He drove the scissors into the last cocoon. The film split, and dark blood poured out, covering his hands. Some of it splashed against his face. Before he could wipe it away, a drop reached his lips.
The taste was very bitter. Then his head started to ache.
He fell to one knee, the scissors clattering beside him. The room tilted in slow motion, edges bending and glowing faintly red.
His heartbeat pounded behind his eyes, steady and loud. Every muscle in his body tightened as a strange heat spread through him, starting from his chest and crawling outward.
He pressed his hand to the floor to steady himself. The color around him deepened. The red felt more than just in his eyes, like it was in his body, he felt charged and very aware of himself.
Then it came.
A screech rang out through the building, shaking the floor underneath him. It didn't sound like any person could let go, no matter how afraid they were, but it felt like it had something else in it, something that sounded almost like sadness. The sound filled every corner of the room, both high and low, as if it emanated from everywhere.
The walls trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Silas stayed still, breathing through his teeth.
A few seconds later, there was another noise, this time softer but faster. Steps. There were dozens of them, reverberating down the halls in an inconsistent pace. They were going fast.
And they were coming closer.
He was able to calm down quickly, but the ache in his head still throbbed a little. He didn't want to know what could make that sound, because it wasn't human.
The running grew louder, spreading through the corridors in uneven waves. He knew he couldn't face that many. He glanced around, trying to remember the layout.
This was the Maternity Research Wing, first floor, first hallway. The name came back to him from the wall sign half torn beside the door.
He moved quickly. The hallway outside flickered with half-working lights, blood smeared along the walls in long, streaked handprints.
The floor was slippery with dried patches of it. There were no cocoons, even a single body wasn't at sight.
He ran. The exit wasn't far. He could already see the end of the corridor where the emergency doors should have been.
Then the ceiling above him cracked.
The sound was deep and short, followed by a heavy impact that shook the tiles loose.
Debris fell around him as a section of the roof split open. Something massive dropped through the hole and landed with a wet thud.
He immediately noticed the smell, which was strong and rotten, precisely like the room he had just been in but worse. Silas fell to the floor, covering his nose with his hand as he fell
The thing straightened slowly. It was tall, its body layered in dark flesh that glistened with slime.
A split of skin ran down its front like an open wound, and inside that cavity something moved, slow, heavy breathing that made the entire chest rise and fall.
From its back grew tendrils that twitched and curled, dripping with a clear fluid that hissed when it touched the floor.
The surface of its body pulsed faintly, veins showing through the thin red film that stretched over muscle.
At its center, a shape was buried, part human, part something else. A woman's face, half merged into the flesh, eyes glassy and unfocused. Her mouth opened slightly, releasing a long, trembling breath that didn't sound alive.
Thick drool ran from the edges of the creature's jaws, stringing down to the tiles before breaking apart. Every breath came with a wet click, and with each sound, Silas's stomach twisted tighter.
He had called the others monsters before. But this one redefined the word.
He could hear it murmuring, a faint, broken beat that came and went with each breath. The words were there, but they didn't make sense. Its thick, wet throat sound bent them as they rolled over each other.
Silas began to move, sliding backward inch by inch across the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the creature's shape, its surface twitching with small movements like something alive beneath the skin.
Then its head turned.
The eyes, if they were still eyes, shifted toward him, glassy and red around the edges. He froze. When he pushed himself up to run, a tendril snapped forward and wrapped around his leg. The pull lifted him clean off the ground, turning him upside down before he could even shout.
The pressure around his ankle was cold and wet, tightening as the tentacle raised him higher. He swung helplessly, the world turning in small circles. When he looked down, the creature was already pulling him closer.
He shut his eyes.
The tendril slid further up his leg, pressing through his clothes as it adjusted his position. His body turned upright, and for a moment he hung there in front of it, face to face.
The whisper came again, softer this time, almost pleading.
"Ashley…"
His stomach clenched.
"Where's my Ashley… my Ashley…"
He opened his eyes.
The human face within the creature's body was inches away now. The skin was torn around the cheeks, stretched tight and uneven.
But beneath the swelling and the color, he recognized her. The same woman whose blood he had drawn. The one who had waited by the door for her husband and daughter.
He stared, barely breathing. Her lips trembled, forming the same word again and again.
"My Ashley…"
Silas didn't know if she could still see him, or if what looked back at him was only what was left.
It pulled him closer. The flesh behind her shifted, peeling open as if the body itself were preparing to swallow him. The movement was slow, deliberate, each layer of tissue sliding apart with a wet sound.
"My Ashley… my Ashley…"
The voice trembled. Silas could see her eyes now, deep inside the mess of red and black. For a brief moment, the human in her showed through. Recognition flickered there, faint but there.
Her gaze locked onto his face. Then, as suddenly as she had caught him, the tendril released. He fell hard, hitting the floor and rolling onto his side.
Above him, the creature's body began to rise, the mass behind her folding and stretching as it slid upward through the hole in the ceiling.
The building trembled as dust almost got in his eyes. He watched until the last part of her vanished into the dark, leaving only the slow drip of fluid from the roof.
He whispered to himself, the name coming back without thought.
"Margaret."
That had been her name.
He pushed himself to his feet and started running. The halls blurred past him, broken doors, cracked tiles, dried blood. His body moved on instinct. Behind his eyes, her voice echoed again, looping the same words he couldn't forget.
My Ashley.
Outside, the cold air greeted his face. He stopped just long enough to breathe, the air obviously much fresher than hospitals', staring at the ruin that stretched beyond the hospital.
Margaret, The Weeping Mother.