Chapter Twenty – White Coats and Shadows
1114 Words
The corridors of the military hospital carried their own rhythm. Footsteps echoed sharply against polished linoleum, doors creaked open and shut in precise beats, and the scent of disinfectant floated thick in the air, a reminder that even here, among the wounded, order reigned.
Emily Carter tied the strings of her sterile gown with mechanical precision. This place always gave her a strange kind of peace. The war outside might be chaos, but inside the wards, everything was bright, clean, controlled. The scalpel was where it belonged, the gauze was always at hand, and her hands—her hands knew what to do.
Still, she hadn’t slept well. The images from the strip club, Reeves’s words about the dead lab technician, the coroner’s whispers—all of it had burrowed into her. She carried it now, tucked behind her steady expression.
Her next patient was waiting.
A young soldier sat stiffly on the cot, his uniform shirt balled up beside him. His arm was a mess—a long jagged gash from elbow to wrist, blood dried along the skin. He looked pale, though whether from pain or shock she couldn’t tell.
Emily slipped on gloves and pulled a stool closer. “Let’s take a look,” she said gently.
The soldier extended his arm. She examined the wound, clicking her tongue softly. “Nasty cut. You’re lucky it didn’t hit an artery.”
He gave a weak grin. “Doesn’t feel lucky.”
She prepped the wound quickly, sterilizing, laying out thread and needle. The curved metal glinted under the fluorescent lights. She threaded it smoothly, muscle memory guiding her fingers.
“This will sting,” she murmured.
The needle pierced his skin. He winced but didn’t flinch.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of her work filling the room—the careful pull of thread, the snip of scissors. Then Emily asked, casually, “How’d it happen?”
The soldier shifted, his gaze dropping. “That’s… the weird part, ma’am.”
Emily glanced at him briefly, then back to the wound. “Weird how?”
He swallowed hard. “It wasn’t the rods, not really. It was how I ended up on them.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “Go on.”
The soldier let out a short, nervous laugh. “One of the sergeants. He’d been gone for a while—medical leave or something. Came back today. Everyone was glad, you know? Joked with him, welcomed him back. He seemed fine.”
Emily tied off a stitch neatly. “And then?”
The soldier’s eyes widened as though he were reliving it. “During the drills… he just lost it. Snapped. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He shook his head, voice trembling. “He started throwing people. Big guys—guys who can bench three hundred easy. He tossed them like they were rag dolls. We tried to hold him down, but it was like wrestling a bear on fire.”
Emily kept her movements steady though her pulse raced. “He attacked the whole unit?”
“Yes. Not just yelling or pushing. He didn’t even look like himself. His face—his eyes—they weren’t right. Like he didn’t even recognize us.”
Her chest tightened. She forced herself to tie another stitch, keeping her tone neutral. “And you?”
“He grabbed me by the vest, like I weighed nothing. Next thing I knew, I was flying. I hit the ground near a stack of rebar. My arm…” He glanced at the gash. “That’s where this came from.”
Emily’s hands worked steadily, but inside, a voice screamed. It was everything Reeves had warned her about. Proof.
The soldier gave a shaky laugh. “Don’t know what they gave him. Some kind of antibiotics, maybe. Guys joked about it. Whatever it was, it gave him strength I didn’t think possible.”
Emily forced a small smile. “Antibiotics? We should patent them.”
He chuckled softly, not catching the edge in her voice.
The stitches came together clean, the wound closing under her practiced touch. She laid a sterile dressing over it, wrapped the bandage snug, and patted his hand. “All done. Keep it clean, change the bandage every twelve hours, and come back if it swells.”
He exhaled, shoulders slumping with relief. “Thank you, ma’am.” He swung his legs off the cot, pulled his shirt back on awkwardly.
Emily offered a reassuring nod. “You’ll be fine.”
He gave a grateful smile, then left the room.
Emily allowed herself a breath. Just one.
Through the half-open door she saw him pause. Two uniformed soldiers stepped into his path. Their hands were firm but not rough as they spoke quietly to him. He frowned, confusion plain on his face, but after a moment he followed them down the corridor. No protest, no resistance. Just… gone.
Her stomach turned.
She stripped off her gloves slowly, fingers trembling. Her mind replayed his words: He snapped. Threw us like toys. His eyes weren’t right.
The door opened again. Emily quickly straightened, her mask of composure snapping back into place.
Her superior stepped in, his expression warm, almost fatherly. “How are you holding up, Carter?”
Emily managed a smile. “Work helps. Keeps me focused.”
He studied her, eyes soft but searching. “That’s good. That’s the best way right now. Keep busy. Keep your head down.”
“Exactly,” she said brightly. “I’m fine. Really.”
He gave a small nod, satisfied. “Good soldier.” He patted her shoulder lightly, then turned toward the door.
She smiled until he was gone.
Then her expression collapsed.
Emily leaned against the counter, staring at the instruments gleaming under the white light. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She could still see the soldier’s wide eyes, hear the tremor in his voice. Like he didn’t even see us. Like he wasn’t himself.
It was real.
Whatever Reeves suspected, whatever the journalist hinted at—this wasn’t rumor anymore. It was here, in the bodies of men she worked beside. And it was only a matter of time before more of them broke.
Emily pressed a hand against her chest, forcing her breathing steady. When she finally looked up, the mirror over the sink caught her reflection: the neat uniform, the calm face of a professional medic. No one would ever guess how fast her heart was racing.
She straightened. If anyone came in, they’d see only a competent soldier, doing her job. Nothing more.
But inside, she knew—today had changed everything.
- Writer
