence of Le Ciel. In our pride, we refused to see what was becoming of the world we abandoned, and now in our wrath, at both ourselves and a fallen creation, we shall make amends.

  Cleansing this world with fire, and perhaps achieving godhood ourselves, we will start anew.

  ~Michael. First son of Reign.

  Part I:

  Insatiable

  The Angels lie, and you are their fifth transgression

  They are coming, but we will save you from the saviors

  Close your mind and open your soul

  Chapter 1

  July, 2019 AD

  “It’s okay, sir,” Val soothed, trying to calm him down. The man had been ranting nonstop since he stumbled into the ER, and twenty minutes later, the nurse still hadn’t come back. The real nurse. Not Valerie Stevens. Not the almost-nurse who was still in the middle of practicum. The pile-up on I-72 had scattered everyone throughout the hospital and left Val to attempt to handle the situation.

  “What’s okay?!” the patient screeched. He lashed out and yanked her close. A scream started then died in her throat as she fought to break free. “The shadows!” he roared. “Pl-pleas—just let it end. G-get it out of me! I- I would rather die, I didn’t ask for this!”

  Val could feel her heart blasting in her chest. Hard enough to rip free of its tendons, break through the layers of rib, and sternum, and pectoralis major until it burst from its cage. She met his wild, pleading eyes. They were looking for something. Safety. Understanding. Belief.

  She looked away.

  “Sir,” she breathed, forcing the syllable into existence. “Can you please let go of my arm?”

  “Oh my god, you stupid girl!” She flinched, expecting him to strike out. Instead, his grip got tighter, if it was even possible. “Can’t you understand the situation you’re putting me in?!”

  Val gulped. Any cry for help was locked in her throat by fear. She stole another glance at the curtain, but no one came. The intercom was still barking orders and updates, and she could hear the staff rushing between the other rooms. How had no one heard him? The second the real nurse left, the guy just snapped. The man had gone from whimpering in pain to violent in the blink of an eye.

  Sweat poured off his face in sheets. His chest heaved and the stench of cigarette smoke flooded her nostrils.

  “I- I understand,” Val stammered, hoping for some stride in calming him down. For a second, his grip relaxed, and she furthered her effort to follow his ravings. “Please, walk me through what happened again.”

  He threw her hand aside and grabbed his head in frustration.

  “I already told you!” He kicked down on the mattress then winced at the movement. “The nosferatu—”

  “Yes, sir,” Val said quickly, stepping around the bed so they were eye to eye. His red jacket was dirty and worn and his face resembled an ashen mask more than it did skin. Whatever was wrong, it was getting worse. She swallowed the bubbling fear; he had to come first. “I’m just not sure what a nosfer—”

  “I’m so sorry for the wait,” a man's voice quipped. Tyler, the head nurse on shift, entered the small room with one of the aides—Dillon—close on his heels.

  “Good god, finally, someone competent,” the man growled through clenched teeth. His eyes met Val’s with a cold glare before shifting his attention. “You gotta help me, Doc.” He shakily tried to rise to his feet but fell back against the mattress.

  The nurse’s presence renewed some of Val’s courage. She glanced across the room and met Dillon’s eyes. He gave her a look that said:

  Don’t do anything stupid. Let Tyler handle this.

  She contemplated listening. She would have been more than content to just walk out, grab her stuff, and leave Tyler to handle this mess.

  Another whimper of pain broke the air, and her attention was yanked back to the man on the bed. She had to stick it out. There wouldn’t be any opportunities to skip over difficult patients in the real world.

  “Please, sir, try to stay down,” she said, going to his side. His neck started to twitch and his fingers scratched furiously at the sheets.

  “Get it out!”

  Val started back, the momentary burst of courage already deceased. Sheepishly, she stole a glance at Dillon. Thankfully, his attention was too fixed on the patient. His legs and shoulders were tensed, but he didn’t move an inch from his corner.

  Concern creased Tyler’s brow as his mind seemed to race through the numerous possibilities of what they were looking at. “Can you tell me what’s going on here?” he asked Val.

  She handed him the original prognosis. “He says something bit him, and now there’s something inside of him.”

  Tyler scanned the pages from the first nurse, wrinkled his brow, then set the clipboard onto the side table. He slowly approached the man, took a deep breath, then smiled. “My name is Tyler. I’m a nurse here. We’re going to get this taken care of, okay? Val said something bit you?”

  “Do I have to tell you people again?! Just get it out!” The man leapt up and landed a fist square on Tyler’s cheek.

