When I was younger, my older brother would take me with his friends to an abandoned hospital in our neighborhood. I was the youngest in our group, but his friends didn’t mind. They always considered me mature for my age. I had always seen it as his friends were immature for their age. Most times, I would stick with my older brother as we explored different areas of the hospital. As his friends would explore around the hospital making havoc, we would walk into each room and create stories about the patients based on the stuff that was left behind. His friends would pop in here and there and try to scare us. My brother was fearless, so their attention was always on me. I used to love hearing my brother’s stories though. He was a natural-born storyteller. I could feel the emotion behind each patient’s story he’d tell as if I was reliving it myself. The detail, the feelings, and the vision behind each story give me chills to this day. It’s almost as if he knew each patient personally. But there was one story about a man named Henry that still haunts me until this day. I’ll be honest; I will probably butcher retelling his story, but I will do my best.
-–
The doctor runs up to a nurse with a clipboard in hand. From over her shoulder, he notices the nurse’s hand on the clipboard shaking and covered in blood. The doctor puts his hand on her shoulder.
Doctor: What do we have?
The nurse turns around and the doctor notices she’s perspiring profusely. Her eyes were dilated, and it looked like she was trying to catch her breath.
Nurse: White, male, blue eyes, blonde hair, mid-30s, average build, 6’2, puncture on the right abdomen, and collapsed lung.
Doctor: The puncture was that severe, huh?
Nurse: He’s not bleeding out, but the object is still inside him. I think it may be the object preventing him from bleeding out.
Doctor: Have we identified the object?
Nurse: No, doctor.
Doctor (thinking): We can’t risk an X-ray or CAT scan if it’s metal.
Doctor: Okay, follow me.
The doctor and nurse walked down the hallway and the man’s yelling echoed louder and louder the closer they got to the room. When they finally enter the room, they see the man on the stretcher restrained, and two male nurses on his right trying to hold the man’s arm down to inject cortisone.
Nurse: He’s… it… it’s like he’s possessed.
The doctor looks over at the nurse in the entryway of the room and notices her body shaking. He looks at the male nurses.
Doctor: Ben, Scott what’s going on?
Ben: He’s… He’s too strong.
Scott: I don’t want the needle to break if I go for it.
The doctor runs over and tries to grab the man’s hand. Before he can grab the man’s hand, Ben trips over his feet trying to gain his balance. Ben bumps into the doctor, and the doctor falls to the floor. The doctor feels a pinch on his calf. When he looks down, he realizes their collision caused Ben to drop the syringe, which then punctured the doctor’s calf, and Ben’s flailing arm pushed the syringe enough to break off the needle in the doctor’s calf. The nurse runs over and kneels down beside the doctor.
Nurse: Doctor Harrison!
Harrison: I’m alright. Ben, you okay?
Ben: Oh, my god! Doctor Harrison! I’m so sorry!
Harrison: It’s okay. Do you have your tweezers?
Scott: I hate to be a dick but can someone help me?! This man is out of control!
The nurse puts her hands on her forehand and slowly starts to pull them back through her hair. She starts to cry.
Harrison: Jackie. Look at me! You can do this.
Jackie looks at Doctor Harrison. She slowly nods her head in agreement.
Harrison: Repeat after me. “I got this!”
Nurse: I got this. I… I got this.
Harrison: That’s it. You got this. Now, help Scott.
Jackie gets up from the floor and runs over to Scott. She gets a hold of the man’s arm, but she immediately starts struggling. Harrison looks at Ben.
Harrison: Ben, tweezers.
Ben: Right, right.
Ben pats his scrubs from quad pant pockets to back pockets to chest pocket.
Ben: I think I dropped them.
Harrison realizes Ben shaking as well. He tries to use a calm voice.
Harrison: That’s okay. That’s okay. Get one from behind you.
Ben turns around and sees a cabinet. He opens the cabinet and starts shuffling through the shelves. Every time the man in the stretcher yells, Ben flinches. Doctor Harrison looks down at his calf and notices blood coming out from the top of the needle.
Harrison (thinking): I can’t think with this man screaming. Okay, Harrison. Focus! Assess the situation. The man on the gurney is bleeding out. I got a glimpse of the wound. I can’t determine if the material was metal or not, but it seems like it looked like it was broken off inside of him. Did someone attack him?
Doctor Harrison looks down at his leg.
Harrison (thinking): I’m losing a lot of blood. I can’t risk putting pressure to stop the bleeding. If the needle goes any deeper, I’m in trouble.
