Potential trigger warning for this chapter: There is death. Lots of it. But this is a disaster story, so what did you expect?
I would like to thank everyone who has supported this story thus far. I greatly appreciate favorites, follows, and feedback; I'd like to know what I am doing right and what I can still work on.
DARIUS ASHLAND, 18
That afternoon was pretty uneventful. For the most part, I just sat around in Christian's home, nursing my poor, bruised tail and watching what was on TV.
For the most part, it wasn't good news.
The anchors on Vulpix News, as well as OHNN (One Hoenn News Network), weren't necessarily all doom-and-gloom, but the news was presented with a rather pessimistic slant to it. Of course, when covering a natural disaster such as a volcanic eruption, it was rather difficult to talk about it any other way.
I changed the channel a few times, but all I got were infomercials and cartoons meant for people far younger than myself, even younger than Xander's age.
Xander's age at death, I mean.
In order to avoid getting choked up, I would look away from the television and focus on making sure Dalgona didn't tackle me. Even though Christian had promised she'd be in her Pokeball the rest of the day, I still half expected this to happen at any moment. And yet, if it did, I wouldn't be prepared for it; it's funny how things work sometimes.
Speaking of Christian, I didn't talk to him very much that afternoon either. He was up in his room, playing video games, and I was tempted to join him just for old times' sake. But those times would never come back, and I had to accept that cold, hard truth.
At one point he brought down a sandwich for me, but I recoiled at the smell of it. Perhaps it was just because I'd switched species (indeed, this was probably the reason), but I didn't have any appetite for the sandwich. I knew, somehow, that it would make me sick.
I explained this intuition to Christian, and he seemed to understand, but I still felt guilty at having dismissed the sandwich so easily. After all, he'd made it for me, so he was surely insulted.
All that was left now was to wait for Christian's parents to come home. According to my best friend, however, that was going to be a while.
"My parents are doctors; you know that" he said as he brought down some Poke Treats for me. "They're extra-busy with the influx of patients to the hospital. Man, I wish I could be like them, but I can't."
I nodded. "Yeah, that's gotta be rough. I can't imagine what it must be like."
How many people did they watch die? How many families have they had to look in the eyes of and say, "Sorry, we couldn't save your loved one?"
So that I didn't ponder these questions for too long, I began eating the Poke Treats. They tasted pretty good, which was a rather scary thought; was I losing my humanity? My tendency to prefer pizza, fries, and burgers, as opposed to mere kibble?
It was also rather shameful to be eating like a Pokemon. Even if they did have the same status as humans, I wasn't used to shoveling food into my mouth with just paws. To say the very least, eating neatly was basically impossible for me.
Christian ate his homemade quesadilla beside me on the couch as we watched news coverage of the field hospital. In the middle of a segment covering the one at the Kota Convention Center, my friend pointed directly at the TV screen.
"That's my dad!" he exclaimed.
Although the doctor was covered in full PPE, it only took me a few seconds of examination to see that, yes, it was Christian's father. The family resemblance was uncanny, and besides, I'd seen Erik Forest before on numerous occasions.
Dr. Forest spoke into the reporter's microphone, practically spitting out each word. "I've been through a lot of flu seasons at the hospital. I've seen a lot of multi-vehicle crashes in which many people needed care. And let me tell you, neither of those can compare to what's taking place now at the convention center."
"Please describe the ailments people are coming in with, Dr. Forest."
"Well, they usually come in a bit hypoxic, since they've inhaled a great deal of smoke and the air quality is quite hazardous. A few of them get injured in car accidents thanks to the congested streets of Oldale Town; it's a bad, bad situation."
"Is there anything ordinary people can do in order to help?" the reporter asked, his tone rising hopefully at the end of that question.
Dr. Forest shrugged, dashing the reporter's hope. "Well, they can stay off the roads. Don't take this the wrong way, but do everything you can to avoid becoming our patient. In addition, it will make the streets less congested, allowing the emergency vehicles to get to their destinations more quickly."
Christian and I both nodded; it sounded like reasonable advice. The doctor's next suggestion, however, got our attention. He said the following words with authority, his face beaded with sweat beneath his face mask.
"If anyone wants to help out at the field hospital, feel free to do so. While you can't do advanced procedures, there's no reason you can't assist us with paperwork. Anything to lighten the load on us health care workers is greatly appreciated."
Christian's eyes lit up. "We should do that, Darius!"
"Help out?"
"Yes! I know that I'm never going to be a doctor, but this is the next best thing. Besides, I want to do whatever I can to help the community recover from this horrific tragedy."
