Chapter Six

Around the time the moon had begun its gravitational shift on the lycans, another long-held story was unfolding. Like the metamorphosis that the town’s people were undergoing another abrupt shift was occurring within Marta Foster.

At that moment, Robbie fell to his knees the first time and growled with fangs forcing their way from his gums.

Marta took her eyes from her wall.

Clint was growing his claws in front of a detainee he had locked himself in with inside Special Projects. Clint had been in human form with her for an hour inside the stainless steel room CR1—Culinary Room. His victim knew what was about to happen and Clint enjoyed the tension that was building as his dinner waited for the big show.

Marta had waited years for her time, and at this moment she jumped to her feet and cracked her neck.

Tim Waters was behind the wheel of his Mustang trying to drive as long as he could before the change made him crash. His shoes had burst open and his pants had begun to split when he hit the brick wall at the grocery store.

Marta walked towards her wall.

Benny Yates and a few of his female companions were skinny dipping at his pool when the change began. The young man and his guests were covered in a thick coat of fur but still passing the beach ball back and forth before their claws popped it, causing the group to howl in laughter.

Marta uttered her first word in years at that moment.

“Darwin,” she said.

* * * *

Darwin sat alone in his childhood home in his bedroom, picking open his old scar from Marta. His change went unnoticed as he sliced open the remnant wound. The more blood he drew the harder he tore through the flesh, ignoring the pain he was causing. He wasn’t sure why he had started to pick at his old pockmark and he would never be able to say how long he had been doing it. He simply did it. Inside was a secret and a mystery but under his skin and muscles he found nothing, but he kept digging, nonetheless.

Marta charged her wall full force, crashing her skull into the stone. Dazed by the impact, she gathered her balance and again charged the wall, this time with more force. Blood began to leak from her split skull but Marta again stumbled to her feet making one more rush to her holy wall. Her skull impacted and fractured, knocking her out cold at the exact moment Darwin had finished changing. In his wolf form, he continued picking at his scar for many hours, perfectly content.

* * * *

Director Kimbel arrived at the emergency room still wearing his pajamas but with a suit jacket thrown overtop. He had received an urgent call from Riverview and was told Marta Foster had to be removed from her cell and taken to an outside medical facility at once. Kimbel had to authorize the escort personally and he knew that security measures would must be extreme to ensure everyone’s safety. He had contemplated the options but knew the kind of immediate treatment she required could not be offered at Riverview. Even knowing that her condition was considered grave, he wanted to be in attendance to ensure Marta could be returned to Riverview at the earliest possible moment.

“Can someone explain to me why this woman, who virtually never moves, suddenly charges the wall, not once, not twice, but three times? Where the hell were the orderlies?” Kimbel demanded.

“We couldn’t have stopped her. By the time we knew something was going on, it was over. She caught us off-guard,” Orderly Johansen replied.

“You bet your black ass she caught you off-guard! What the fuck are you paid for? You know goddamn well she’s on continuous watch! Who was watching the CCTV system?”

“That system is down sir, maintenance has refused to fix it. Some bean counter decided to save the money and leave it broken because we’re closing. The union protested but like all things management seems to ignore our safety.” Johansen poked, “I think it was just the full moon, you know how the crazies get at full moon.”

Kimbel realized he himself had been that bean counter. He hadn’t realized that freezing the maintenance budget had impacted the Foster cell camera. He now realized that it was something he should have had fixed without question. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, Kimbel was left with a potential mess that he had helped create.

“Marta never did anything, Johansen. The full moon impacts the other patients, but never her.” Kimbel turned to Doctor Giddon, “what’s her condition?”

“It’s in surgery right now,” Giddon informed. “The surgical team said it fractured the skull and there’s a good possibility of a cerebral hemorrhage. At last word they were looking at doing an endoscopic drainage.”

“Is she still out?” Kimbel asked.

“They’ve got…” Doctor Giddon hesitated but continued delicately, “her sedated, but she never came around after she hit her head.”

“You know as well as I do that any sedation is likely to be ineffective. What security precautions do you have in place?”

Doctor Giddon said, “We have a team of five orderlies on hand to intervene at a moment’s notice.”

“And?” Kimbel shot back with his eyes beginning to bulge from his skull.

“A straight jacket was in place, but the surgical team requested it be removed. They felt that the patient posed no immediate risk to herself and a straight jacket would interfere with any resuscitation attempts, should they become necessary.”

“So, they have no idea what they have in there, do they?” Kimbel replied.

