Infested

Infested: Part 4

1:30 P.M.

Henry reached to start the engine when a screech bellowed from the WitcLand Retirement facility doors. Startled by the sudden out cries, he involuntary left the safety of his car to investigate.

Upon entering the doors, cries grew heavier and more pronounce. Nurses (male and female) ran back and forth from every room, interpreting this as being their way of checking on the residents during an emergency. What's gotten them all so bent out of shape?

Henry followed one nurse, with no particular reason, to the end of the hallway – the pale stained large tile positioned just opposite the door labeled bathroom, gleamed in the gloss of sore-tinged ointment. Henry had gotten closer and closer to the scene to where he could peak inside the open door while medical assistance was running in and out.

He hushed his hysterics, clamping his mouth shut and the sensation washed from a wail at the sight displayed in brutal fashion in front of him.

Shards of broken glass surrounding the body, sitting up-right against the even softer wall, limped over as if quietly sleeping was the nurse Sunny.

Presuming to have cut her own wounds by self-infliction from what he gathered by the chatter from the others surrounding her, yet Henry knew something more sinister had played a key role in this; especially with the oddly large blackened print curving around the left shoulder of her uniform.

That had not been his mother to have caused her death; her hands were rather small, if he recalled.

How would this nurse grab her own shoulder like that, unless she was a very gifted contortionist? It has been known that once a subject has been channeled, they or it are more acceptable to other possessions. It would explain why Sunny left the room so abruptly, that piece of crap wanted to shut any further conversation to be had with her or his mom.

He got his wish.

Pursing his lips to let no one be aware of his presence – giving the fact that he had been chatting with this nurse not fifteen or twenty minutes ago. He casually backed away; just short of a hasty power walk down the busy hallway.

A side glance at a chance opened room, called his attention as he caught the sight of an elder resident standing; the face he'd dreamt that night had contorted upon this poor individual face; slowly waving as Henry passed by. There it was – confirming what he had already deciphered. Sunny was a mere innocent in this incredibly useless curse crap.

Making it back to his nearly ten-year-old Chevrolet Blazer LS, he guzzled down lesions willing themselves up through his esophagus; breathing in puffs of air to alleviate the temptation of just leaning out the side of the car. He quickly grabbed the scrapbook to distract the insisting purging, turning page after page until he came to a screeching halt when noticing standing next to his mom, was his Grandmother, and a gentle looking guy he had no idea who to be. Flipping the picture over it read: Me, Mom and brother Brady.

His eyes shot over the picture and into the parking lot. "Brother?"

He was my uncle?

If he squinted even harder and looked even closer, he could make out the beginning of something metal in his moms' hand! It was the friggin' piece he had sitting in his lap right now. This was nearly seventy years ago.

It had been his moms hand writing. Was this her way of letting me know she had started the tablet back then? Had she known what he was going to do before he succeeded?

With all the research circling him like a dozen buzzards; the answer was sitting there on the tip of his mind. He fumbled for that obituary he had seen earlier. Scrambling through the little excerpt about him; with the conclusion of cause of death being cited as drowning.