I was more than a little apprehensive about volunteering at a field hospital. The mere sight of a needle often made me feel squeamish, so I had little hope that I'd be able to deal with such tasks.
But then I recalled what Christian's father had just said on TV, and I realized that I wouldn't have to. All I'd need to do was head there, perhaps help with some administrative work, and then leave. And then I'd feel like I was doing something to ameliorate the crisis.
"Fair enough," I replied. "Let's do it. Do we have to sign up for a shift?"
My friend shook his head. "I think they'll just let us come in whenever. They are pretty desperate for staff, after all, even in the best of times."
And so, I now knew what the next day was going to look like. Even if the prospect was daunting, it was a relief to know that I'd be doing something to help the Oldale Region. I'd be doing something, rather than sitting on Christian's couch and doing nothing.
At some point I headed up to the guest room in order to get some sleep. Having to brush my teeth was one thing I didn't miss from being human; although I'd been lying around almost all day, it had somehow made me feel more tired.
It took some time for me to fall asleep in such an unfamiliar bed, but when I did, a rather strange dream ensued.
In my dream, I was running on a winding path up a mountain. The stench of smoke was thick in the air, and visibility off to the side was pretty limited. There was someone by my side, however - someone I didn't recognize.
He was a middle-aged man, rather burly in terms of build, with thinning dark brown hair. Although he didn't look like he was built for running, he was able to keep up with me rather easily; indeed, I was the one at greater risk of falling behind.
Neither of us spoke; we needed all our precious air for keeping up the pace. Exactly what we were running towards or away from was anyone's guess.
Suddenly, the man clutched a hand to his chest and groaned in pain. I gasped as I realized what could be happening.
He's having a heart attack! He must be!
I had no phone with me to dial for emergency services; even if I had, the chance of there being reception this high up was slim to none, slim having just left town.
"Are you okay, sir?" I asked the man, panic in my voice. After Xander, I couldn't stand to watch anyone else die; I just couldn't.
The man nodded. "It's normal…this happens…every month. Right around…this time, too. What a shame…forgot about it…forgot to take it…".
He was ranting and raving like a lunatic, and my only thought was: Do you have a heart attack every month? That's probably not good.
Seconds later, the man doubled over. I could hear his bone structure rearrange itself; it sounded like all of his pieces of cartilage were breaking in quick succession, one after another.
The man had been wearing a blue T-shirt and gray shorts, perfect for running in, but those clothes quickly ripped apart and fell to the ground. I didn't see the man naked, however, for he was quickly covered in something far warmer than clothes.
Soon, his back was covered in tufts of white fur. His face was made up of red and dark brown fur, and his eyes were the color of cherry pie. The man turned towards me, showing off two rows of brilliantly sharp teeth.
He's a were-Lycanroc! And he's coming for me now, isn't he?
In response to my thoughts, the Lycanroc ran towards me, and I swiftly turned around and started sprinting down the mountain. I hadn't realized just how steep the trail was; I had to take the path slowly in order to avoid falling onto my face.
In addition, I could feel the were-Lycanroc's hot breath against my back. I had to move carefully so that I didn't trip, but I also had to move quickly so that I didn't get bitten.
And then, the worst possible thing happened. The ground shook, and there was a heaven-rending sound in the air, which resonated like a gargantuan cannon blast.
Everything shook, and that's the last thing I remember happening in the dream.
I sat bolt upright in bed, clutching a hand to my heart just like that man had in my nightmare. My most important organ threatened to beat right through my ribcage; it was almost audible.
It wasn't real, I told myself, trying to calm my heart down. Just a dream. I'm not actually running off a volcano, trying to escape from a bloodthirsty were-Lycanroc.
Of course, it didn't take me long to remember that reality was nearly as horrifying as my dream. It had only been a day (no, three) since Mt. Koru had decided to blow its lid, but it had destroyed much of what I cared about.
I got out of bed rather gingerly; I still wasn't very confident in my new Buizel body. With every step, I held out an arm rather like a blind person's cane, or, perhaps more appropriately, like the wing of an airplane. I was feeling around for where to take the next step.
On the way downstairs to the kitchen, I clung to the railing for dear life. It was all I had to keep me from wiping out in a dramatic fashion.
There was one human in the kitchen when I finally arrived. There was one Pokemon as well. It shouldn't be too difficult for you to figure out which two individuals these were.
"Good morning, Darius," Christian told me, turning around from whatever he was cooking on the stove. "They'll expect us at the convention center as soon as possible; I already called my dad, and they said to get there before rush hour truly begins. We don't want the streets to be too crowded."
I realized then just how little sleep Mr. and Mrs. Forest must have been getting. They were so busy with patients that they hadn't had time to see me since I'd become a Buizel.
