THAT FALL
8 - ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL

“You saw them glow, Wan!” Andre insisted as he attempted to share his delusion with her.

Struggling with prioritizing her concerns over Andre’s condition or his abandonment of his post, Wanda said, “I don’t know what I saw. Here’s what I think: We have a global issue, lasers shooting from ships and blowing up buildings.” She gestured to her computer screen that had been streaming the news before the internet and cell service went down. “And, here, we have contracted a virus. Reynolds and Krigare must be contagious.”

“They were glowing, Wanda,” Andre slammed his palm on her desk. Then, he went too far. “Reynolds says they can help us get pregnant.”

“Get out, Andre. I can’t even believe what just erupted from that mouth of yours. Just go,” she said as calmly as she could, gesturing to her office door. “I can’t stop you from joining them in this bullshit. And, now that I’m infected, too, all I can do is wait all this out.”

Andre’s shoulders slumped. He said, “You’re Head Nurse. I need you. You’re not coming to help?”

“Help with what? If you want my help, I want everyone, including you, on the second floor so I can take vitals and get you all stabilized. I want to contact PRGH and get some help.”

“We have no phones.”

“So, I’ll drive over there and get help! What’s wrong with you, Andre?” She felt her face flush. “You’re not thinking clearly. And you’re being cruel.”

Andre withdrew, not looking back at her.

“This is bullshit,” she mumbled as she collapsed into her chair. She turned the silent computer screen towards her. Before the internet joined the inoperable cell service, and after she left the infected on the third floor, she had scanned the news reports insisting that citizens not panic. As images of spaceships, lightning strikes, fires and panicked car crashes flashed in her mind, she realized those images were less stressful than being trapped with a group of infected people and the knowledge she, too, was having delusions.

Glowing people. What would be next? Little green men would join the purple chick to experiment on the patients? She locked herself in her office to watch Channel 12 for any reports about a virus causing delusional episodes. But without news of a contagion, Wanda drifted further into the shared madness, starting to believe those were not random lightning strikes last night. She grew up in Camden and knew the difference between an aimed and a wild shot. The Camden girl also knew Andre was betraying her.

She tightened her jaw, knowing her emotions were seeping out. She smirked when she called bullshit and curled her lip when annoyed. When angry or about to cry, she ground her jaw as she did now. These nonverbal tics were preferable to emotional expression or to punching Andre in the face as she recalled his declaration that Reynolds would help her get pregnant. Very difficult to get pregnant without a uterus. You would have thought as a doctor, Andre would have noticed that she never got a period? Estupido men. Two years ago, she would not have cared about her missing organ. Two years ago, she was living the vow to never marry, never have children, never be a wife or mother. What had it gotten her own mother, but swollen lips and welfare checks for two kids she hated? That whole life was not for Wanda. Smart and educated, she ran this place no matter what the big chief doctors thought. She didn’t need a man to make her complete. No ma’am.

She squared her shoulders, assumed the role of Chief Doctor, and made notes in charts taken from Andre’s desk. Two patients related to government interests arrived less than twenty-four hours prior to the onset of symptoms in the staff and patients. She recorded Geddies’ delusions intensified by the spaceship hoax, Eleanor Bergstrom’s insistence that she was a spy, and Security Guard Dave Johnson’s assertion that he was the son of the level-three pair. She forced herself to record her own fiancé falling victim to the story. She noted Oren Clark swearing the female patient blew up Doctor Lansing and the reports of patients inexplicably escaping from restraints. She added that those suffering from the virus did not restrain patients properly and secured their own deluded script. She added her own experience, hesitating to admit she had seen two people glowing. She reviewed and hoped it would be enough for a diagnosis should anyone check on Longwood.

Today, as Head Nurse, she would host the federal agents as if it was any other day. They would explain what was happening and quarantine them all. She would explain how one of her patients had multiple personality disorder, brain trauma, and an abnormal CT Scan. The other of her patients had escaped but had returned. The infection had taken the remaining patients, except for Brian and Katie. And patient Andre Antoine was incapable of providing adequate care in his infected, delusional state, evidenced by his backing Reynolds’ plan.

