Cloud

Mary was carried to the hospital in an ambulance.

Adam drove there in her car, fretting more than he thought he ought to for someone he barely knew.

After she was examined by a doctor they settled her on a bed and left her sleeping.

Adam was sitting beside her, wondering if he loved her.

He caressed her hair and felt her responding to his touch. At least she did not seem in pain.

“What did the doctors say?” Delilah asked, standing by the door, strangely contrite, too timid to enter the room.

Adam looked at her over his shoulder. She still had a worried countenance as she looked at him. “They said she collapsed from exhaustion.”

Delilah peered over to see Mary’s face as she slept, still not entering the room. “I was with John a while ago,” she said. “They said the same thing about mom. Exhaustion and stress.” She stared at Mary, contemplative. “This is really bizarre.”

“I suppose,” Adam said, sighing.

“Adam,” she began, but stopped short at his name.

He waited. She seemed in a struggle to say something. He predicted she would say something weird.

“I am sorry about John.”

Adam touched his face, where John had punched him. She winced as if she herself had been hit.

“It’s fine,” Adam told her.

“He was stressed, but there was no call to hit you like that. Does it hurt?”

“It’s a stressful situation. Besides, he really hits like a girl,” he joked.

She tried not to, but smiled anyway. She covered it with her hands and blushed. She was quite adorable.

“Delilah, what are you doing here?” Alexandra arrived, heels clicking on the floor, displaying an overbearing attitude. She was dressed in a long, low-cut, sleeveless red dress.

“I came to see how Adam is doing,” Delilah said, defensively.

Alexandra glanced Adam’s way, then toward Mary. For a moment her expression shifted uncertainly, but she soon regained her arrogant face.

“John is looking for you.”

Delilah didn’t seem pleased with parting. “I’d rather be here a little longer.”

One of Alexandra’s eyebrows twitched in such a singular way that Adam almost heard her screaming at Delilah. Instead, she smiled, though there was no humor to it. “Have it you own way.”

With a last look at Adam, she went back. She probably had been hoping to speak with him in private. He was glad Delilah stopped her.

“The two of you don’t get along?” Adam asked.

Delilah shook her head, and gave an embarrassed titter. “Is it that obvious?” She looked away, wistfully. “I and John used to be close until they started dating.” She smiled, shyly. “And she always was so arrogant. I guess it was jealousy that created our animosity.”

“That’s a bit childish.”

She blushed. “Yeah I think it’s childish as well.” She coughed, maybe to dispel away the embarrassment. “Well, I think I still wouldn’t like her either way. She’s not a good person.”

“That’s true,” Adam said, truthfully. He looked back at Delilah and suddenly remembered a memory of her when she was younger, wearing an out of fashion big white ribbon.

He contemplated the memory, but could not make much out of it. “I thought you hated me.”

She widened her eyes, surprised, but soon showed understanding. “Because my mother and brother hate you?”

“And your sister.”

She sighed. She scratched her hair, having trouble to continue speaking. “She…doesn’t really hate you. She just hates that you exist.”

“I see.” Adam nodded. “That makes me feel better.”

“And you really didn’t need to talk the way you did when mom…when what happened with her…happened.”

Adam though on it, and decided she was probably correct. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He lowered his head.

When he raised his head again, she had a troubled expression that was hard to read. She laughed, rather prettily. “Looking at you,” she began with a grin, “is just like looking at father. Even the way you two speak is the same.”

Adam pondered what she meant by that. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! It’s a good thing! I’ll see mom now. It was good speaking with you, brother.” She winked at him and left.

He played a little with Mary’s hair, listening to the footsteps on the corridor outside the room and the ambivalent rhythm of the hospital: times of near absolute calmness intertwined with bouts of shouts and screams.

Eventually he drifted to sleep.

Adam had a dream where he could see, hear and walk about as if it was all real. He was lost, wandering in a dark forest. He followed a voice singing in a language he couldn’t quite understand but was not completely foreign either.

After a trek that was not long, but not short, He came upon a clearing, a circular field of grass in the middle of which was a large circular stone, and upon the stone sat a small, indefinite silhouette of light in the shape of a person. Though he could see the figure, and all its parts—hands, nose, long hair, eyes—they refused to form into a whole in his mind, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t picture how it looked like.

Blue and white motes of light danced around the creature like fireflies. At the edges of his vision, indistinct silhouettes shuffled, obscured by shadowy trees, watching him with red eyes.

“Thou hast come once again to mine demesne?” the figure stopped singing to speak. It tilted its head, minutely. “Alack, thou art filled with winter. ‘Tis worrisome. Thou should take more care. Feeble and unknowledgeable, even these young ones can make ripples fierce enough to drift thee away. Do not forget mine bodkin. I wish thee good fortune.”

He opened his eyes and saw the white ceiling of the hospital room. His head hurt.