And my heart absolutely broke for them; of course, I had little time to process this, since I was also dealing with my brother being gone.
Dalgona was also at the table, and she glared at me every minute or so. Even though she didn't yell at me or anything like that, I could tell that we were on a collision course. I feared what would happen if we were alone together.
Christian set two plates of kibble in front of us, and as you can imagine, it felt rather dehumanizing to be forced to eat it. Of course, I wasn't human anymore, but that didn't excuse being treated like an animal.
He's not treating me like an animal, though. He's my best friend.
The food wasn't that bad, but every bite made me feel more and more ashamed of my new body. Had I still been a human, this food would likely have made me sick; for better or worse, they had different standards for making Pokemon food than human food. Lower standards.
Breakfast passed quickly, and then Christian said it was time to go. When he told us this, Dalgona's eyebrows perked up.
"Can I come with you guys?" the Braixen asked her master, eyes clearly pleading for this opportunity.
Christian frowned. "Why do you want to come with us?"
"Because I want to help. And otherwise I'll have nothing to do all day."
Welcome to my world, I thought bitterly.
My friend shrugged. "I don't see why not. But please do not attack Darius during our time there. It's very disruptive."
Dalgona gave me an expression that suggested she didn't intend on following Christian's directions. There was a veiled threat there, but she also clearly understood that she couldn't act upon it, either here or at the field hospital.
"I won't," she insisted.
With that, the three of us piled into Christian's car. Dalgona took the front seat, since she was already known as a Pokemon, and I took the backseat yet again. This made me wonder something else…
To what extent does the world know about my condition? Do they all know that I became a Buizel, or did none of them see me when I left the convention center yesterday?
It wasn't long before I realized the most likely answer. Of course the public knew; after all, if I could recall correctly, the people at Vulpix News had mentioned a few people becoming Pokemon after the disaster.
Why hadn't I been paying better attention? Well, probably because I was still so focused on Xander.
Christian had told us to leave early so as to beat the traffic. Unfortunately, we hadn't quite managed to do that. Along the way to the Kota Convention Center in downtown Oldale, it seemed like we hit every red light there was. Several times, ambulances ran red lights; of course, they were allowed to do this, but the fact that they startled me, in addition to my lack of confidence in my paws to work the gas and brake pedals, made me very happy I wasn't driving.
We arrived at the convention center, and immediately I saw several news vans right outside. There was OHNN, Vulpix News, CNN, you name it. All of them seemingly served one purpose, and one purpose only: To make me feel as uncomfortable as possible when I walked into the building.
Fortunately, the reporters here didn't seem too rabid; none of them came up to me and demanded an interview. Then again, they might not have known I was the specific Buizel they were interested in.
Ah, who am I kidding? They do know that, because I'm with Christian Forest. They might not know who I am, but they know who he is, since his father works here!
Once we were inside the convention center, the three of us came up to a burly dark-haired man with a thick beard. He was evidently the closest thing this field hospital had to a secretary.
"What business do you have here? Is this Buizel Darius Ashland?"
I felt half the blood in my body rush into my cheeks as soon as the secretary said this. Fortunately, Christian and I had an unspoken agreement that he'd do all the talking.
"Yes, it is. I'm Christian Forest, the Buizel is Darius, and the Braixen is Dalgona. We're all here to help out any way we can."
The secretary's ears perked up. "Christian Forest, you say? Your father's a doctor here, then?"
Christian nodded. "Yeah, he is. He'll be happy to see us, although I'm sure he's very busy."
"He is. He's extremely busy. He might not have too much time to talk, but he'll still be proud of you three once he sees you're helping. Anyway, head on to the table at the back of the convention center, and there you guys will find some paperwork to file."
After the three of us thanked him for letting us assist, we headed through what was once the concession stand of the building before it became this makeshift hospital. Now that I was no longer a patient here, I was less preoccupied with my own condition; rather, I got a better glimpse at what other patients were going through.
The convention hall could have fit twenty sanctuaries of the First Church of Arceus within it. Dividers had been set up between each patient, making the "rooms" look more like office cubicles than anything else.
Moans, groans, and gasps punctuated the space. For the sake of patient confidentiality, a standard that had to be maintained even in times of crisis, there were curtains set up, so we couldn't see what species individual patients were.
I did know one thing, though: Like any hospital, there was a great deal of suffering contained within it. Even if it's where the patients needed to be, my heart ached at the sheer amount of anguish that permeated the air within this hall.
Finding the table the secretary had mentioned wasn't too difficult. There was one where a few older people sat, folding papers and sealing envelopes. There was also one laden with medical supplies; since we couldn't be trusted to perform actual procedures, I believed the former table was ours.
