A Dance With Death

|| Chapter 22 - The Fire ||

                      

A new soul is within the walls of the hospital. I keep speculating the chances of that person being like me, as I follow the two reapers, who keep on searching for the soul in different rooms. They should be like me. Or else, Griffith would've known about their death, since he knows the Order well.

We're on the ground floor of the hospital, jogging our way towards the soul. The first few rays of sunshine have entered the building, dimly illuminating the hallways.

"It has to be on this floor" Griffith says. "I'm sensing a call there." He points to a corridor to the right, a few steps ahead of where he is. There's a board above the corridor which reads, "Accident & Emergency".

We find an emergency room on the right corner of turn. I see a man - a doctor, judging from the coat - coming outside the room, closing the door behind him. It appears that he's waiting for someone. A female doctor then emerges from the other end of the corridor.

"What happened?" the middle-aged woman asks.

"The girl was stabbed multiple times in the abdomen," says the other doctor. "Class 3 hemorrhage. The knife reached a few internal organs . . ." they hurry into the room, as they continue to talk further.

Althea is about to walk forward but Griffith puts his hand out, stopping Althea. "I'll check," he says. "You guys wait here." Althea and I nod.

Griffith slowly proceeds towards the room, cautious, his shoulders carrying visible tension.

"Do you--" I say to Althea, "do you think that it might be another soul like me?"

"I don't know," she says. "Seems like a pretty normal case to me. But it's Griffith who has to check. His reaper sensations are stronger than mine. I mean, even after a week with you in coma, I couldn't figure out your soul's problem. He made it out just by looking at you."

I stay silent, waiting impatiently for Griffith to come back. If the girl is happens to be an unnatural soul, at least I would have someone similar to me, some human who can understand my position. But also, for the girl's sake, I don't want her to be one. She, like any other human, doesn't deserve this. We don't want another situation to deal with anyway.

I then notice a man across the corridor a couple of feet away from where we stand, sitting on a bench. His brown hair falls on his face, making his features less visible to me. He sits with his hands clenched together, his elbows on his knees and chin resting on his knuckles. He may be a friend or a relative of the girl.

"Come on Griffith. What's taking you so long?" Althea mumbles under her breath beside me.

After another long minute, Griffith emerges through the door. The look on his face says a completely different story. He's less worried, more perplexed.

"I don't understand," he says as he walks towards us. "I really don't understand."

"What?" Althea asks.

"The condition isn't even that serious," he says. "If the doctors treat her well enough - which they can - all that's going to happen is that she'll be unconscious for a few hours and then she'd be good to go."

I just stare at him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't.

"Then why did we hear the call?" Althea asks.

"She's not even close to dying," Griffith says. "But she's showing signs of dying any time soon."

"Meaning?" I ask.

"The thing is, her soul has plenty of life left in it. That means that if she's dying, she's an unnatural soul; a result of the disruption of the Order. But these two stabs can be healed. Her condition is highly unlike yours. Your body is seriously damaged, difficult to repair. Her's isn't. I fail to understand what's going on here."