“Why can’t we just release the both of you? Tell the federal agents you both escaped?” she questioned Reynolds and their plan before retreating to the solitude of her office. She thought it was estupido when they first mentioned it; she thought it was mucho estupido as they enumerated the details. “You two, and your friends, with their expert makeup, can just leave.”

Reynolds looked at her with his disturbing gypsy eyes. He said, “Wanda. It will be more efficient to deal with them here. We want them to come. At least I do.”

Andre grabbed her arm. “My decision, Wanda.”

“You? You’re just so curious about all of this you would risk my people.”

“No one will be at risk, Wanda,” Reynolds said, his affect serious, “only Angie, me, and possibly Navin.” Dave, now called Navin, did not resist when they secured him in the bed of room thirty-six to pose as Reynolds.

Wanda moved to Dave’s bedside loosening one of the wrist restraints. She scowled at Andre. “I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

“It will be fine, Nurse Vasquez. I am more than capable,” Navin-Dave said reassuringly.

“I have the data I have, Wan. And it’s not like I can restrain him,” Andre retorted, gesturing dramatically to Reynolds who flashed a smile.

“Smug asshole,” she said to Reynolds. “So, you keep us under your direction, endangering my patients. And now the staff.”

“Wanda. I promise you. If you let me execute this plan, Angie will make sure they harm no one, including your patients and your baby.”

Andre had apparently disclosed her most personal and painful secret to this sociopath. His disloyalty devastating, she reminded herself that what she was witnessing resulted from an infection and not cruelty. But Andre stopped her, asking, “A baby? Do we need to discuss anything?”

She set her jaw. “Not now.”

He smiled, as if he was living a miracle. He whispered, “Everyone else seems to know.”

She pulled away and said, “I can’t believe you told that sociopath.” She pushed past him into the third-floor hallway and attempted to get her bearings. Now some psychotic not only had them under his direction, and had her only security guard restrained, but also had her paramour deluded into believing her uterus-free body was carrying his son or daughter. That freaky blue-eyed gold-glowing monster knew just how in his psychotic way to taunt her. Just like a sociopath. Find the weak spot, expose it, then strike. She could handle the day-to-day taunts of floor-three psychotics and their descriptions of sex with corpses or dismembering bodies. But she knew not to disclose her weak spots to them.

She controlled her instinct to run the length of the hallway to the corner stairwell, choosing instead to walk with dignity, calmly scanning her card across the lock. She dropped onto the lowest stair and started not a hard, full-on hysterical cry, but quiet sobbing. She did not have time for a hysterical eye-puffy mascara-destroying outburst. She only had time to let some steam out. She dabbed at her damp eyes with her sleeve, feeling exposed. She would not become a generalization: A Latina from the hood was probably at a party doing drugs with gang members and not walking home from the library at midnight after studying for an AP Biology exam when she was dragged into an alley. Because that’s what chiquitas do, si? She sniffled one last time. The incident was not something Wanda discussed in polite, professional company or disclosed to anyone. She had only recently admitted her pain to Andre, fearful he would break the engagement. She was there when the medical staff informed her that her rapist had cut her up so badly that her uterus was useless and needed to be removed. Only her mother, sister and hospital staff knew. And the hospital staff was probably long dead since the incident was almost twenty years ago. The rapist did not know considering they never found that fucker. But now that sociopath with gypsy-blue eyes knew.

