The halls of Tucker-Hansen Hospital were empty save for silver-haired Dr. William V. Tucker who meandered about on his final set of rounds. His footsteps clicked down the length of the corridor as he made one last visual check on the patients scattered throughout the rural hospital’s sole ward, peeking his head in like a loving father seeing his children off to sleep. It did not take long. His once thriving practice was in decline. These days he was lucky if his hospital was ever at half capacity, luckier still if those he cared for could pay to stay.

The Depression was a cruel beast. William’s soul was haunted by its casualties. Most of his patients could never look him in the face as he administered to them, their heads bowed in shame borne of poverty. These were broken people with empty eyes and timorous voices. He pitied them and was disgusted by the feeling. He could not stomach thinking of them in such a way. These were good people. They did not belong beneath him. But try as he might, William could only cure their ills. Nothing he could do would ever mend their spirits.

The cases only got worse with time. Malnutrition, typhus and influenza, attempted suicides: all spawned from the economic devastation. The tide of problems kept building day by day into a greater and greater wave. Many days William thought he’d be swept away by it, yet he kept battling against the insurmountable. Making a difference was all that kept William going. He couldn’t change the world, but he could still save lives. That was enough. That was a reason, however slim, to cling to tomorrow. So he stuck around doing what he could for those who needed him most. At least here he was able to do something.

Though he was weary, William lingered for a while in the corridor letting his thoughts wander. He reminisced on his earliest days in Elkhart, prior to the wrinkles, baldness, and a bird’s nest of a beard that lent him his wizened appearance. Back then he was a pioneer doctor whose idealism had led him to the frontier. In spite of his being an outsider, the fledgling town had welcomed him with open arms. He loved their sincerity and they his selflessness. An intimate connection was formed over the years. He knew every citizen by name, delivered an entire generation into the world. They were his family.

Dr. Tucker took pride in watching the community he served flourish, culminating in the boom of the Twenties. The small town of Elkhart matured into a city due to that golden decade. Dirt roads were paved. Horses gave way to automobiles. Electricity lit windows and street corners. Possibilities seemed endless leading to an expansion so great that Elkhart’s numbers skyrocketed outgrowing William and his clinic. That was why he built this hospital and brought in Dr. Hansen: to better serve the people of Elkhart.

Things had changed a lot since then. The boom had finally gone bust. Nearly everyone had gone west with the dry winds taking hope with them. The decrepit town was dull, gray, and empty these days. But he stuck around. He’d watched over Elkhart for so long he thought it right that he peacefully help it finish out its days. Besides, he was too old to start over.

His energy flagging, William shuffled to the front desk to speak with Catherine Scott, the nurse on duty.

Catherine looked up as he approached. She was a bottle blonde waif whose thin, drawn face and pinched features made her appear permanently annoyed. Her sour demeanor did little to counter such assertions. “You look horrible, doc.”

“You finish doing inventory?” William asked, ignoring her comment.

“Sure thing, doc.” Catherine produced a clipboard. “It’s looking as bare as a bank vault back there.”

“I know,” William admitted wearily. “We have to make every bit count.”

“You can only stretch a bandage so far.” The nurse passed the clipboard over to William who grimly surveyed their declining stocks. “When’s the next delivery?”

William’s drooping eyes briefly flicked up at Catherine before he hid them behind the clipboard. “I don’t know. Guthrie wants payment up front these days. Credit won’t do anymore.”

Catherine frowned. “Clint Barger’s wife came in while you were in back.”

William perked up a bit. “Yeah? I thought I caught a glimpse of her. Is Clint doing well?”

“Yes, he is. She said he’s finally starting to walk around.” Catherine sighed. “She also wanted me to tell you that they wouldn’t be able to pay their bill on time.”

William nodded glumly and put the clipboard down. “What can you do?”

“You could make them pay,” Catherine sternly rebuked. “You really should stop letting people take advantage of you.”

