Page 4 of Dorchad

When she reached the first floor landing Rebecca encountered two lab techs who smelled suspiciously like burnt vanilla cupcakes. Judging by the faint haze in the air both of them had been breaking a hard and fast hospital rule about no vaping on the premises, which was sometimes easier to get away with than smoking tobacco.

“Someone has been voluntarily inhaling heavy metals, formaldehyde and diethylene glycol,” she said as she approached them. “It usually takes two to three years to get a lung transplant after you destroy yours, you know, assuming you don’t die of a heart attack first.”

The first girl hung her head and shifted on her feet, but her brunette companion just laughed.

“I’ll probably get strangled by my psycho ex first, Dr. Ponytails,” she told her, defiantly taking one more hit off her vape pen before she left, a waft of burnt cupcake-scented mist trailing behind her.

“Sorry, Dr. McIan,” the other tech said. “She’s in a custody battle, and just had to get a restraining order to keep her husband from stalking her and their kid.”

Rebecca nodded, and followed her out into the ER lobby. As the tech hurried after her friend, she stepped over a wad of blue fabric sitting just in front of the elevators. It looked as if someone had dropped a scrub top on the floor, which someone might step on and slip as they came out of the lift. She walked over and bent to pick it up, but snatched her hand back when the dark fabric slithered around her fingers as if it were alive.

“Ugh.” She stepped back, shuddering. “What is that?”

’Tis the cluet, my child, a strange voice said behind her eyes.

An instant awareness of what the cluet was blazed across her thoughts, pouring knowledge and images into her mind so fast her head began to ache. A treasure beyond price, the cloth could grant any wish. Even more fantastic, it could change its shape and appearance, move through time and across vast distances to find what it needed to fulfill a wish. The rest blurred into a confusing vision of what seemed like a high fantasy movie, complete with flashes of an evil queen and her monster soldiers and a clan of ancient Scottish highlanders who looked like a medieval mob that lived in the fourteenth century.

“Oh.” Rebecca took a prudent step from the scrub top. “I, ah, have everything I could ever wish for here, thank you.” Was she apologizing to a magical, sentient fabric?

No’ for long, lass. You’re everything wanted by another in that long ago time. I cannae grant a mortal a wish, but come with me, and you shall live.

“Why would I die?” she asked, taking another step back.

A moment later glass shattered behind her, and Rebecca turned around to see a young man pointing a gun at the wide-eyed brunette lab tech, who was backing away from him toward the elevators. Then everything seemed to slow down as the tech backed up and ran around Billy and Georgia Baker as they came off the elevator, shoving the boy’s chair toward the shooter before diving inside and closing the doors.

Someone’s trembling voice announced on the PA system “Code silver, ER. Code silver, ER.”

Code silver meant armed attacker. Rebecca ignored the screams and fleeing people as she ran for her patient.

“Get out of my way, lady,” the shooter screamed at Georgia, who stepped in front of her son to shield him. He stopped in his tracks when Rebecca put herself between him and the terrified woman, and leveled his gun at her face. “I’m going to shoot that bitch who took my kid from me. You think I won’t kill you, too?”

“That won’t solve anything,” Rebecca told him. “Put down the gun.”

All around her the hospital suddenly went dark, as if day had become night. The shooter blurred and then doubled as reality seemed to split into two.

Look upon your fate if you dinnae fulfill the wish, Rebecca McIan.

On the left the scene shifted, showing the shooter pulling the trigger. A wet red stain bloomed on Rebecca’s chest as Georgia caught her from behind and screamed. The shooter then seemed to go crazy, shooting wildly before more shots came from behind him. He stiffened and then collapsed face-down on the floor. A patrol cop with his weapon drawn then came inside and kicked the shooter’s weapon away from him.

“No, please,” Rebecca heard herself whisper to Georgia, who lay bleeding on the floor beside her.

“Billy.” The other woman glanced at her son, who sat huddled and unmoving in his chair. “Oh, no.”

If you come with me, the lad shallnae murder the lady and her son. Only you must go willing.

Rebecca’s gaze shifted to the second scene, where she saw herself pick up the scrub top, which instantly grew to an enormous size and wrapped around her. A few moments after she and her bizarre cocoon vanished, the glass broke, and the shooter came in and pointed his weapon at Georgia.

“Get out of my way, lady,” the young man shouted as she stepped in front of her son’s wheelchair. “I’m going to shoot that bitch who took my kid from me. You think I won’t kill you, too?”

“I know you will,” Georgia said, her expression and her voice eerily serene. “But please, don’t shoot us. I know you’re not like her. You don’t want to hurt a child.”

The shooter’s gaze shifted to Billy, and he took a step back. “Sure, yeah, go.”

A second after Georgia pushed her son out of the way a shot rang out and the young man collapsed as the patrol cop advanced on him. Then both scenes went dark, and Rebecca was standing in the unlit, empty hospital again.

“Please, take me away from here.” She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t let anyone die.”

The killer’s fate, ’tis sealed. To save the mother and her lad, and your own life, you must pick up the cluet and agree to fulfill the wish of another.