She set her jaw harder and pinched her own arm. Back to work Nurse Vasquez. Your people are depending on you, even if they cannot appreciate it at the moment. Get your fat ass off this step and toughen up. She stood and made her way down the stairs to the first floor to her Greens: patients who smiled at and appreciated her. She exited the first-floor stairwell door, making sure it secured behind her. The absent large hall window, and the invasive October breeze it permitted, revived her anger. Nothing was as it should be. The morning sun seemed late to make it appearance and the starless sky beyond was no comfort. Glad she could not see that ship hovering over the building from this window, she advanced down the hall and noticed the pool room door was open. Poking her head into the room, she inhaled the damp, chlorinated air. All she needed was a drowning on her watch. The room appeared empty, but someone had uncovered the pool. The reflection of the twinkling stars on the water startled her. The water looked so inviting. All those stars in the blackness. But no time for that. She shook herself from her reverie, secured the door and ensured she activated the lock. She proceeded down the hall, poking her head into Katie Travis’ room, who returned Wanda’s smile with no cognizance. It did not matter. A smile was a smile. She gently checked the old woman’s pulse. Katie’s comment about the flying angel could have been her condition or the infection. There was no way to know.

“After making the baby, the angels will take us away,” Katie whispered.

Wanda ignored her, although her concern about contagion intensified. She checked the room, noticed the empty cafeteria tray and realized Oren must have fed her. At least some people were reliable. She helped Katie into bed and tucked the blankets gently around her frail body.

The old woman placed fingertips on Wanda’s arm and said, “And we’ll all be well in heaven.”

“That’s right, Katie,” Wanda said, moving away and securing the door behind her.

Wanda entered the adjacent room and found a similar tray with untouched eggs. Brian hated eggs. The sixteen-year-old boy with severe intellectual disability often drew Wanda pictures. Occasionally, she had remained with him for movie time as if they were brother and sister. She wanted to evaluate him to determine if he was infected, but he was asleep. She covered him tenderly with his favorite quilt and shut his reading light. Crayon drawings of spaceships and angel-like beings flying through the sky were strewn across his desk. She reminded herself to keep him from the television.

Making her way to the solarium, Wanda found the group chatting over the pre-dawn breakfast she concluded Bergstrom had prepared as the old woman emerged from the kitchen wielding a spatula.

“Does anyone have cell service?” Lindsey asked. “I would like to check my Facebook page. And read my texts. My family and friends are freaking out.”

“No service.” Oren stopped chewing a bagel long enough to answer her before he disappeared into the hall.

The frog woman appeared holding Krigare’s cat and an open can of tuna. She placed the cat on the table and let him gobble at the can’s contents. Quickly finishing, he scampered towards the door, meowing to be returned to his mistress. Or, he was perhaps a magic cat that would save the universe from the aliens. Wanda frowned.

“Not now, Sam,” Castania said, picking at a bowl of scrambled eggs. “I need some chow. That’s what you call it, yes? Chow?”

Lindsey smiled at Castania. “Yes. Military do.”

Castania examined the eggs and dropped a spoonful on her plate. Sam jumped onto the table and repeatedly headbutted Castania’s arm. She shooed him away. He leapt from the table and wandered into the hallway, meowing loudly.

Lindsey, offering Castania a seat and sliding one of Josey’s puzzles to the other side of the table, said, “So, you and Yonkins keep saying that. That’s what you call this, and that’s what you call that. Is English not your language?”

Castania said as she swallowed, “Human languages are easily learned, but idioms are difficult.”

“Your English is really good,” Lindsey said.

Castania blinked her silver toad-eyes. “I speak all Earth languages. And many others.”

Boy, this chick was playing the part for all it was worth, Wanda groaned. She took a paper plate and a fork from the table and scanned the choice of food.

“I keep switching from terror to amazement,” Lindsey said while poking at her bacon. “It’s a bit much.”

Sure is, sister, Wanda thought, piling eggs onto her own plate and commenting, “Prefiero tener avena.”

“La avena es mi favorite especialmente con candela,” Castania said, taking a forkful of egg and making several faces as she chewed.

Wanda stopped chewing worried that either she was succumbing to the virus more quickly than she had expected or that the frog woman spoke fluent Spanish.

“It’s always a bit much, Lindsey,” Castania said, regarding Wanda with wide, silver eyes. Her green bobbed hair swayed as she chewed.