“They’re not taking advantage of me,” William scoffed.

“I may be from around these parts, doc, but I’m no rube. I know you’re losing money. These are hard times. Being soft isn’t going to see you through them. Sometimes you just have to say no.”

“I can’t make that sort of decision. I’m supposed to help people.”

“Who’s gonna help you when the time comes?” Catherine asked. “I know how many hours you’ve been putting in. You don’t even go home anymore. I’ve also seen the financials. You’re a good man but the town’s dying, doc. You can’t stop that. You should get out before it takes you down with it.”

William rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m already making my own plans. Don’t know why I even stuck around this long.”

William turned away, eyes glistening. “You don’t understand.”

“I guess I don’t,” Catherine replied in a clipped tone.

William gave her a sidelong glance. “You might think this town has always been here, but when I first came in 1913, Elkhart wasn’t anything more than a train depot and tents dotting the plains. The wild frontier.” A nostalgic smile spread across his exhausted face as he resurrected old memories. “But in time we tamed it. I was a part of that. Helping to create something…there is a sense of accomplishment that comes with that. Realizing you left something behind for the next generation. That your life meant something. It’s one of the greatest feelings you’ll ever have. Elkhart is a symbol of my life. My roots are set here and I’ve invested too many years to cash out. I love this town. I helped birth and nurture it. As long as it needs me, I’ll be there for it.” He took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes. “I’m going to my office. If you need me-”

“I’ll know where to find you.” Catherine watched William shamble back down the hall, shoulders slumped and head downcast. As he disappeared from view, she pulled out a copy of Life magazine to help her through the long shift ahead. Just another night in the ward with the deadbeats that occupied it.

An hour later, she glanced up at the sound of the ward door opening and saw Mike Reynolds enter appearing as disheveled as always. Though it was past visiting hours, there was an understanding between the two. Mike was one of the hospital’s few paying clients and that counted for a lot these days. There was also the tragedy involving his daughter. Sad state of affairs that and she sympathized with him. Most nights he’d just sit in a chair by his daughter’s bed watching her until he fell asleep. Even to her jaded soul it was a heart wrenching sight. Catherine was about to return to her magazine when she noticed someone accompanied Mike. The stranger was a pale figure clad in a red flannel jacket with the collar popped up and a fedora pulled low, dark spectacles concealing his eyes. There was something unnerving about the man. She uncomfortably shifted in her chair and looked down at her magazine. The pair passed her desk without a word and continued down the hall.

***

The two men quietly entered Stephanie’s room. Mike closed and locked the door as Chris removed his hat and glasses to look around. It was a bleak space, sepulchral. There was no window to the outside world. Only four stark, sterile, colorless walls that seemed to press in if one focused on them for too long. A single dangling bulb buzzed overhead casting a wan light that encouraged shadows in the corners. At the center of the room was a coffin-like iron lung with Stephanie’s head poking out the one end. Mike walked over to her and stroked her brittle, dirty blonde hair. “Daddy’s here,” he cooed.

“How long has she been like this?” Chris asked.

“Over a month now.” Mike snorted bitterly, tapping on the metal hood of the iron lung. “As you can see I spared no expense. Medical marvel they say. Doctor thought this machine would improve her condition. It’s the only thing keeping her alive now.” The two listened to the measured gasping of the machine. Chris flinched at the unnatural, industrial wheezing. Mike lovingly admired his daughter’s anemic face. “She’s my sleeping beauty dreaming sweet dreams.” He struggled to smile finally achieving a lopsided, labored grin. “Don’t you think she’s pretty? She looks like her mother.”

“Where is your wife?”

“Gone,” Mike bluntly admitted. “She couldn’t handle this. As if it’s any easier for me. When we needed her most…shows what love is worth.”

Chris approached the machine. “I’m going to need you to back away.”