Doctor Harrison starts to get lightheaded.
Harrison: Ben? What’s the holdup?
Ben: I’m sorry, Doctor. I can’t find anything.
Harrison: Just give me a scalpel!
Ben runs back with a scalpel.
Ben: Doctor, are you sure?!
Harrison grabs the scalpel from Ben.
Harrison: Okay, here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to make an incision next to the needle’s entry point. Once I do, I’m going to push down on each side and you need to grab that needle out, you hear me, Ben? Don’t let it slip into my leg.
Ben: Yes. Yes, sir!
Harrison: Okay. On the count of…
The guy on the stretcher - still yelling and resisting, shakes off Jackie. With only Scott hanging on, the man rocks left and right. He continues to shake until the gurney rocks over to one side of the castors. The slick floor causes the gurney to slip, Ben falls back and falls onto doctor Harrison pushing doctor Harrison’s hand down with the scalpel penetrating his calf muscle. The blood starts to ooze out and part of the soleus muscle pokes out. Jackie yells and the man on the stretcher pushes the full weight of his chest onto Ben’s leg.
Ben: Get off of me! What’s wrong with you?!
Man: Give me what I want!
Ben: I don’t… What are you talking about? Get off!
Ben punches the man and the man yells. He looks at Ben first and then bites his calf muscle. Ben begins to yell.
Ben: Scott!!
Scott: Oh my god!
Jackie faints and falls straight back onto her back. Her head bounces twice on the impact. Doctor Harrison can feel himself fading. He looks over to his left and notices the bed’s control. He reaches for it and presses the help button. His eyesight starts to blur but notices someone at the door. Their hands went directly to cover their mouth and heard a small gasp. Scott, standing over the man, is seen trying to pull his shoulders away from Ben, but the man’s jaw remained on Ben’s calf. Ben’s eyes start to roll back as the woman who entered the room starts to smack the back of the man’s head.
Scott: Helen, no! The hospital can get sued!
Helen: Fuck the hospital! Look at Doctor Harrison and Ben. They’re just about ready to pass out. What the hell happened in here?
Scott: The man… the man is possessed.
Helen closes her hands into fists and starts to punch the back of the man’s head.
Helen: Let go! I said, let go!
The man pulls on the calf and quickly turns his gaze at Helen. Helen takes a few steps back and ends up tripping over Ben. She tries to catch her fall but ends up falling back and hitting her head on the cabinet.
Scott: Helen!!
The man turns to Scott.
Man: Let… go.
Scott’s fear takes over his body, but his gaze looks past the man to Ben’s calf.
Scott: Wha…What have you done?
The man smiles.
Man: Your friend tasted… yummy.
The man purposely starts widening his eyes as he stares at Scott then slowly looks at Scott’s hand resting on his shoulder.
Man: I wonder… how you taste.
Scott immediately lets go and takes a few steps back toward the doorway. He slowly looks over to his left and sees the back of Nurse Jackie’s head bleeding out. He scans his eyes over to Doctor Harrison and blood is still spewing out of his calf. He can see Ben’s femur as the man hangs over Ben’s lifeless body still strapped to the bed. The man remained unphased with the foreign object now sticking out of his abdomen. It looked like a small, wooden handle piece broken off in him.
Scott (thinking): How is this man still conscious of losing all that blood from that wound? What just fucking happened? Is this real?!
Scott looks over at Helen. Her eyes remained open staring directly ahead of her.
Scott: H…Helen?
The man looks from Scott over to Helen.
Man: She looks… dead, friend.
Scott looks at the man. The man’s eyes were still on Helen, and a grin slowly molds on his face.
Scott: We are not friends.
Scott walks towards the man.
Scott: We were just trying to help you! What’s wrong with you?!
The man manically starts to laugh. Scott can feel his anger getting the best of him. As he cranks his arm back, the police and additional staff enter the room. One of the officers grabs Scott from behind and pulls him away from the man.
Scott: No!!! This man deserves to die!!
Officer: Contain yourself!
The officer drags Scott out of the room. Scott continues to yell as he’s being pulled. With his eyes locked on the man, the man peered over his shoulder, still constrained, with a smile. Blood trickled down his lips and blood outlined his individual teeth. His face looked like a splattered tomato on the wall. His eyes remained wide.
Scott: You’re a sick man! Sick!!