Josey asked, “Reynolds isn’t eating, huh?”

“No, his kind does not eat.”

“Castania,” Katro snapped. Wanda watched his long hair swing into his face and diagnosed the poor man with hypertrichosis. So sad.

“Relax your Neanderthal self, Yonk.” Castania stood and retrieved Sam the cat from the doorway, cuddling him against her thin frame and depositing him onto the table. “Yonkins thinks he’s in control because his people are from Earth. But I do not answer to him. Or to Dentri.” She took another bite of eggs. She said, “Reynolds, Navin, and Renya, are not like us.”

“Who is Renya?” Lindsey asked.

“Angie? She’s supervising the peacekeepers,” Eleanor said as she poked at a pile of eggs on her plate.

“Peacekeepers?” Wanda asked, exploring the depths of the rabbit hole. This nonsense would make a great science fiction book. Well, maybe more like some self-published thing that even the author’s family would hesitate to read. Very sad.

“Yes,” Castania responded, adding, “Renya insisted on coming… never mind the reasons.”

“I’m one reason,” Eleanor entered the room, sans spatula, and scooped eggs into a paper bowl.

“You?” Jack asked.

Eleanor poured coffee from the carafe and sat next to Josey, enjoying the silent anticipation. She said, “The Ryads took my eldest son. That was a long time ago. I’m sure, Nurse Vasquez, you saw my history in my file. I always talk about losing him, but never disclose it was an alien kidnapping. They took many children back then.”

“Your son?” Jack asked.

“Navin and some others came to me. Asked me to help. I have government connections and made a perfect spy.” She scooped a pile of eggs into her lipstick covered mouth. “And Renya agreed to help me if I helped them.”

Castania continued. “Several hundred peacekeepers came to observe and be in the position to act when the war started. But the Ryads disrupted the signal we sent to the peacekeepers. It… it is called in your words a capture.”

“Castania,” Katro, or Yonkins or whatever his name was, hopped on his good leg.

“I do not answer to you, Yonkins. Or Dentri. What does it matter what they know?”

Wanda leaned forward, using therapeutic methods. She asked, “So, how do you explain Krigare being a professor who’s been here her whole life?”

“She has been here as Krigare for only six months. She is not some human professor.” Castania chortled.

“Then who is she?” Jack asked.

Yonkins snapped, “Castania!”

Castania met Yonkins glare. She said, “She’s… she’s in charge.”

Yonkins marched, as best as he could with his lower leg in the heavy cast, towards the stairwell.

“When will the next lightning storm hit?” Jack pushed his plate away.

“They will not do that again. That was a… a warning? To show strength. Like a game? Strategic moves. Probably take them three or four days to negotiate and then execute the full attack. That’s a typical Andolonian strategy. Yonkins is waiting for word from our base operations.” Castania added, “But we need her awake. And we cannot let those Ryad bastards take her.”

“Ryads?” Jack asked.

“The Ryads. The ones pretending to be government agents. Members of the oppressive force pretending to be human.”

Jack smiled, “So, he’s using Krigare as bait? You don’t seem happy about that.”

“I am not. She is my… my boss. And I insist we take her from here. Reynolds can use Navin for all I care.”

Lindsey continued in her line of questioning, using that annoying clinical tone she must have learned from the internet. “So, the pulse hit Krigare, and it scrambled the signal. And stuck her in her role? Her human persona? Right?”

Castania nodded and Wanda admired how impeccable her makeup was. Even the beds of her nails were a lighter purple. And her eyelashes were a sea foam green. Castania swallowed and said, “Stuck in a loop, you could say. But we do not know why. When the pulse hit the others, they got stuck in their roles, forgetting who they really are. But she is too powerful to be stuck….” She paused, adding, “But it might have to do with her ring transmitter exploding.”

Lindsey blurted as if she had discovered a cure for cancer: “She said her ring broke!”

“My transmitter exploded,” Bergstrom offered, showing the room her cut thumb.