Mike gave Stephanie a soft kiss on the forehead then retreated. Donner stood next to the iron lung and gazed down at the little girl’s waxen face. The vitality of her youth had been eaten away by the disease. She was an emaciated, pathetic creature with dark circles surrounding her sunken eyes and hollow cheeks that lent her a starving, aged countenance.

Chris removed the glove from his right hand and gingerly placed his nailless fingers upon her forehead. She was frighteningly cold. Relaxing his mind, the bulb above briefly flickered as his palm and fingers started to tingle. Faint echoes filled his ears of laughter from former memories, the flash of better times briefly replacing the room. Her corporeal form gradually evanesced becoming a translucent shell through which he glimpsed the stygian sickness polluting her. The void had invaded her flesh and was smothering the feeble spark that glimmered like a white dwarf within her head.

The glowing filament in the bulb above dimmed, yet darkness did not overtake the room. Chris’ bare face and hand shone luminously washing both he and Stephanie in resplendent ethereal effulgence. A chill passed through the room forcing a shivering Mike to hug himself for warmth as he backed further into a corner. Frost gradually collected on the top of the iron lung.

Chris spiritually reached into Stephanie and connected to that glistening pearl in her crown injecting the energy he absorbed from the room into its core causing it to flare. A searing white flame gushed through the shell of her form along venous canals resembling ley lines until they overflowed and flooded her husk burning away the sickness. Chris’ pupils blazed as he funneled further energy into the little girl’s body. The iron lung chugged and panted loudly. Creases and dents dimpled its surface coupled with a pinging that soon evolved into an internal banging. Chris’ aura continued to expand until its fierceness filled the entire room, a blinding gleam that subsumed everything. The light was so bright Mike had to shield his eyes, finally turning away from the piercing glare. Reynolds could feel a charge in the air, his hair standing on end and skin pimpling as he spat out white clouds in the frigid room. The light’s sheen grew stronger and more brilliant, the power so palpable Mike was afraid an explosion would rock the room as the charge pressed him against the wall. He tensed as the climax came nearly screaming when he felt that final inward pulse.

And then blackness fell and all was still. The bulb above flickered and buzzed back to life. Heat returned. Chris withdrew his hand from Stephanie’s forehead. Mike stared at the iron lung in shock. The hood was torn off and gently rocking back and forth on the floor. There lying bare on a bier of steel was his daughter.

Mike looked from Stephanie to Chris. “Did it work?”

“Daddy?”

Mike’s head jerked at the sound of his daughter’s voice. “Stephanie?”

His daughter’s plump face had regained color, the hair of her head now golden silk. She squinted and rubbed at her eyes. “Daddy. I want my daddy.”

Mike pushed past Chris. “Daddy’s here.” He smiled at her, his joyful tears dripping onto her cheeks. “Daddy’s here.”

Chris felt a surge of mirth at the sight of father and daughter reunited. Rather than interrupt their precious moment, he put his hat and glasses back on and stealthily exited the room.

***

“What has gotten into you?” William slurred half asleep as Catherine dragged him by the arm down the hall to Stephanie Reynolds’ room. The nurse’s grip was so tight her nails were cutting into his forearm.

“Something strange is going on in that room.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mike went in there with some man. Next thing I know, the lights are flashing throughout the ward.”

“Probably a power failure. Wouldn’t be the first. Things look good now. I’ll call the utility in the morning.” William went to return to his office only for Nurse Scott to grab him by the collar and tug him back.

“I’m telling you-” Catherine clammed up when Chris emerged from Stephanie’s room.

William gave Donner’s strange appearance a quizzical stare. “Yes, I can see your concern.”

“What were you doing in there?” Catherine demanded.