  Val screamed. In a grotesque, owlish way, the patient’s neck snapped to the side as he eyed her over. Then he took a step. It was like a marionette maneuvered by an incredibly poor puppeteer, limbs flailing about, feet dragging in a disturbed, shuffling fashion. Dillon lunged across the room, but the man shoved Val to the ground. Her head slammed against the side table and everything started to spin. She strained to see Tyler staggering to his feet and the aide tackling the man to the floor. More aides finally rushed into the room and subdued him onto the bed.

  “You’re with him!” he shrieked. “The shadow! You’ve killed me!”

  Blessedly restrained, the man still flailed against the bindings. “I swear to god, I’ll gut all of you the way you’ve done me! I’ll kill you!”

  The overhead light stabbed into Val’s eyes like white needles. She covered her face and tried to block out the room, but everything was still w
hite.

  Sound.

  Everything was muffled, and loud, and intense, and twisted together. Somehow, over the pandemonium, she made out a voice. Dillon was talking to her. He sounded distant, but something about her head… A hand slowly helped her to her feet, then another found her back. Another set of hands appeared and she was ushered out of the room—all while the man continued to scream.

  “Nosferatu! I’ll kill you all! I’ll kill every last one of you!”

  Val stared at her reflection, adjusting the white gauze wrapped around her forehead.

  “Dad, it’s fine,” she said into her headphones. Stepping away from the glass, she lowered herself to the floor to peer under the bed.

  She almost wished she had never set up Emergency Contacts. Thankfully, Jason was still in Australia and without an international plan. If the hospital had called him first, she’d never get to sleep. Notwithstanding, she’d still been on the phone with her dad for two hours. Her mother, thankfully, had been more reserved.

  “Get some rest, okay? Promise me you won’t go trying to run a marathon.”

  And then she went to bed. Paul Stephens on the other hand…

  “I know, hon,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I just can’t believe something like this even happened.”

  Val’s father had been set to drive to her apartment in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, but a blown tire had delayed him long enough for Val to get her phone and dissuade him.

  “Like I told you,” she said, relieved to hear the fight leave his voice, “it wasn’t that bad. He seemed more scared than anything else. It wasn’t intentional. The worst part by far was all the paperwork.”

  “I bet,” he said with a sigh. “How is this gonna affect you getting the rest of your hours?”

  “Not significantly.” Moving the mass of shoes, boxes, and old t-shirts out of the way, Val straightened herself out and turned her attention to the closet. She shifted through more clothes until finally spotting a fuzzy purple object. Triumphantly, she yanked the missing slipper from the suffocating black hole.

  The room was always an incarnate war between order and chaos; OCD vs reality. On a perfect day, every book was aligned by the author’s last name on its shelf. Clothes were folded and/or hung by color and season. She crinkled her nose at a long-buried Chinese takeout container peeking from beneath overdue laundry. Reality had won this week’s battle.

  “If it's Wednesday now, then they just want me to take the rest of the week off,” said Val, brushing black hair from her eyes. “But I’m good to go back Monday. I’ll probably grab my stuff tomorrow, but that’s about it.”

  “Mm. Sounds good.”

  Val could practically see her father nodding his head, then characteristically, wiping his eyes to pretend he was wide awake.

  “Dad. It’s almost midnight. Get some rest, okay?”

  “Just ‘cause Mom’s a lightweight doesn’t mean I’ll tap out so easily. You sure you’re alright?”

  She crossed her arms. “I am. And I’ll be even better when I know you guys got a good night’s sleep before driving home tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, because playing Scrabble for your aunt’s 80th was sooo taxing.” Even as he said it, his hearty laugh was cut short by a yawn. “Huh, maybe you’re right, sweetheart. I know you were supposed to come up, but stay put until the weekend. I still don’t know how I feel about you driving out here right away.”

  “Mmhmm. Night, Dad.”

  “Goodnight.”

  With a sigh, Val plopped onto the mattress and scooted back to the pillows. She smirked as she kicked off the slippers, having gone through all the trouble to find them only to take them off. At least she’d have both of them in the morning.

  She leaned back and again tried to imagine what Jason’s reaction would have been to the fiasco. He worked for a graphic design company that was trying to land a contract with some Australian media group. While she typically hated his absence, today it was a miracle his promotion sent him afar. If he was home and heard what happened, the man would have torn into the hospital like a lion, grabbed the first patient that looked the slightest bit deranged, and pinned the guy to a wall. He was the most pacifistic person in the world until someone touched his girlfriend. Or his dog. No one touched Fiona and lived.

  A smile crept across Val’s face, but it quickly faded. In the quiet, the memory of that day drifted to the surface. She’d messed up.

  Fingernails dug into her palms as everything she should have done danced defiantly in her mind. The guy had scared her, and she let that fear show on her face which only terrified him more. She’d then tried burying the fear and foolishly tried to touch him. Because of that, she had a concussion, and Tyler, a black eye.