“Yes, but you were not pretending to be someone else,” Catania said, scooping another spoonful of eggs into her wide mouth.

“A ring?” Wanda interjected, amused by the extended delusion. She could write a paper about this. Maybe get published.

“Yes,” Castania said. “Eleanor had one. And Navin had a ring, too. Transmitters. The Ryads used the rings to send the intercept pulse. To capture the agents in their roles. But Navin was not wearing his.”

Josey dropped her hands below the table.

Castania smiled, her lips unnervingly wide. “And because he did not have it on when the Ryads sent the pulse, he is unharmed.”

Tears formed in Josey’s eyes. “I didn’t take it. He gave it to me.”

“We know. It is quite fortuitous.”

Lindsey tapped the table with her finger. Again, with the exaggerated clinical voice that made Wanda gag, Lindsey said, “He really is Krigare’s son.”

Indignation was strong in Castania’s response. “Renya’s and Reynolds’ son. That should be obvious.”

How convenient, Wanda considered. This was the most complex delusion she had ever assessed. Impossible to disabuse, these people would just keep playing this script ad nauseam. Clinically, she had never heard of strangers sharing a delusion as complex as this. Wanda pushed the plate of her remaining eggs across the table, and stood, wiping her hands on a napkin. She left them, undecided if it was the powdered eggs, Lindsey’s tone, or the story that was making her nauseas.

She reached the rear stairwell and found someone had propped open the pool room doors. She snarled, discovering the stairwell door lock was also disabled. No security in place. More bullshit. With as much determination as she could muster, she reached the third floor and found someone had disabled that door scanner. Damn you, Andre. She exhaled loudly and stormed up the hall to replace Reynolds dressed as an orderly. The pants were much too short, and his upper body strained inside the uniform shirt’s material. He looked like a big, blond sausage.

Andre was looking at his watch. He reached for Reynolds’ arm, then appeared to reconsider, not touching what he considered the glowing guy. He said, “I think we had better get settled.”

Reynolds asked Oren, “Ready?”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“You? No.” Reynolds smiled. “Me? Yes.”

“Well, that’s okay then.” Oren, closing his eyes tightly and extended his hands which Reynolds took in his own.

Blinding light filled the hall, blocking Wanda’s view of all three men. When the light dimmed, she was facing Andre and two Orens.

Andre coughed. “Merde.”

Fear momentarily filled her as Wanda admitted that she had contracted whatever they all had. She must continue to record the symptoms and leave notes for the agents or the PRGH staff who would eventually come to check on them.

Oren opened his eyes wide, “Damn, man. I am handsome!”

Reynolds offered his hand and said, “I need your badge.”

Oren removed it and handed it to Reynolds. He stared at his mirrored self and said, “I’m not even asking how it’s possible.”

Castania, cradling the cat, entered the hall from the other direction. “It’s not. You are just seeing what he wants you to see.”

Isn’t that the truth? Wanda thought. We are all following down Reynold’s bullshit rabbit hole. She felt herself giving up, giving in. How would she care for all these people when she, too, was delusional? Fear tightened her throat. “Oren, how are you okay with all of this?”

Oren smiled. “Because it’s blessed, Miss.”

Reynolds placed Oren’s badge on his shirt. He turned to Castania. “You and Katro stay hidden. Go to the first-floor.”

“Oh, no,” Wanda said as she waved her hand in his face. “They can stay on the second floor.”

“As you wish, Nurse Vasquez,” Reynolds said. “Do it.”

Castania disappeared, frog-leaping down the hall. Now the frog woman was hopping. Wanda considered prescribing herself an antipsychotic. Knowing she must remain to speak with the agents, she said to Oren, “Go to the first floor. Stay with Katie and Brian.”

Oren nodded, lumbering down the hall. “Can’t take two Orens can ya? Too much for you?”

“That’s right, Oren. Just watch them.” She followed the others into Krigare’s room.

