01 – A Dazed Awakening

Erika rolled over and puked straight onto the floor for her first conscious action. The motion of rolling made her head swim and warble, intensifying the welling nausea in her stomach.

She vomited again.

The second time seemed to help a little, as if her nausea splattered over the old-fashioned tiles on the floor just as much as everything else in her stomach did.

Slowly, Erika sat upright, trying to keep from jostling her poor, sick mind. That proved to be a mistake. Spikes of pain coursed through her sides, her back, her arms, and just about everything else. The sudden jolt made her retch, but there was nothing left to throw up.

Keeping as still as she could manage, Erika thought back, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing that came to mind was that fat monk and the car crash before that, with the way she shattered the man entirely, sticking out distinctly. Then, there had been the sound of a helicopter while she sat on the cold, frozen street. There was nothing after. Had she wound up captured? Or taken to a hospital?

It seemed to be the latter. Erika had some kind of brace around her chest, a splint on her left arm, and bandages covering just about every inch of exposed skin. A loose, blue-fabric hospital gown was the only thing she wore aside from the gauze.

Slowly, carefully, Erika turned her head back and forth, getting a sense of her surroundings.

The room was… old. Maybe it had been bright and clean at one point in time, but the walls bore the dark spots of stains, the door was worn, warped wood, and the floor itself looked like real stone tiles, brown and rough. Rafters stretched across the ceiling, from which a single lightbulb dangled on its sole wire, giving off a dull, old yellow light that did not burn steadily.

Erika sat on a bed with white metal bars at both the head and foot; much of the paint had worn off over the years, leaving the dark metal underneath more prominent. A hefty indentation in the mattress, the perfect size for her to lie down in, either meant that the padding wasn’t very good at its job or that she had been there for quite some time.

The emptiness in her stomach made her think the latter—it wasn’t just that she had thrown up everything, there had been nothing to throw up. She was famished, the ‘eat a horse’ level of hungry—though she didn’t feel dehydrated, presumably thanks to the clear liquid bag hanging from a hook above her bed. A long, thin tube attached the bag to her arm via an intravenous needle.

Despite the situation, despite the uncertainty, there was a little giddy sensation at the sight of the IV taped to her wrist. Waking up disoriented with an IV shoved in her? She would get to do that movie thing where the person ripped it out. It was a little spark of excitement in an otherwise concerning situation.

Erika reached over, only to find her left arm stopped midway. A leather-padded iron manacle chained her left wrist to the wall. The length of the chain was fairly generous, but sitting up and twisting around brought it to its limits.

Just like that, the joy faded away.

Chains.

Erika had not forgotten the museum. She had freed her mother and The Fixer by breaking their chains, inadvertently breaking the chains of some monstrosity in a bottomless pit.

She was in some kind of run-down hospital. Someone had helped her, but they also thought they could chain her up. If it was The Mummy, the chain was probably connected to more of that monster’s chains. If it wasn’t The Mummy, why chain her up?

It was just the one chain; her legs and other arm were free. Unlike the chains that had been binding The Fixer, this one was simply clamped around her arm, not hooked into her flesh like she had opened the Lament Configuration. There was no vast pit around her, no massive, cargo ship-sized chains extending into the darkness.

Seeing no call button for a nurse, and having no other options, Erika yanked her wrist, breaking the manacle. Holding her breath, she waited with a wince for the crashing thunder of one of those massive chains breaking, or perhaps a giant tongue reaching up to shatter her little room, but nothing happened. As she let out her breath, she carefully peeled away the tape over the IV line and slid the tube out of her arm.

Finally free of all restraints, Erika carefully climbed out of her bed, making sure she was steady on her feet even as she avoided stepping in anything unpleasant. The knee brace was a bit tight and made it so she couldn’t bend her right leg, but she otherwise didn’t feel too much pain… at least so long as she didn’t breathe too hard. There was a heavy, dull thrum throughout her body, but no sharp spikes.

Her first stop was the cabinet at the back wall, hoping for something useful. Although its wooden panels looked like they had been drifting out in the open ocean for a hundred years before being dragged here, the equipment inside was relatively modern. She found some disinfectant, gauze, and tape—a good thing too, since the IV wound was bleeding more than she had expected.

