David Wong - This Book is Full of Spiders

“Good morning, Mr. Wong. How are we feeling today?”

“ Dr. Tennet? What the hell are you doing here?”

Am I dreaming this?

“If we just keep answering each other’s questions with questions this conversation won’t go anywhere, will it?”

“I’m feeling like shit. Why are you here?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Obviously not.”

“What do you remember?”

“A bunch of guys in space suits were shooting people in BB’s parking lot. Guts sprayed all over me. Next thing I know I’m chained to a bed in this prison. And now my therapist is here for some reason.”

“Prison? Is that where you think you are?”

“There are tiny rooms with locks and handcuffs and I can’t leave. Call it whatever you want. How long have I been here?”

“You honestly don’t remember? Anything at all?”

“No.”

“You’ve lost all memories from your arrival until now? Think hard for me.”

“I don’t remember anything, goddamnit.”

“I completely understand your agitation. But I’m going to have to beg for a little bit more of your patience. I’m part of the team sent to observe you and the others. We’re trying to get you well.”

He looked down and was doing something with his hands. Tapping on a laptop. Making notes. Immune to the sound of muffled suffering echoing down the hall behind me.

“Doctor, is somebody going to help those people back there?”

“That would be… ill-advised. I assure you that the patients who actually need help are receiving it. Again, this is not a prison.”

“So am I free to leave?”

“If I’m satisfied that you’ve stabilized, you’ll be free to rejoin the others in quarantine.”

“Where’s that?”

“Over at the hospital grounds. The primary quarantine area.”

“But I can’t leave there?”

“I’m afraid not. The government would have some very strong words for me if I were to let any of you wander out.”

“Where am I now?”

“In the old Ffirth Asylum, the abandoned TB hospital just down the street. Temporary REPER command center and patient processing.”

I thought he said “raper” and decided then and there that I had lost my mind.

“The who command center?”

“R-E-P-E-R. Rapid Exotic Pathogen Eradication slash Research. A not widely publicized task force for situations like this.”

“ What situations are ‘like this’?”

“You and I have had this conversation before, by the way. I know what you’re about to ask next.”

“Are John and Amy here?”

“And once again, I can tell you we have three Johns—Washington, Rawls and Perzynski. But no Amys.”

I had a dozen follow-up questions: Were they okay? Did they get out of town? Where were they now? But I knew this asshole wouldn’t answer them.

“Wait, did you say ‘rejoin’? So I’ve been in quarantine before?”

“We brought you over for testing, but we’re ready to transport you back.”

“Testing.”

“Yes, we’re still trying to perfect our method of detecting the infection.”

“And this test wiped out my memory.”

“That’s merely a side effect, one I do believe is temporary.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Here, or in quarantine in general?”

“Let’s go for the second one.”

“Ever since the outbreak.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Longer than most of us would have preferred to stay, let us just put it that way.”

Oh, fuck you.

“And you get to keep us here, forever, until you figure out how to cure the infection?”

“If you have a better idea, you be sure to let us know. Trust me, no one is enjoying this. The best thing you and everyone else can do is cooperate.”

He finished his laptop work with a flourish of key taps and looked me in the eye.

“So. In that spirit, tell me how you are feeling.”

“Why is it dark in here?”

“Electricity is out to much of the town. We have diesel generators but they are insufficient for the whole facility, so we are forced to pick and choose. Other than your missing memory, are you having any other symptoms? Dreams, hallucinations?”

“Well if I was, I wouldn’t remember them, would I? You know, because I’m missing my goddamned memory.”

“Of course. How are you feeling, physically?”

“I have a headache and my joints hurt.”

“Those are expected side effects of the tranquilizers and being bedridden, and also should pass quickly. Do you remember why you were put under tranquilizers in the first place?”

“Any question you ask me that begins with the words ‘do you remember’ is going to be answered with ‘no.’”

“Ha. Understood! Do you feel like you are up to rejoining the others?”

“The others? How many others are there? Can you tell me that?”

“In the primary quarantine area? Nearly five hundred. At one time.”

Jesus Christ.

“And how many of them are people like me, who you know goddamned well aren’t infected?”

“Now David, can’t you see that I do not know that?”

“Do I fucking look infected?”

“Ah, I see. Due to being muddled by the medication, you are missing some key information about our circumstances. It turns out that appearances are not a perfect indication of infection. Not, unfortunately, until it’s too late. So hopefully you understand that we must take precautions.”

“Dr. Tennet, can you hear the fucking people behind me, screaming for help? Can you hear them over this intercom thing?”

“Which people? The gentleman asking for help with his wife? We lost two staff members trying to help that man’s poor ‘wife.’ If you open that door, you’ll indeed find what looks like a very frail, wounded woman. If you get within striking distance, you’ll find that woman is the transfigured tongue of a grindworm.”

“A what ?”

“I’m sorry, we have to come up with names for the organisms the parasite transforms its victims into. Without getting into detail, let me just say that we spent sixteen hours trying to recover our two staff members from the creature, their screams echoing down this hall the entire night, and next day, as they were slowly twisted to pieces. The creature has been spitting splinters of their bones under its door ever since. So hopefully you’ll understand why we’re leaving that door locked. ‘Fool me once,’ as they say.”

“So… you just lock everybody up and wait for us to turn monster?”

“As I said, we’re making progress. But, regardless, this conversation is only wasting time and taxpayer money at this point, when all I need to know is if you feel up to joining the others out in the fresh air and sunshine of the hospital lawn. We need your room, to be perfectly frank.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Great, great. If you turn to your right and continue down that hall, you’ll find an elevator.”

“And then what will—”

The monitor blinked off.

One of the two guys behind me told me to hold still, and unlocked my cuffs and leg irons. He pointed, and through a speaker in his helmet said, “End of the hall.”

I said, “What about the girl?”

“Sir, move to the end of the hall.”

“There was a little girl in my room, named Anna. I don’t know if she snuck in and back out or what but she was in there right before you guys arrived.”

The guy gave a glance to his partner. Uncertainty? The partner said, “Move to the elevator, or you’re going back to the room.”

I obeyed, my unsteady footsteps echoing in a dim hallway where the only illumination was dribbling out of a set of emergency lights to my left. Way down at the end was a barely lit elevator standing open.