Born a Monster

479 Golden Hou coughed blood in my doctor’s face; not Doctor Murgyn, some other doctor, dark red with a stooped posture. He laughed behind his surgical mask. “Well, there’s your problem. Your little soldier here is sick.”

"I know he’s sick.” Doctor Murgyn said. “But these symptoms are beyond my ability to diagnose. My System tells me it’s...”

"Blood Rot, Yellow Fever and Red Flu. Little soldier has won a lottery of blood diseases. I didn’t even think Yellow Fever could survive in environments like this.” the elder said. “I’m going to need to keep him here for a few days, doctor.”

"I can make the medicines.” he said, reaching forward to take my leash.

There was a clicking noise, and the leather collar fell off my throat. “No, doctor. This is the sort of thing that must be handled with alacrity, precision, and most of all, experience.”

"I have those qualities.” Doctor Murgyn said.

"Well,” the elder said, “the fact that your little patient here has no fingernails and three deadly diseases says otherwise.”

"How DARE you! Whatever you think of me...”

"I know your patron, doctor. If you want to play that card, I’m willing to have that chat with her.”

.....

"I want him back when he’s healthy.”

"Doctor, let’s worry about saving lives now, and let who owns whom wait until after that, shall we?”

There was the sound like bone being dragged against bone. “I want him back on the day he’s healthy. Until then, of course I yield to your greater experience, doctor.”

"Yup. So, if you want to assist me in compounding the medicine...”

"I am sorry, doctor, but I do have patients of my own to tend to.”

"Well, I cannot put into words how that makes me feel. Doctor Murgyn.”

"Doctor Vorhamson.”

They did their polite chatter, and parted ways.

"If you promise not to cough on her, I think Doctor Vordhamsdottor would be VERY interested in meeting you.”

I huffed, and gasped, and tried not to shiver too much. I didn’t try anything complicated, like sitting up or standing. Walking, as I’d discovered on the way over, was no longer an option. “I... can’t... promise.” I said.

"He’s gone, my daughter.” he called. “It is as safe to appear as any time.”

Then to me, he said, “Nasty stuff you’re carrying around in your blood. Just nasty. And the ratings! If I didn’t know better, I’d say... whoa.”

He reached out, but the floor was faster, slapping me in my right side. A protracted fart escaped me, smelling of blood gone sour and rotted meat.

Doctor Vordhamson coughed, but wasted no time pulling out a flash and pouring a dollop of alcohol into his hand, and then wiping that carefully into his mask. “Oh! Oh, that is positively vile. Almost as though someone WANTED you to die of an array of bizarre diseases. Any thoughts?”

"Think... not strong suit... right now.” I gasped out.

"No, no, I imagine not, with the statistic penalties being cumulative and all.”

"What cumulative penalties?” asked a young-ish woman. She was built slender; not whip-like slender, but more like... something skinny. Slim, but with corded muscle underneath. “Oh, Loki laughs at lightning.” she said. “This one needs to go onto a pyre, forthwith.”

Vordhamson sighed. “Murgyn wants him dead so badly, and you’re not curious why?”

"Not like he’s a person.” she said, “And literally every exhale is an exercise in risk.”

"My defenses are ratings five through seven. Yours?”

"Only four versus Yellow Fever.” she said. “But his ratings... no, that can’t be right.”

"Can’t it?” he asked. “Tell me, daughter. Why is the siege going on so long, when their wall is so very low?”

"Huh. You mean to lob his corpse over the wall with a catapult? They don’t need either of us for that.”

"Indeed, they do not. Help me get him to the yellow tent.”

"We just sanitized the yellow tent.” she said. I don’t know how; my vision was fuzzy, my hearing was muffled, my sense of smell was... I had been smelling limes and mint all day. But SOMEHOW, I know that she rolled her eyes at this time.

I know because I can say it. I could barely keep breath in my lungs, and wasn’t even paying that much attention to her. But I know she rolled her eyes.

"Good.” he said, “Then it should still be an excellent place to make certain this young lad doesn’t pick up a fourth illness.”

"I need... bedpan.” I said.