She hoped to find clothes inside, or at least some boots. This place looked like it was one rusty nail away from giving her a tetanus infection. Besides that, while Erika didn’t consider herself shy or self-conscious, a creepy hospital didn’t seem like the best situation to be running around in nothing but a gown with her ass hanging out the back.

Back at the bed, Erika reached under her gown and reached just a little further to grasp a change of clothes from her armory—some baggy jeans, a crop top, and a light bolero jacket. Not exactly the best wear for a fight, but she hadn’t exactly stocked up on body armor. At least the chunky combat boots had steel-capped toes.

It was only while getting dressed that Erika realized one massive problem, something she probably would have realized earlier had she been in a better state of mind.

Her watch was missing. She had broken the manacle keeping her tied to the bed, and her watch was missing.

If this wasn’t The Mummy who captured her, they would probably be stopping by to visit sooner rather than later; Erika was in no state to fight them.

She still pulled a baseball bat from her armory before stepping up to the door.

The corridor beyond was dark, lit only by single, dim bulbs matching the flickering one in her room. It was enough to see by, but not enough to see well. At the very least, she could see that there were no people in either direction. Erika almost wished there were; people would have given her information, either via someone to talk to or someone to fight through. She couldn’t learn anything from nothing.

Pulling a flashlight from her armory to her splinted arm, resting her bat on her shoulder with her other hand, she picked a direction at random and started walking.

It felt like this place went on forever, filled with dozens of doors on both sides of the hall, each of which opened to a room similar to the one she had woken within. There were no other patients, no sign of a way to call for a nurse, nothing. Just single, flickering lightbulbs, the mildew-covered walls, and the cracked tiles underneath her feet. Even when she reached an intersection in the corridor, every direction looked like more of the same, like she had clipped out of reality, skipped over the machine-like outside, and gone straight into some liminal space.

There were signs on the walls, directions written in Chinese characters with arrows pointing in one direction or another. Erika didn’t speak a single word of Chinese, and her phone was missing along with her watch, leaving her unable to look up a translation. She did recognize the regular Arabic numerals. She had been coming from 101-200, and 201-300 were straight ahead; Erika assumed the characters next to the numbers meant rooms. There were no numbers on the other two paths.

Erika stood there, wondering if heading towards zero would see her a way out, or if she should keep walking in the same direction…

Or if one of the other two directions simply said, Exit this way, ignorant English speaker.

While trying to decide, Erika heard a light, metallic tapping noise from somewhere behind her. The foreign noise made her realize just how silent everything else had been—all noises came from her and her alone. Switching off her flashlight, Erika pressed her back up against the wall, readied her bat, and held her breath in wait.

The clicking grew louder and louder, reaching a point where Erika could identify the noise as clear steps, like the walker was wearing tap-dancing shoes. Not willing to risk peeking around the corner and revealing her ambush spot, Erika couldn’t tell exactly how far away the steps were.

Someone stepped forward, moving directly underneath the sole lightbulb in the center of the intersection without glancing to either side. The newcomer was a nurse straight out of the fifties, wearing a long white dress and a funny little folded hat. A whole series of syringes hung from her belt in the exact same way Leslie might have gun cartridges in a bandolier.

Erika hurried out as fast as she could limp, catching the nurse before she could get fully across the intersection. She pressed her bat directly against the woman’s spine like it was a gun she was using for a robbery. “Move, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The nurse paused, moving only to bring her heels together. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder.

“Who are you?”

“I am known as The Orderly,” the nurse said, her voice calm and soothing; her bedside manner must have been impeccable.

“Not The Nurse?”

“The Nurse was taken,” she said, still without turning her head. “It no longer is, but I have no desire to change.”

“Fair enough. Where am I?”

“You are currently within the Jade Gate Convalescent Asylum.”

Erika didn’t recognize the name. “That tells me nothing.”

“It is a medical center and asylum, built in 1921, located somewhat within Chicago’s Chinatown district, and is currently occupied by The Castle.”

That told Erika a whole lot more. First and foremost: she was back in Chicago. That was not necessarily a good thing, given that she had just broken her way out of her chains; if The Mummy had detected that, they wouldn’t have any trouble reaching her even with their regular masked goons, not to mention the tattooed people like that monk and naked woman. Erika didn’t think she was in much of a state to fight off regular people, let alone anyone supernatural.