He felt a presence, like a cold breeze blowing over his shoulder.

He whipped his head around, but there was nothing there.

He frowned, confused. He decided his overtaxed mind was playing tricks on him.

He felt hungry. He saw on the clock that he had slept for about thirty minutes. He decided to have lunch, but his feet did not move. He looked at Mary, feeling a strange pang of guilt that didn’t fade even as he left the room.

§

During his late lunch, he again felt a presence looking at him, but as he turned, he saw John this time.

John walked his way, appearing as if he had just come out of horror story. His eyes were haggard, bloodshot, and strangely keen. His hair was disheveled. His clothes were in disarray. He shuffled more than walked, and there was something frenetic about his feet. He also smelled of…something strange, like mint, sugar, iron and many other things. It washed off of him in thick waves.

He sat before Adam, setting his cup of coffee on the table.

“Hello John,” Adam greeted him when the silence was about to become uncomfortable.

“I think I made a mistake,” John said, nervously.

“What do you mean?” Adam felt more than a little confused.

“I should not have treated you as an enemy,” he continued. “It was not right. You are, too, one of my father’s children, after all.”

“You seem nervous.”

John glared at him with hatred. The next moment, it vanished like a flickering lamp. “It’s a terrible accident what happened to my mother and your wife.”

“Yes.”

He drank the coffee. “I said some pretty embarrassing things before, and I’d like to apologize for them.”

“Thank you,” Adam said. “I take it this means you think I had nothing to do with what happened to your mother.”

He laughed, though there was a certain edge to it. “No, I don’t. It was just the stress talking. You know how these things can be.”

“I do,” Adam said.

John kept sitting there as though there was something more to say but he could not bring himself to say it.

“Is there anything else?” Adam prompted, after a while.

John started. He stared at Adam with distrust, but then, as if forcing himself, calmed down. “No, nothing…just,” a small, strange, strained smile came up his lips, “I hope your wife gets well soon.”

“Thank you,” Adam said.

John smiled widely, and excused himself. Strange as the conversation had been, Adam put it out of mind promptly, and ate the rest of his lunch while wondering whether or not he loved his wife.

She did not have lunch, and he wondered whether he should get something for her when she woke up. Presently, another worry emerged: would she wake up?

He had no explanation to what happened to her. He recalled the notebook he himself had written. Perhaps the book could explain it. He revised the notes again. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, many things that were previously hard to grasp, he could now understand better. Several drawings were in fact rituals similar to the one Mary did.

“Adam,” a voice called.

Adam lifted his head from the book and hid it away. It was Mr. Pence, coming over with a long stride. How did he know Adam was in the hospital again?

“Hello, Mr. Pence.”

He laughed. “Come on, Adam. Call me Rick.”

“Strange to see you here.”

“And why would it be?” Pence asked with a laugh that made his fat chin quiver. “I heard your wife collapsed. She seemed like a strong woman, but I guess even she could not take all the pressure going your way.” He paused. “I do hope that was all it was.”

Adam had no proof, but he felt Pence was not in the know about the strange supernatural event. He should have asked Mary. And who had told him Mary collapsed?

“That is all it is, Mr. Pence.”

“Great. And how are our plans coming along?”

“I am not sure yet.”

Pence raised an eyebrow and gave an unamused lop-sided smile. “How can you not be sure yet?”

Adam thought about it. He was probably being a little too rude. He should act more subservient. “There is much at stake. I’d rather not take risks I can avoid. I’m very sorry about this.”

Pence seemed appeased. He smiled, grandly. “Good. As long as you acquire the deed of the property by the end of next week, everything will run smooth. In any case, this is why I took the opportunity to see you here.” He took a file out of his suitcase. He showed documents to Adam. “As you can see the property covers a god deal of forest and has easy access to all the forests surrounding Lamplight. They’ll never realize that we are harvesting from protected lands. Once we are done with the family, everything will be quite legal.”

“Quite legal?”

“Well, you know, legal for the most part.” He rubbed his fingers in a rather disgusting gesture. “Well-meaning bribes to oil the gears of a restrictive economy. So how do you feel about this?”

Adam thought he wouldn’t understand the documents since he had lost his memory. He was wrong; he understood them, and they spoke of some rather unbelievable amounts of money to him and whoever harvested all that wood. As expected, he planned to harvest the wood. Was wood really that profitable?

“I feel motivated,” he said, making Pence laugh.

The lamp on the ceiling flickered. Pence looked upward, annoyed. The lamp flickered once more. It was not the only one, Adam realized when he saw many lights along the corridors flicker just the same.

He felt something strange in the air. Pence continued to talk, but the sensation that he felt demanded his attention more than him. A cold air seeped within the place. Adam felt goosebumps. He looked over his shoulder. Naturally, no one was there.

“Is it getting colder in here?” Pence observed, shivering.

