Jimmy's check-in was done.
The patient was still sleeping, oblivious to the rhythmic hiss, whir and beep of the myriad machines surrounding the bed. Lights, buttons, casings, switches. Some of the boxes were connected to the unconscious man through thick tubes, pads and needles; some were connected to other machines. The overall effect was one of an experiment rather than a treatment. The unconscious man's chest fell and rose in a state of steady fitfulness; shallow breaths threatening to spill over into coughing at any second. But the readouts, gauges and monitors gave no cause for concern, so there was work to be done elsewhere.
Moving to leave, Jimmy reached for the door handle without breaking his stride but then everything slowed. His brain only took a second to register what was happening. That second seemed to last minutes. As he pushed downward, the smooth, L-shaped, aluminium door handle squirmed in his grasp. His wrist still moved downward in the correct direction, but there was no audible 'click' from the latch. A slimy wetness brushed over the back of Jimmy's hand, while the rod he gripped grew thicker, slithering through his grip.
Looking down now, the orderly could see his hand around a pulsating tentacle, expanding as it thrust through a hole where the door handle should be attached, extruding itself into the room as it coiled noiselessly onto the carpet. Aware that he'd been holding his breath, Jimmy inhaled sharply and turned to look at the patient. He half expected to see some crouched, gloating mass of teeth and feelers perched atop the bed, but no - Mr Belmont lay exactly as he had moments earlier; breathing restlessly but in no state of harm or distress. The light mounted above the machine in the far corner of the room was illuminated, though.
The light was red.
The patient was dreaming.
Jimmy started to panic. A bell began ringing out in the corridor. He'd been warned about this, he'd been trained in the drill. The alarm meant others had been automatically alerted to the situation so were probably on their way here now. All Jimmy had to do was administer a sedative to keep the patient stable and bring him back below the REM-state. But the tentacle snaking up his leg wouldn't allow him to cross back to the bed.
He felt a sharp scratching at his stomach, even though the probing feeler hadn't reached his torso yet. Jimmy lifted his shirt, and widened his eyes as he knew this would soon be over. In the centre of his body was a round, angry, gaping hole, lined with rings of small sharp teeth, spiralling back through a gnashing, undulating throat that receded into himself far as he could see from this angle. While the skin around the… the mouth? …itched and burned, Jimmy couldn't feel any sensation from inside of it. This mouth might be in him but it wasn't his. It was appearing from somewhere, somewhen, else and using Jimmy's torso as a portal. He didn't dare touch it.
But the hole was already getting larger, rippling as if unfolding outwards. Flesh was simultaneously torn and somehow absorbed inward. God knows what was coming. Mr Belmont continued dreaming of unseen spheres, but physics and biology still mattered in the hospital room. His spinal column now severed, Jimmy collapsed as he was eaten from the inside out…
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• Short stories © WorldOfBlackout.co.uk, all entries are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Y'know, mostly.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.