Secondly, she was apparently a guest of The Castle. Aside from her brief interaction with The Butler, Erika knew almost nothing about them. They were another faction of Chicago’s supernatural scene. The Eclipse didn’t particularly like them, and The Puppet didn’t like them either. That was the extent of Erika’s knowledge.

And, she wasn’t really their guest. “Why was I chained up?” she asked.

“The Asylum is not a place one should wander unattended. There are beings which wander its hallways, all of whom are best left well alone, and should you avoid them, the very architecture is hostile to life.”

“You were alone.”

“All members of The Castle maintain an active connection to The Mind, who has some level of control over this place. You do not.”

“Maybe you should leave a note saying there are monsters in the halls instead of tying people up,” Erika grumbled.

“Notes are frequently ignored, especially when one awakens in an unknown situation. Chains are harder to ignore.” She paused, and finally turned her head, just enough for Erika to see her eyes. They were not normal eyes, with her bright red iris segmented like a six-pointed star with uncannily rectangular points. She had no visible pupils. “Normally,” she added. “It seems as if they were lacking in your case.”

Erika shook off her surprise—she had spoken to a giant spider woman and a pile of worms inhabiting a crash test dummy, and she wasn’t sure why some odd eyes were throwing her off. “People waking up not knowing where they are happens often around here?”

“More than you might expect.” Her mouth was hidden behind a black surgical mask, but Erika was positive her jaw hadn’t moved as she spoke.

“So… I am not a prisoner.”

“We have better means of restraining captives.”

“And we’re not enemies?”

“Not to my knowledge,” The Orderly said.

Erika considered for a long moment before she shrugged and lowered her bat. Her poor, strained arm muscles were tired of holding it anyway.

The Orderly cocked her head to one side. “Just like that? No suspicion? Trusting me at my word?”

“My head is a bit fuzzy, but not so fuzzy that I don’t know the state I was in before I got here. I don’t know why you helped, but I probably wouldn’t be on my feet if it wasn’t thanks to you, and if you meant me harm, I probably wouldn’t have woken up to begin with.”

“Thanks to The Doctor,” The Orderly corrected. “I merely assisted in the operation.”

Erika grimaced, not liking how invasive the word operation sounded. “So, since you guys helped me out, I’ll go ahead and give you a fair warning: I’ve got people after me and, since I woke up, they probably know I’m here.”

The Orderly tilted her head, then tilted her head in the other direction, her eyes never straying from Erika’s face. “So long as The Castle remains intact, none shall penetrate our walls, so says The Mind.”

“Yeah, that’s great. Does your Mind know that these guys have some kind of portal magic with whole pocket dimensions, and that one of their guys can run an hour drive on the highway in about ten minutes?”

“The former is more concerning,” The Orderly said without hesitation, though there was no urgency in her still-calm voice. “What sort of pocket dimensions?”

Erika snorted a laugh—it hurt. “Hell if I know. Some warbly wall opened a space into a giant tomb kinda thing.”

The Orderly tilted her head. “The Director wishes to speak with you now that you’ve woken. As you have demonstrated no significant ills following your surgery, a post-op exam can be delayed. Follow, please, and do not stray far.”

“Hold up,” Erika said, grabbing at The Orderly’s arm. It was a clumsy attempt, halfhearted and slow, not just because of her injuries. Erika had a question. Just one question, which she had been putting off because she feared the answer. But she didn’t think she could delay any longer. “I was with some friends before… well, before I got here. Are they…” Alive? “…here too?”

Leslie and his family were alive, at least. None of them had been in danger. The rest of The Hunters hadn’t fought the monk, but that crash had been violent enough that it alone could have killed all of them. She distinctly remembered hearing sounds from both Sofia and Anna, moans and groans of pain, mostly, while Rick had been eerily silent. Noise or silence didn’t necessarily mean anything for anyone’s long-term survival, however.

“I believe I am aware of the ones you mean. I performed two separate operations, with The Doctor, on a cursed sword wielder. He lives.”

Erika let out a small sigh, feeling an iota of relief even as her apprehension ratcheted up at the lack of news of the rest. “There should be two others.”

“I do not know their names. One escaped the incident wholly unscathed, minus bruising. She is not present within The Castle, having sought medical attention elsewhere. The other… is currently undergoing a fifth operation with The Doctor. I had been assisting, prior to The Mind detecting your impending awakening and sending me to meet with you.”