“No sir, they don’t. I tried to explain to them the need for the straight jacket but they demanded it be removed, citing the Hippocratic Oath,” Doctor Giddon offered. “They said it was as though I tried to hinder an effective treatment of the patient, and that they may become compelled to report me. I gave in…”

Kimbel lectured in frustration: “We should have delayed her transport to the hospital. The world would be a safer place had she just died. The laws and human rights make protecting society a nearly impossible task, however the rights of the insane and even criminals for that matter, outweigh the rights of everyone else. We can’t do what we must do to restrain Foster because it infringes on her rights. She’s a patient who has to be treated with dignity and respect, meaning the least restrictive measures possible. We can’t use handcuffs or leg irons because she’s not a criminal. I can’t even use a straight jacket on her unless it’s to protect her from herself. It just seems everything is backward in our system. We’re the experts and we know what she can do; let us protect society and let us do what we must do. Instead, the bleeding hearts pipe up and demand humane treatment of the animal. What they have done is essentially have us prop the door open and hope the animal opts to stay inside.”

Edward Giddon said with a comfort in his voice, “Sammy, you and I have been through a lot together. Within a month, we’re going to be done with this and we can forget ever having met Marta Foster. Everything will be fine…just wait.”

The two friends stood in the hallway for a time without saying another word. They would wait for the medical report and a time-frame to take Marta back to Riverview and return her to her wall.

* * * *

Three hours of silence had passed in the hallway outside the OR and no one had come or gone from the room in all that time; not even a noise had been heard. Both Kimbel and Giddon had grown impatient at the lack of information and were now looking for any excuse they could find to enter the room and get an update.

“Johansen! Why don’t you put on some garbs and see if any of your men need a break. While you’re in there, see if you can get us an update from the surgeon,” Kimbel asked.

“Yes sir.” The lumbering orderly departed without argument.

“I know it’s not professional, but I’ll say it anyways,” Doctor Giddon said. “For all the years we’ve tried to reach Foster, maybe this knock on her noggin will be all she needs to fix her.”

Kimbel chuckled under his breath. “If it were only that easy. We could go around and club all our patients on the head and overnight they would be fixed.”

“So strange…I wonder what triggered her? Have you notified her family yet?” Doctor Giddon asked.

Kimbel merely shrugged. “Marta’s mother had no desire for contact. Her file has no next of kin listed. I remember the day Marie Foster severed all contact with Marta. There had been some tragedy in the family but I never found out exactly what happened. I know it involved her husband and the oldest son. When she came in to see me it was like she blamed Marta for what happened. The hatred towards the daughter was almost unimaginable. It wasn’t like Marie came to visit that often, but that last day there was a definite change. Marie crouched down at the cell door, probably for no more than a minute. I could hear her sobbing and scolding Marta-though I couldn’t quite make it out. I remember clearly what she said to me when she left the cell door. “Cremate her and bury the ashes in hallowed ground drenched in holy water and don’t mark the burial place.” The way Marie spoke of her child was almost as though she wasn’t human. It took some doing, but eventually the hospital agreed to remove the Foster family as a contact for Marta. From that moment on she had no family.”

“Did you agree to the burial terms?” Giddon asked.

“Yes, but I don’t think they would have been adhered to. The cremation was fine, but everything else…not bloody likely.”

“Sounds like the whole family was a little off kilter,” Giddon commented.

Johansen approached in the skin tight blues, “Mister Kimbel, this surgical gown barely fits and they don’t have any others close to my size.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, we’re not here for fashion or comfort! Just get your fat ass in there!” Kimbel shouted.

Johansen sauntered through the double doors of the OR without further dispute, only shaking his head slightly as he went. The doors of the OR had barely stopped swinging when the large orderly was heard screaming and running back to the safety of the hallway. He emerged a moment later, his pigmentation drained.

“What is it?” Kimbel asked.

“Sir, she’s gone! The others, you have to see.” Johansen began to cry.

Kimbel and Giddon ran through the double swing doors and down a short corridor to find themselves standing in a fantasy world. Likened to a wax museum, the doctors, nurses and orderlies were all frozen in place. The surgeon stood at the head of the gurney as though he was about to perform surgery. A nurse stood at a tray of stainless steel tools, her hand already on a scalpel. The security contingent of orderlies stood in proximity around the table, staying clear of the medical team. They appeared to be alive and breathing but they defied logic. Their eyes had burst. Everyone in the room had blood rolling down their cheeks. Particulate of the posterior chamber drooped from their eye-sockets and hung over their face masks like sludge; the room hung in silence.

“Where is she? Where is Marta Foster?” Kimbel screamed in a panic.

In a blink of an eye the trance ended and the injured fell to the floor, releasing the agony that they had endured in silence for hours. The staff rolled on the floor begging for the pain to stop. Tears of blood poured from their sockets.