Vordhamsdottor hefted me to her shoulder, with all the concern one might show a bag of turnips. “The shit pit is this way.”

With Blood Rot causing constipation, and Yellow Fever causing diarrhea, one might be curious. It felt like tiny marbles with rough surface, floating in a stew made of all the liquids that are better off remaining inside me, then mixed with the sewer near a butcher’s.

I may have passed out; I don’t clearly recall. My next clear memory was of the two of them scrubbing me down with rags tinctured with something that smelled of sage and garlic and... maybe vanilla?

"What?” I asked, trying to roll.

One of the Vordham clan gripped my hip with a hand like a vice.

"Don’t try to move.” the owner said. “We’re bathing you in an antiseptic.”

"Not that it isn’t by far too late for that.” Vordhamsdottor said.

You know what? I’m just going to call them Father, Daughter, Son, Adopted-Son, and Wife. My vision wasn’t reliable, but eventually I realized that Doctors Father, Son and Daughter were, in fact, applying some kind of goop that sank deep into my skin.

"Who?” I asked.

"Why does it matter?” Adopted-Son asked.

I held up my left hand, let him see the scabs where once I had fingernails.

"Fine. I’m the adopted son.” he said.

"I didn’t adopt you.” Daughter mumbled.

"Doctor Vordhamsdotter didn’t adopt me.” he said. “She also has problems accepting me as a fellow doctor.”

"Your technique and medical lore need work.” she said.

"Bedside manner is where I think you could improve, doctor.” he said.

"Doesn’t matter. Not in fatal cases like this.”

"Fatal?” I asked.

"Don’t listen to her.” he said. “You’ll be able to meet and greet all the people you’ve infected on your walk over here before you’re at risk of dying. In the meantime... compounded medicine?”

"Compounded medicine.” she agreed. “His health is.... That’s not possible.”

Adopted-Son smacked his lips. “Those are some interesting numbers.”

Daughter (yes, Doctor Vordhamsdottor) reached down and grabbed my jaw, used it to angle my head. “Tell me how you have rating six health, boy.”

"Purchased... system.” I said.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I think we’ll need to save him, if you want a conversation with him.”

"No, I think Dad’s right.” she said. She released my jaw just before I started coughing again. “This case isn’t natural.”

"Do you think he’s our patient zero?”

She shook her head. “Going to be a lot of casualties, if he’s not.”

I should perhaps explain again. A patient zero is the first member of a local populace to catch a disease. I’d done a little bit of tampering with local water and toiletry areas, trying to confuse that issue. Wasted time, perhaps, if anyone just came out and asked me.

"We came with enough doctors.” Adopted-Son said. “We can deal with things like this.”

"WE can deal with things like this.” she said. “If they get all over the camp, we don’t have the supplies.”

"Still, if there were something like this combination of diseases running loose, we’d have received...”

"New transfers.” a woman said, bustling inside with four sick people.

[Blood Rot]

[Blood Rot]

[Yellow Fever]

[Blood Rot, Red Flu]

I smiled. “I’m not alone.”

"You’re about to be.” Daughter told me. “I hate you.” she said to Adopted-Son.

"I hate me some days, too. Usually days when I’m right.” he said. And to Mother, “These are from Doctor Murgyn?”

"These are walk-ins from our own units. Those two are Badger Fangs, Wolf Howl, and a Fighting Makura.”

"Loki’s Red Rump!” Daughter said. “There’s no way Murgyn walked this boy through all those camps.”

"We’d have eaten that one alive.” Wolf Howl said. “Looks like he’s got some good meat on him.”

"You don’t want this one.” Adopted-Son said. “He’s got all of the diseases you four have between you. Pick a cot, put your belongings into the footlocker by it, and take off your armor and clothes. Step one is an antiseptic scrubbing.”

.....

"If this is just you trying to get a look at my breasts,” Fighting Makura said, “I’ll kill you with your own rib bone.”

"It’s not.” Mother said. “And I’d be showing off breasts like yours. At least until I’d snagged a husband.”

"Snag my farm first.” Makura said. “Then snag the man to work it.” She coughed into her hand, flicked the blood onto the floor.

They were just the first of many tent-mates I would have over the next few days.