“Five operations?” Erika blinked, surprised at the number; she had to wonder just how long they had actually been here, but she was more concerned about her state. “Is she alive?”

“She is now,” The Orderly said. “And she was when I departed to find you.”

Erika opened her mouth, about to demand what that was supposed to mean, only to snap her jaw shut as she realized that, maybe, she didn’t want to know.

“If you would prefer to meet him now, the cursed-sword wielder is recuperating in a room not far from the one you found yourself in upon awakening.”

“No, no… I…” Erika did not know how to face The Hunters, especially not before she knew what happened to the one who was still undergoing surgery. It was her fault they ended up like that. She had been too lax; the moment her watch went off, they should already have been moving. She had known it would attract The Mummy, but she just assumed that an hour away by car was far enough to not have to worry.

“The Director awaits in the operating theater,” The Orderly said, turning. She started walking down one of the side hallways, her sharp heels clicking against the floor with every step. There was no haste in her movements, merely calm, steady advancement.

Erika hesitated, feeling a sick sensation welling in her stomach that had nothing to do with her earlier vomiting. Only when The Orderly paused and looked back did Erika hurry forward.

“Please do not stray far,” The Orderly said, continuing her walk.

“Sorry.” Erika swallowed heavily, wondering which of the dozens of questions on her mind she actually wanted answers to and which she would rather delay until she had her head on straighter.

Erika wasn’t sure how long they had walked, though they had turned down one more hallway before The Orderly stopped at a large set of double doors. Slipping in a large brass key, The Orderly pushed into a high-ceilinged auditorium-like room filled with rows of seats, each row lower than the last. The center was lit, just as dimly as the rest of the hospital, by a quartet of dangling bulbs.

Two people stood around a metal slab in the surgical theater, while a third lay on the slab itself.

The largest of the figures stooped over the slab, wearing a sleeveless button-up with a thick, black butcher-style apron over his chest. Small pince-nez glasses hid his eyes, and a surgical mask hid his mouth, but his wispy white hair was swept back over his head, contrasting with his skin tone.

On the opposite side of the table, a smaller person of indeterminate gender wore a whole gas mask straight out of World War One, with a hefty filter stuck to its front and amber-tinted lenses. Thick black straps stretched over and around their head, capped by a bandana to hide their hair. They weren’t helping with the surgery directly, but appeared to be monitoring the various bags of liquid and a large machine hooked up to several tubes—all of which ran to the patient.

Following the tubes with her eyes, Erika finally looked at the patient.

Anna.

Erika almost threw up again at the sight. One arm was missing, as was a leg. They were not clean cuts, but rather looked like she got caught in one of those industrial metal crushing machines. A splintered bone poked out from the torn flesh of her leg—the subject of The Doctor’s current attentions. The tubes from the machine were jammed right into the end of her arm, pumping some bright orange liquid into her body while a putrid green pumped out. Another clear tube held bright red blood.

A cloth covered most of her torso, but Erika could see stitches running from her chin up, along the side of her face, up to the circuit-like tattoo above her ear. Several staples gleamed over the top of her head where some of her already short hair had been shaved clean.

And this was supposed to be her fifth surgery?

A young-sounding voice pulled Erika’s attention from The Doctor slicing through parts of Anna’s leg. “It is remarkable, is it not, how the human body is little more than a series of crude mechanisms—pumps, levers, and fragile conduits, all crafted from meat—yet we drape it in such poetry and terror when it ceases to function.” A shorter figure stood up from the audience seats, blocking some of the view. “Death is not a mystery, it is a mechanical cessation—an interruption in the flow of fluids and the firing of nerves. Just as with any other machine, it can be restarted with a little know-how once the faulty components have been replaced.”

Erika stared, mouth going dry as she took in that speech.

“Oh, don’t look too concerned. The Doctor is quite skilled,” he said, one hand clasped behind his back as he moved to the aisle. “Though I am sure he would appreciate your continued assistance, Orderly.”

The Orderly nodded, barely, and turned to head off to a side door, leaving Erika alone with…

He wasn’t so much of a man as he was a boy, barely looking older than Carter. He was clearly aiming to be taken seriously, wearing a professional suit and black tie. With one hand behind his back, he leaned slightly on a short cane, staring up at Erika.

“Good evening,” he said, smiling a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You, I understand, are The Agent. I am The Director of The Castle. Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss.”