  She closed her eyes and took a steady breath. Failure couldn’t be an option for her. Her parents had sacrificed too much.

  Then came memories of the panic attacks, the groveling and begging for extensions and grace.

  She had sacrificed too much.

  Thursday morning, Val strode into the hospital with fast food in tow. Megan’s shift ended later than expected—something about a patient not wanting to change clothes. In comparison, Val’s practicum days were relatively uneventful. Until yesterday, the worst that had come through the E.R. during her shift was a kid with three broken bones. Megan, however, was a magnet for disaster. every day.

  Val sidestepped around a man in a wheelchair, then entered the outdoor seating area past the cafeteria. She found her friends sitting at the far end then made her way across the maze of tables and chairs. The contractor had obviously been distracted. Walking space was nonexistent on crowded days. Even so, there thankfully weren’t too many people eating on a Wednesday afternoon.

  “My savior!” Britt exclaimed, jumping up to snatch the bag of holy sustenance.

  “Glad to see you too,” Val laughed. In minutes, burgers, fries, salads and the rest of the orders were spread across the table.

  “I am so hungry,” Megan mumbled between bites. “Val, how’s your head? I heard about what happened yesterday.”

  Britt set down her food and looked her over. “Yeah, some guy pushed you?”

  It hit like a blow. Another reminder of her private shortcomings. Quickly gauzing the emotional wound, Val grinned and pointed to the bandage. “Just a scratch.” A partial truth. The cut was just short of needing stitches, but she couldn’t really feel anything. A miracle, the nurse who patched her up had said.

  “The paperwork was awful, but that was about it.”

  Megan winced. “I can imagine. I cut my finger on some piece of equipment my first week, and the vultures in HR were pressing me like a police investigation.”

  “What was his issue anyway?” Britt squeezed an ample amount of Italian dressing over her salad then looked up.

  “I don’t even know…” Val shook her head, then unwrapped her burger. “He said something bit him, and there was something in him, but his tests had come back fine, and he started talking crazy, and—” She took a deep breath then threw up her hands in defeat.

  “Hmm...” Megan bit her lip. “Did he say what? If it was a widow or maybe even a rattlesnake then he’d definitely lose it.”

  “Not a snake or spider.” Val crumpled up the burger wrapper then reached into the bag for a chicken sandwich. “Or at least any that I’ve heard of. He said it was a… nosferatu?”

  “He was nuts,” Megan said with an affirmative nod.

  “Straight shot to psych ward,” Britt confirmed.

  Val stared at them incredulously. “What?”

  Britt swallowed then took a sip of her water. “Nosferatu means vampire.”

  Megan shrugged. "Hey, at least he wasn't crying ghoul! Now that would have been alarming."

  "You mean ghost?" Val questioned.

  "Nope." Britt shook her head. "Ghouls are monsters that live in graveyards and eat human flesh."

  “Which you would know if you had made it to any of our old movie nights at Eric’s,” Megan
added.

  “Well, excuse me for actually wanting to pass this semester.” Val took a defiant sip then set her cup down. “And I’ve gone a few times.”

  It wasn’t that she hated horror or fantasy games—they were fun every now and then. Britt and Megan were just obsessed. They’d gone all in with a club that some of the new security guys had started and, consequently, signed away a significant portion of their free time. She had no idea how Megan hadn’t failed out of the program. Britt was a bit more controlled, given that she had a kid. But with her husband roped into the club as well, Val had to wonder how everyone managed to stay employed.

  “But anyway, yeah, it was really strange… I just hope he gets himself figured out. But enough about me.” Val slammed her hands on the table, startling the other two, then grinned. “What did I miss this morning? I was told something about a difficult patient?”

  Megan didn’t waste a second. “You won’t believe this woman!” Her fist clenched into a choking motion. “I go in, all cheery-eyed and helpful. ‘Hey, ma’am, is it alright if I help you get dressed’ and she’s like 'no!'”

  “Well,” Britt said thoughtfully, “maybe she just wanted to get dressed without some twenty-something feeling her up. I made that mistake when I was your age...” She said the last part in her “old-woman” voice. Whenever she could lord her seven-years seniority over them she took it.

  Megan laughed and rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Britt, you’re only thirty. And no, she could not manage on her own.”

  Val raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue, then leaned forward. “Oh, do tell.”

  “She’s got her head stuck in a sleeve, waddling around the room like a blind penguin. Lamp crashes, knocks over a chair, then she screams when I got close to help. Then the real nurse, Sara, comes in. Now the lady’s sweet as can be. ‘Yes, I’d like some assistance. Thank you so much.’ Thank you so much, my ass.”

  Val and Britt exploded into laughter. “You really do have the worst luck here,” Britt managed between breaths.