Preston hesitated after he closed the door. The operating room was still empty. He couldn’t get over how abnormal that was. It wasn’t right. He looked back at the entrance, possibly debating returning to Joe and Alice. Then Preston shook his head, discarding the idea, and navigated his way around the operating table to the door. What was underneath that sheet, anyway?
Infinitely freaked out by the prospect of a corpse less than three feet away from him, Preston ran away from it, out of the door and into a bathroom—regardless of what gender the bathroom belonged to. This is not mint, this is so not mint, this is not mint at all, he thought as he hyperventilated, resting a hand on the sink.
“Sugar, I think you’re in the wrong bathroom,” a white-haired lady said with concern in her voice at the sink next to him.
“So that’s why the guy on the door was wearing a skirt! I thought he was a cross dresser,” Preston said, widening his eyes in realization. That’s one excuse for mixing up the bathrooms.
The old woman only washed her hands, throwing him a curious look every now and then.
“Are you from the psychiatric ward?” she asked suddenly.
“No, not this time. I’m scheduled for next week,” he replied, smiling. This was fun.
The water from the faucet came out slower and slower, until the stream became a drip, and then even the drips receded.
“Shit,” the old woman muttered, rotating the handles on the sink. “What’s wrong with this faucet?”
“I,” Preston said, normally this time, “I’m not sure.” He peered at the faucet, trying to figure out why it wasn’t functioning properly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, dashing out of the restroom.
Preston navigated around people, who were unaware of the crisis at hand. He pushed open the door at the entrance of the hospital into a vestibule. When he saw what was going on just outside the actual hospital exit, he quickly hid behind the vestibule’s wall, which was right next to the door. He carefully peeked out, revealing only his eyes and forehead.
It didn’t make sense.
Preston didn’t know how this happened, but something clicked. He ran back to the operating room, where the figure of a body still rested under the sheet. Pressing his lips and eyelids together, Preston whipped the sheet of the table. The sheet fell on top of Preston’s head. Flinging his arms in a frenzied attempt to get the sheet off of him, he tore off the sheet, flung it on the ground, and gazed in horror at the body on the sheet. It was another Mr. Woodward.
“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!” Alice yelled, clenching her hands into fists.
“You don’t get to be a bitch all the time!” That’s what Joe wanted to say. What he actually said was much different: “Can you just cooperate for a minute or two?”
It came out sounding like an apology, or like a legitimate question.
“Fine,” Alice sighed, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “So what now?”
“We fix the leg.”
“And then what?”
“I—I don’t know, Alice. I’m sorry,” Joe snapped. “I’m sorry if that annoys you that I expect you to stick by me even when I have no plan whatsoever.”
“If you don’t have a plan, then why are we here?!”
“To fix the alien’s leg! Did you miss that or something?”
The alien, Frog, looked slightly scared on his table. Joe knelt next to it with gauze in his hand. He lifted up Frog’s leg very carefully, and saw a huge gash underneath it. Joe cursed quietly.
“Why are we even helping it?” Alice criticized. “What has it done for us?”
“Saved our lives, for one!” Joe said.
“It ate Martina!” Alice countered. “It ate somebody! I think you fail to realize that.”
“Can you—Can you just—” Can you just understand why I have to do this? “Can you just get me the freaking disinfectant?”
“I could’ve been with the group right now, so you could at least be grateful.”
“Alice, stop being a bitch and get me the disinfectant!”
Alice groaned, stomped her foot like some pathetic three-year-old, and walked loudly away to get it.
Joe unwound the gauze, trying to remember what he learned at Boy Scout camp about fixing broken legs. Manual, page 173, at the bottom: How to Fix an Alien Leg, he thought sarcastically.
“I don’t like your girlfriend.”
Joe’s mouth dropped, and the roll of gauze fell to floor, rolling away in the distance, as he looked at the alien who had just spoken to him.
YOU ARE READING
The Call of the Others
FanfictionDid you like the cover? I tried, guys, I tried to make it cool... ANYWAY, this is about the gang we all know and love in the school year after the attack. There's a new girl named Cassandra, who's supposed to be me. I know that's kind of lame, so I'...