The man continues to peer at Scott as officers and staff lift the gurney upright. The man laughs gently, but Scott can hear his laugh as if he were standing right next to him. Bodies flowed back and forth in the room interrupting their view. Though Scott was immediately escorted out, it felt as if they were staring at each other for hours. The man’s intense eyes and bloodied teeth have been stamped in his memory for eternity.
-–
Hours later.
Scott was sitting on a bench down the hallway from the room with his uniform still covered in blood. He had his arms resting on his knees as he stared into his hands. He waited hours until the officer who had dragged Scott out of the room informed him that Helen, Doctor Harrison, Jackie, and Ben had perished.
Scott: Who was that man?
Officer: We still don’t know. He keeps giving us pseudonyms every time. But he admitted he was cannibalistic. I’m sorry about your friends, Scott.
Scott: Did anyone try to help him with his injury?
Officer: Yes. He’s been seen about that. I believe they’re stitching him up right now.
Scott remained silent. The officer sighs.
Officer: I hate to abruptly leave you like this, Scott. When you’re ready, please stop by the station so we can get your full perspective on record. Here’s my card. Please let us know if you need any help. I also wrote down the name of a specialist. This is a traumatic event. Please don’t try to deal with this on your own. Talk to someone. Don’t let it overwhelm you. For the time being, this is officer Barton. He will escort you home.
Scott: Is that necessary?
Officer: Are you angry?
Scott: What?
Officer: Are you upset?
Scott: What kind of question is that?! Of course, I’m upset!!
Scott sits up and lets his back hit the wall. He can’t help but allow his expressive face to show his anger.
Officer: Officer Barton is here to help. We don’t want you doing anything irrational. Like going to that man’s room.
Scott: Why isn’t he behind bars yet?
Officer: You said it yourself. He’s sick. They’ll be transporting him to the looney bin.
Scott: Can I at least say my peace to that son of a bitch?
Officer: I’m afraid not, Scott. I hope you understand we’re doing this for your well-being.
Scott: Yes, I understand.
Officer: Very well. Take care, Scott.
Scott: Yeah.
The Officer walks away and turns the corner, out of sight.
Officer Barton: You ready?
Scott: Yeah, just um… I need to use the restroom.
Officer Barton: I’ll be here.
Scott nods and stands from the bench. He starts to walk down the hallway. Officer Barton realizes Scott is walking toward the room. He looks up at the ceiling, turns around, and looks down the hallway to see the restroom sign hanging. Scott looks over his shoulder and realizes Officer Barton was aware.
Officer Barton: Scott, no!
Scott and Officer Barton start running. Scott takes out his scalpel from the pocket he had stashed earlier. Scott runs into the room, but another officer was inside the room. The officer grabs Scott and tackles him down on the ground.
Officer: Relax!
The officer grabs the scalpel from Scott’s hand.
Officer Barton: You fool!
Scott starts to yell and looks over at the man. The man had a muzzle over his mouth sitting on the bed, but Scott could still see his smile through it. The man’s eyes were no longer wide; rather, they were glaring at Scott this time. Scott’s name badge unclips from his uniform as they pick him up from the ground. The officers handcuffed Scott and walked him out. As Scott looked back one more time, a third officer is seen closing the door. The man and Scott lock eyes one last time before the door is completely shut. Scott can still hear his chaotic laugh ringing in his ear
-–
As my brother spoke the last words of his story while sitting on a gurney in one of the hospital rooms, I noticed he was holding something. From a distance, it looked like a playing card inside a protective sleeve. As I walked toward him, he handed me what looked like a dirty, old name badge. The name badge had a face of a man with curly hair with the hospital’s name at the top and, to my surprise, had the name Scott Herring at the bottom. I immediately got chills. I still do when I think about his story. The worst part wasn’t even the name badge. It was when my brother stood up and, on the gurney, sat an old, bloody-like muzzle. I didn’t want to show my brother fear, but that was the first time in my life that I wanted to run. My mind said, “run,” but my body wouldn’t move. My brother walked over and simply said, “relax, little brother. It’s just a story.”
Before he walked out of the room with his hands in his pockets, he leaned down at ear-level, and out from under his breath was a little, chaotic laugh.
From that day forward, I no longer visited the hospital with my brother. I gave him excuses why I couldn’t go. At one point, I think he caught on and stopped asking. Whenever I drive past that hospital, I think about that story, and I can’t help but picture a muzzle on a crazed man with wide eyes and blood in between his teeth simply laughing for the hell of it.