Empty void. A world beyond where house upon house holds secrets. She knows this. It beckons the darkness from the very back of her mind and still she grits her teeth to hold on tight to her sanity. Of course I could not tell you if she's fallen in too deep or not. What I can tell you is that she was so preoccupied in the thoughts around her that she didn't even see the headlights pulling in on her fast.
Deep breath. The car stops. Through the blinding gleam a head appears, "What the Hell are you doing just standing there?" She asks, "Get the fuck in the car!"
It's Katelyn Tarver, Kendall's on screen romance.
Malese rushes to the passenger door and pulls it open to find Katelyn behind the wheel of her Mercedes and in the back seat sporting her signature big glasses and geeky attire Kendall's on screen sibling Ciarra Bravo.
"What are you doing here?" Malese cries.
"Kendall texted me. Said we were needed for a reprise. Guess it's time to put the robes back on." The door slamming was Katelyn's cue to take off.
Malese looks back at Ciarra, "explain her words please."
"Kendall says he needs us to come to the warehouse and that we need to bring our acting game. Logan's in danger and honestly it all sounds very sketchy." Responds the youngest of the three from her spot in the back of the cab.
Passing headlights illuminate their otherwise dark faces as they speed off down the highway.
"It is sketchy..." says Malese, "but I think it's a good idea that none of us break character."
"Are you saying we need to pretend we're still in the series?" Asks Ciarra.
Malese shakes her head, "No. Tonight is a night of improvisation."
Just above the, hovering over the car out of sight, is Jack Frost. About a mile away the snow storm bellows even more and Jack knows this weather is not the kind he controls. Rather the ninth circle is opening up and there's nothing anyone can do to keep it from swallowing the warehouse whole.
So swiftly he flies ahead.
Pulling down the visor before her Malese looks in the small mirror and doesn't see herself. Instead, as the snow falls faster around them, she sees Dr. Lucy Stone head of Cardiotherastic Surgery. Her eyes eclipse a bright red as before her, in detail, is a vibrant hallucination of a heart whipple. Each arty pulses, every blue and purple line rises to the surface of the tissue mass only to sink back inside, blue gloved hands stretch out before her and the needle pulls the thread so slowly.
The car comes to a sudden stop and the vision is gone.
On the side of the road is a vehicle, smoking and turned on it's side. Not just any vehicle, Jame's owns that car. Said driver is sprawled out next to the evergreens blocking the entrance into the woods.
Katelyn's the first one out. It's as though she knows exactly what to do.
She's at his side in a flash. Scarf is now a bandage around a broken leg, the contents in her purse dumped out and a gushing wound in his shoulder is patched for now. Pieces of the destroyed car lie out around them. When Malese is at her side Katelyn starts spitting demands, "The leather seat behind you. I need you to help me tie him too it."
"We can just wait for the ambulance." Malese tries to insist.
Katelyn glares at her, "We don't have time!"
So Malese complies.
Soon James is in the back seat with his head in Ciarra's lap and the four of them continue on their way down the eight mile loop past the art centers until they find the winding road.
"Woah! I thought we were going to a hospital." Malese cries.
Katelyn arches a brow, "Dr. Stone this is a hospital. It's the finest hospital in the tri-state area. You should know. You work here."
Malese looks back at Ciarra.
Ciarra shrugs, "Just go with it."
Malese's eyes find the path behind them. The ice has connected between the trees. There's no going back now.
Kendall is a man of words but here he doesn't know what to say. The patient, a child, taken from home and comfort for the sake of one mans mind. How fragile Logan must be for Kendall to be at a loss. His lips open and close as he hurries to find the phrases that may unlock something strong enough to keep Dr. Mitchell from making the first incision.
He stands with gloves over his freshly scrubbed hands, a cap around his head with embroidered moose, all the tools they need laid out around them in a room of silver glint and he's dressed in bright green. The colors of the hospital evoke mystery.
Carlos sits in a stool beside the patient holding her hand and fighting back tears in his eyes as she silently begs him for help he cannot offer. The illusion persists.
In reality three boys stand around a coffee table holding rusty blades from a box found in one of the rooms in the attic.
Cannabis hot boxes the room.
The hallucination thickens. To believe it is to make it true.
"Dr. Mitchell." Says Kendall, he's figured out how to play along, "Look at that screen over there. Is that what I think it is?"
Logan turns to view a monitor displaying scans of her brain. Fear washes over him, "No no no no. How did I miss this?"
Then he spirals even deeper into madness. Is there a way out when you're so invested you can see a growing mass in a scan that displays a perfectly healthy brain. Not even a scan. It's a white board and expo markers. The illustration it's self is an exact replica of a man in his late twenties that Dr. Mitchell worked on in an actual hospital before the pandemic.
"What do we do?" Asks Dr. Mitchell.
Carlos sighs and steels himself in confidence, "We could post pone the surgery until we no more. The tumor is pretty extensive, if we go with the original plan she could loose her memory."
"You are absolutely right Dr. PenaVega. Take the patient down to her room." Then he freezes and stairs into the dust particles swimming in the air before the heavy metal door he's locked the all inside for the procedure. His lips purse so slowly, "Incoming. It's a big one."