"What are you guys doing, making get-well-soon cards for the patients?" Dalgona asked scathingly.
Christian glared at his Braixen. "Dalgona, be nice, okay?"
One of the men, probably in his late sixties, looked up at Dalgona. He didn't seem angry, even though I probably would have been in his situation; perhaps it's easier to forgive people the older you get.
"It's okay," the old man told Christian. "I'm sure she didn't mean to offend us. But to answer your question, it's just paperwork we're mailing to other field hospitals throughout the Oldale Region. Patient records, billing, what have you."
"Oh" Dalgona mouthed, her lips forming the shape of the letter she'd just pronounced. She frowned after that, in a motion that might have been even better described as pouting.
And so we got to work folding up bits of paperwork and putting them in the envelopes. It wasn't the most exciting task, but all three of us were keen to help out wherever they needed us.
Although the job itself wasn't very difficult, distractions did occur. Every so often, my eyes would be torn away from the piece of paper I was folding (not that I was supposed to be looking at the paper's contents) by a loud, highly disruptive noise.
It could be a baby crying, or a grown man moaning, or even the sound of silence, perhaps the most oppressive noise of all. For within each period of silence, there remained the possibility, the inevitability, that the quiet would be pierced by a scream.
Whenever the silence would occur for an extended period of time, I would look up from whatever I was doing and watch the clock for a few seconds. It was an enormous analog clock, ten feet in diameter, which hung on the wall closest to where we'd entered the convention center.
Speaking of the entrance, new patients were constantly streaming in through said passage. I could see a few Pokemon being discharged, their bodies having healed up more quickly than human bodies, but on the whole, many more people were arriving than departing.
How much longer can this keep up? No wonder Dr. Forest seemed so stressed during his interview.
The minutes ticked by at a Goomy's pace. It was rather paradoxical, because the field hospital was buzzing with activity, but every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour.
The worst part of this task was when two muscular men in full PPE walked by us. They were carrying a large black bag between them, but something told me that this bag did not contain medical supplies. Christian and I looked at each other, grimacing, before the old man nearby barked at us to get back to work.
Dalgona, meanwhile, seemed to be taking the job quite seriously. She had to be quite careful not to let her sharp claws rip up any of the papers, but she was doing a good job of that. Her eyes remained focused, fixed on each sheet of paper, but I almost feared she was looking too closely at each paper, to the point that she'd be violating patients' privacy.
A few minutes later, the body of an Umbreon, hard to discern amidst the black cloth it was tucked into, was carried by the same two men as before. There was a tag around one of its legs. None of us said anything about that, but we all knew the truth about what had just happened to that Umbreon.
It served as a brutal reminder, if it were even needed, that any of our existences could end right here, right now, for any reason. Life on this planet was fleeting and fragile; that was a lesson this Umbreon had learned the hard way.
Needless to say, it was hard to get back to work after that. Every time I blinked, the image of the Umbreon being carried away in a body bag was burned into my retinas.
We worked in this way for several hours. Every once in a while the same thing would happen; there would be what sounded like a heart monitor flatlining, loudly enough that the whole area would be able to hear it. I would have greatly appreciated having earplugs.
A couple doctors and nurses would race to the patient whose monitor had stalled, and they could be heard doing chest compressions, using a defibrillator, etc. Sometimes they were successful at bringing the patient back, but their celebrations were muted; they sounded more relieved and exhausted than overjoyed.
More often than not, a body bag would be carried to that particular cubicle, and when it was carried back in our direction, there would be a human or Pokemon within it, their eyes closed, their chest not moving at all.
Tears streamed down my face as I kept doing my job. Of course, I was hardly getting anything accomplished; on several occasions, my tears ended up getting on the paper, and I would apologize profusely to the old man (who seemed to be one of the managers here.)
Just when I thought that I'd gotten back into the swing of things, there would be another flatline. Every time this happened, I remembered something heartbreaking.
Each flatlining monitor was attached to a patient. Each patient was somebody's parent, somebody's child. Someone's best friend. Someone's inseparable Pokemon partner. To most people these would only be a number, but to someone they were their world.
By the time our shift ended, I was sighing in relief at our deliverance from this nightmarish setting. Even so, I felt confident that I'd hear the flatlining monitors in my dreams that night.
Yes, this story doesn't take place in the US, or even on Earth, but CNN just stands for Cable News Network. It seems like a pretty innocuous name to me, so I chose to include it.
I promise, from here on out, I will restrict updates to twice a week. Mondays and Thursdays. I couldn't help myself today, but I'll try and exercise better restraint in the future. With that, have a wonderful weekend!