Adam observed a strange phenomenon. John’s cup of coffee wrinkled. It tumbled and rolled of the table. It shook then ripped apart.

Adam stood, suddenly filled with a terrible sense of impending doom.

Pence flinched. Before he could open his mouth Adam told him he would see Mary now, and that they should part ways, then left without waiting for an answer.

Adam walked hastily down the corridors and up the stairs, to Mary’s room, passing staff and patients, some of which shouted at him.

On a corridor on the third floor, he stopped, realizing the strangeness of the place.

The floor was empty and gloomy. Silence hovered over the place. The lights were dim as if covered by a filter.

His feet felt heavy as he walked, as though he were wading through shallow water. He looked down and saw the most bizarre thing that he had seen yet. The floor was covered up to his knees in a sort of mist, more transparent than common mist, and uncommonly heavy. It had been invisible from afar, but now that he was in the middle of it he could see the sheet of abnormal mist.

He was then doubly surprised by the realization that the mist had perfectly covered several bodies lying over the floor. From afar, he could not see them at all.

“What the hell is this?!”

He crouched to lift one of them, a doctor. She was unconscious, and would not wake up even when slapped her in the face repeatedly.

Adam had no idea what was going on, but the mist had a strange oppressive quality to it. He shivered.

He ran down the corridor toward Mary’s room, spurned by a feeling of dread.

Before the door to her room something incredibly weird was happening.

Through the gaps in the door, white mist seeped and settled on the floor like a viscous liquid.

He turned the knob but the door refused to open. “Mary!” he shouted, banging on it.

Desperate, he slammed his shoulder against the door repeatedly, until the hinges gave in and the entire door fell inward.

He almost couldn’t see over the heavy cloud of mist that had enveloped the room. Mary lied on the bed, choking and coughing in her sleep as if something held her by the neck.

No, something was holding her by the neck.

It was transparent, but Adam could make out a strange, round, tall silhouette standing beside the bed. Its smoke-like arms stretched over Mary, and its amorphous head without eyes turned around as if to look at Adam.

His heart beat hard within his chest, his legs buckled, his vision expanded as if to see all that was before him. Slowly, very slowly, he saw the thing move away from her, then all of a sudden it rushed toward him so fast he couldn’t muster any reaction.

It was like being hit by a truck. He felt his chest cave in with an unpleasant sounding crack. His back hit the wall, and he fell to the floor on his knees.

He retched on the floor and looked up.

The thing lifted an arm and swung down.

Adam instinctively lifted his arms to defend himself. He felt his forearm breaking at the immense weight of the mass of clouds.

Burn it.

He rolled away, and went for the doorway.

It stood still for a time as if not knowing what to do, then rushed after him.

Adam ran with all his might, but the thing was much faster and soon caught up with him in the corridor.

Burn it.

It caught Adam, lifting him by the collar and swirled its hands around his neck, choking him.

Adam tried to punch the creature, but his hands passed through the thing like it was made of mist. Strangely his, shoulders hurt more than his neck.

The light above them flickered intensely, and in the intertwining darkness Adam fancied a pair of angry, red eyes looking at him from within the mass of clouds as his vision slowly faded.

He got his pistol and shot the thing twice.

It immediately let go of him, and Adam fell to the ground as the creature retreated a few steps. The bullets, however, had passed harmlessly through it and hit the floor.

The creature seemed to look at himself with curiosity, and even turned around to see the bullet holes. It seemed to decide bullets were harmless in the time Adam took to run away.

Burn it!

“Stop telling me to burn it, I heard you the first time!”

Then why aren’t you burning it?!

Adam entered a room, closed the door and put a chair under the doorknob to prevent it from opening.

Massive amounts of mist seeped in through the cracks and began to coalesce on the floor. The creature, it seemed, had a rather unique way of entering closed spaces.

Bodies were lying on the floor of the room, and a glass cabinet full of various liquids hung from the wall. He shot the cabinet and began looking for a bottle of alcohol.

While the mass of clouds gathered behind him, he ripped a piece of cloth out of a bedsheet and made a makeshift molotov with an alcohol bottle.

He took out the ornamental knife he had taken from the monster bat, planning to use it and the pistol to make some sparks. But as soon as the blade touched the cloth, it caught on fire.

He almost burned himself in surprise, but hastily threw the bottle at the door. It spread through the mass of clouds as though it was made of dry grass, and burned continuously as a strange sound, like voice inside water, escaped from it.

Finally!

“Shut up!” Adam fell to the floor as the thing burnt away, and the sheet of mist that covered the floor vanished.

He caught his breath and walked toward Mary’s room, passing by several bodies lying on the floor.

Mary lay on the bed, sleeping like a damsel.

“Sorry,” Adam told her.

You told me to shut up, she mumbled, sounding half-angry, half-shocked.