Mythfits

34- Ella

Powerless to stop a simple sickness. Powerless to stop. Powerless. Even though I had deliberately antagonized Steve into verbally sparring, the words stung, even for as much as I try to deny it. The need to prove Steve wrong outweighs my knowledge that Abby's not going to be drastically worse in say, a week, which is when I'll know that the cure for sure works. And so in a burst of recklessness (which was becoming more and more normal for me), I grabbed the mason jar of nasty looking goo and bike as fast as possible over to the hospital.

With the wind stinging my face as I fly down a hill, all I can think of is Abby, which brings harsh feelings of protect, heal, keep safe, to the surface, much clearer now, thanks to my newfound habit of turning into a furry quadruped three nights out of the month.

Even though visiting hours are officially closed, (really, what did I expect) through my frequent visits to the hospital, I knew how to avoid people fairly well. Slipping into a back staircase, I raced up the stairs to Abby's room, heart pounding in my chest. As my nerves and heart rate spike, the palms of my hands itch with what I recognize as an oncoming shift. No! I want to yell, I'm not supposed to shift tonight! It's not a full moon! But apparently my body is choosing not to listen to the rules, and I fight against the churning of my gut.

When I get to Abby's bed, I fumble at the zipper on my backpack, trying to get the jar out.

Struggling with the lid I curse Christine and how tightly she seals jars. Finally opening it, I shake Abby awake. She blinks her eyes blearily, "Ella? What are you doing here? What time is it? What's going on?"

"Shh," I tell her, "I need you to open your mouth. This is going to taste bad, but you need to eat it."

"What?"

"It'll make you better." I promise, I hope.

For better or for worse, she takes my word, and sips from the jar with wide, trusting eyes. Grimacing at the taste, Abby frowns up at me, "what is it?" she asks.

"It doesn't matter now, but it'll make you better." I reply, smoothing back her hair. Then, all of a sudden, the shift hits me in the gut, and I drop to the ground.

"Ella?" she asks, weekly attempting to lean over to check on me

"I'm fine Abby," I grit my teeth against the stabbing pain, "don't worry about it, but I've got to leave now, I'll be back in the morning to check on you." I barely make it into the hallway before I drop the jarn which shatters into a million tiny pieces, my legs buckle and my vision swims with black.

When I come to moments later, my clothes have melted into my tan and black pelt, but my phone lays on the ground. I start to reach for it with a paw, but frantic pounding footsteps alert me to the presence of a nurse racing towards the room. Panicking I freeze, glancing between my phone, the only way I could contact anyone for help, the shattered jar, now a pile of tiny glass shards surrounding a small puddle of thick green brown goo.

Just as the nurse rushes into the room, I dive for my phone, and carrying it tightly in my jaws, I race over the remains of the jar and out of the room, ignoring the pain of broken glass embedded in my paws. Siding down the slightly sloped hallway, I duck into the staircase from which I came and bound down the stairs as fast as I can, listening as the sound of the nurse talking frantically on the phone fades into the background.

Dashing out of the staircase and into a small room containing the biohazard waste waiting to be disposed of. Susan, the gorgon intern that I met when I was first introduced to this mess of a world full of all different Kinds, was placing a red bag of empty syringes in the closet when I dash madly through, upsetting the carefully arranged bags.

"Ella?" she asks, confused, as she watches me franticly skid to a stop in front of the closed door. Whining and almost vibrating with adrenaline, I paw at the knob and then stare meaningfully at her.

Grasping my meaning, she turns the knob, "What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Ella? You're going to get in trouble!"

Tell me something I don't know, I think snidely, but gratefully squeeze out the gap, wagging my tail. As I dash unseen towards the exit, I almost think that I will make it out of the hospital unnoticed. And of course as soon as I think the words, a large white animal control van pulls up, and people spill out of the back, looking very large and professional.

Crap. Swerving, I head for the carefully manicured gardens maintained by the hospital for patients who like to walk around to prove that they're not quite as sick as everyone says. While the gardens are so meticulously groomed so that they look nothing like a garden and more like a control-freak tried to grow plants, it is the best cover nearby and if I can get through them, it's a short distance to a large hedge maze on a nearby playground.

Unfortunately, I forget to factor in that the people in Animal Control have guns. As a dart whizzes past my head, I dive under a nearby row of tall bushes, where I race parallel to the bushes. With every step I take- every time my paw touches the ground- the glass shards are driven farther into my paw, sending jagged needles of pain shooting up my leg. Dashing into the garden, the slim trees and shrubs shimmering slightly in the light of the full moon, I race along the smooth paved paths, leaving bloody paw prints in my wake.

As a coywolf, I can run fast- faster than as I could on two legs by far- but with hundreds of tiny cuts on my paws and glass chips being driven even farther with every step, I run with a profound limp, and the animal control officers are close enough where I can hear their heavy footfalls thumping on the smooth pavement.

Seeing the hedge maze, I sprint, using my last ounce of energy to propel myself into the maze, where I try to get as lost as possible. Twisting around a corner, I find myself at a dead end, where I finally stop running and drop the phone that I had clamped in my mouth. Trying to dial the phone proved difficult as I had no real fingers or opposable thumbs to speak of.

Frustrated and anxious for I could hear the animal control people searching the maze, I slam my paw down on the phone, accidentally hitting the redial button. The last person to call my phone was Steve- to ask for my help once again, and his number pops up, the phone starting to ring.

No! I try to say, no, not Steve! I wanted to call Christine for help. But the phone continues to ring obstinately, impervious to my wishes. Unforeseen in my attempt to call for help, the animal control people start to file into the dead end, tranq guns at the ready. Growling, I back into the corner as Steve picks up the phone and his voice calls softly out of the phone.

"Ella?" he asks, confused, "Are you alright? What's going on?"

I try to speak, but all I can do is whine and bark excitedly. Wisely, for once, Steve keeps his mouth shut.

"Come on." one of the men near the front starts to walk towards me and I back even farther into the corner. Don't bite. I remind myself- if I bite one of them, then they may end up become lycanthropes as well, and I wouldn't wish my hectic life on anyone. But as he comes closer, paying no heed to my warnings, I stop thinking rationally. The only way for me to cure my sister, the only way for what's left of my family to be whole, is to get home in time to get the small jar of potion that Christine took. And the only way to do that is to get through these people and out of the maze.

Feeling like a cornered wolf, which I am, I try to disappear by sheer force of will, which of course fails to work. As the man steps forward once more, I act purely on instinct- I lunge forward, bite him on the leg as he reaches for me, and dash between the rest of the people, attempting to make it back into the maze. But as I turn the corner, my paw lands on a sharp stone which drives fresh daggers of pain up my leg and causing me to stumble.

Taking advantage of my lapse, one of the officers near the back, a young woman who looks to be about college-aged, raises her dart gun and pulls the trigger. At first, the small pinprick of pain barely registers, but it slowly grows into a blanket of numbness which spreads throughout my body. Shaking my head, I try to clear my foggy thoughts, but it feels as if I'm trying to think through a cloud.

In a last ditch attempt to escape, I sprint as fast as possible in whatever direction I happen to be facing. Which ends up being the side of the maze, as I realize when I ram race first into a prickly yew bush. The world growing hazy and my body feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds, I sink to the ground.