Donner went to answer but paused when his right hand started to subtly tremble. He’d tenuously felt it when he first entered the hospital but now, after the sweet flash of merriment and rejoicing by Stephanie and her father, the acrimonious pall that permeated the place washed over him. Pain. Chris sensed pain flowing through the building. Physical. Spiritual. Despair. There was much despair. It was so thick he couldn’t breathe. He attempted to rebel against the sensations, endeavoring to shut his mind but it was too late. A pounding filled his head as the ward darkened. The prayers of the dying and the swallowed cries of the suffering reverberated through the concrete. The cacophony of voices continued to expand, the dour chorus joined from beyond the walls of the hospital by the city surrounding it. The babbling pressure intensified and began to overtake and drown him, building into a thudding that dizzied his senses. Donner could sense his will crumbling against the onslaught, his fragile sanity fissuring. “Can you feel that?” he stammered.

William was alarmed by the agonized expression on Chris’ face, rushing to his side as Chris collapsed to the floor. “Are you alright?”

Donner suffered a violent seizure, his body writhing and convulsing. In brief flashes of consciousness Chris glimpsed the patients’ souls through the lucent walls, once great fiery lights now weak and languid. Every one of them screeched at him, their anguish invading his every pore. He wept sorrowfully as he shook, struggling against the sensations. In saving Stephanie, Chris realized he must have inadvertently opened himself up telepathically. The same thing had happened after he healed Chuck, but whereas he was able to retreat to his isolated farm before now he was encircled by hundreds. Chris heard them. Felt them. Their souls pressed in on him. He couldn’t control what was flooding into him scorching his mind. In vain he sought to erect a wall between him and them; to harden his heart against their suffering. He thrashed ever more violently with the effort.

Catherine started forward. “No, don’t touch him!” William shouted. “He’s suffering a Gran Mal. Get me Luminal. Hurry.” Catherine disappeared down the hall. William took a knee and removed Chris’ glasses to prevent him from breaking them and further injuring himself only to recoil at the sight of Donner’s eyes. A cracking sound made the doctor pivot. Hairline fractures began to spider web all along the walls. Quakes followed. William fell on his side as the floor warped and buckled in a series of undulating waves.

Catherine sprinted down the hall with a syringe and vial. “What’s happening?” she shrieked.

“Give me the Luminal.” Catherine was transfixed by the telekinetic carnage. William stood unsteadily and grabbed the Luminal and syringe from the nurse. He jabbed the needle into the vial and filled the tube. A wave of energy caught him with a glancing blow knocking the vial from his hand and nearly sending him back to the floor. Luckily the syringe was not damaged. He tested the needle with a squirt and returned to Chris. “Help me get his coat off.” Catherine slowly backed down the hall. “Damnit, Catherine, help me!” The nurse turned and bolted rather than aid the doctor, choosing instead to get the hell out before the foundations gave.

Mike exited into the hall. “Stay there,” he told Stephanie when she went to follow. He stumbled down the corridor toward Chris and William. “What happened?”

William shook his head. “I don’t know. He started to seizure and then-”

One of the fractures in the wall bit deep splitting it. The two slabs ground together gratingly, the top piece sliding an inch before stopping.

Mike turned to William. “This whole place is going to come down on our heads.”

“Help me get his jacket off.”

“What the hell for?”

William held up the syringe. “I’ve got a sedative in here. If I’m right, I put him out and this stops.”

Another crack reverberated through the hall. “And if you’re wrong?”

“Then we better run for it.”

The two men wrestled Chris’s jacket off. Mike tossed it aside while William rolled up Chris’ sleeve. The doctor injected Donner with the Luminal, whispering a prayer with the pressing of the plunger.

Chris felt it enter his veins. Suddenly he was falling away from the waking world. Everything became distant. The voices. The pain. The light. He collapsed fully into his subconscious. Donner’s seizures soon ceased and with them the quakes threatening the hospital.

William swiped his sweaty brow in relief. “Jesus Christ. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Daddy. Is everything all right?”

Surprised by Stephanie’s voice, William looked down the hall to see the girl’s head peeking out of her room. He turned to Mike. “How…?”

Mike looked down at Chris, now unconscious on the floor.

Next Chapter: Chapter 12