Reynolds went directly to Krigare’s side and placed his hand over hers. “Do whatever they tell you to do. I will give you instructions as needed.”

“You better not do your little glowworm trick when they’re here.” Wanda waved her arms around, hoping the agents would just take them all in. The government must have some serum or something to cure this virus.

“Do not worry.” Reynolds said, “I can control my glowworm trick most of the time.” He caressed Krigare’s forearm.

“And what about Dave? You know? My security guard who was lucky enough to resemble you and who is, at this moment, strapped to your third-floor bed waiting for federal agents?” Wanda put her hands on her hips, wondering how he could risk his own son if Dave really was his son.

“He will be fine,” Reynolds said. “He is a good boy. Most of the time. A little confused. Anyway, the agents do not want me this time. Or Navin. They want her.” He looked at Krigare. “And I want them.”

The intercom buzzed and Andre pressed the receive button, asking, “Yes?”

Lindsey’s practiced faux-professional whine filled the room: “Doctor Antoine? The two government men are walking up the entrance path.”

“Coming down,” Andre said into the intercom.

Wanda huffed. “This visit won’t be all tea and scones let’s chat about the weather, Andre.”

“I know. Just let me handle it.” He marched towards the elevators, adjusting his shirt and smock.

She followed, calling out: “Because you’re doing such a bang-up job putting a patient in charge?”

“He’s not a patient, Wan. They forged his transfer docs.”

“Then why are they picking him up, too?”

“I don’t believe they are who they say they are.” He waved his hands around. “Whatever. I’m just curious how this will play out.” The elevator doors slid open, and he boarded, too relaxed for her to remain composed.

She grabbed his arm, whispering angrily, “This is a circus.”

“Agreed. We have people glowing in the observation room.”

“Andre! Seriously! Can’t you be clear enough to recognize your own symptoms? I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe we’re all experiencing some hallucinogen and the government is doing it. Or it’s a virus. I’m not some conspiracy theorist or any of that, but this is not kosher.”

“Agreed.”

“And we have Victor’s exit interview today. The lawyers, too. Although they’re probably not coming since the phones have been down. So, I guess we need not worry about that.”

“Agreed.”

“Stop agreeing with me!” She pushed his chest, not gently.

“Wan, I don’t know what’s going on here. But I know it’s… it’s something wonderful and magical. And I’ll handle it. You worry about the first floor. I’ll worry about the third-floor circus, as you’ve labeled it.” The elevator reached the first floor.

Wanda pressed and held the close door button. “You’re not leaving yet.”

“They’re here. They’re waiting.”

“Let them wait. We need some sanity. That’s what we have. Our patients don’t. We do.” She tried to plead with her voice and her eyes and could see him hesitate.

“What do you want me to do? Do you see the spaceships floating in the sky, Wan? Did you witness the glowing people? And the lightning attacks?”

“I did. But I don’t know what I really saw. You’re just following this madness without question. You. The man with the multiple doctorates. Even I can see there’s a pattern of sickness here. What I have is a patient without records who escaped, somehow, and an unconscious patient with an abnormal CT Scan who, according to federal agents, cannot have freaking water.”

“Right.” He tilted his head. “And spaceships attacking our planet. Honey, I believe Reynolds. Especially after bathing in that light.”

She hated when he titled his head to avoid disagreeing with her. Damn him and those dark eyes. “You told Reynolds too much,” she paused, gulping back anger. “None of us understand what’s happening.”

“Which is why I’ll have a discussion with the federal agents.”

“And tell them about the glowing man?” Her eyes were wide.

“Ah… yeah… no. I don’t think I’ll mention that.”

“Or Reynolds’ escape?”

He shook his head. “Not that either.”

“Then what? What are you telling them?”

“Hopefully, they’ll tell me.” Andre turned, hesitated and smiled at her, adding, “and then you can tell me about this whole baby thing.” He pressed the button to open the doors.

She clenched her jaw as he exited and gave her no choice but to follow. Oh, no way was he doing this without her right there. She stormed after him.