The Grip of the Shadow Gods

Tyler Young kissed his girlfriend Kylie before parting ways; the goodbye didn’t mean much, since her place was only down the street from the coffee shop that he worked at and he’d be seeing her on his break.

Melissa, a coworker, was the first to comment on Tyler’s waning complexion: “You look like death,” as she put it.

All the customers chose to be served by someone other than Tyler, fearing they might catch whatever he had.

Tyler’s boss sent him home sick, much to the indignation of Tyler, who claimed to be feeling fine.

On his way to Kylie’s place, his nose started to bleed. Tyler pinched both nostrils and didn’t think much of it.

He was crossing the street when a searing pain shot up his legs, making Tyler trip and fall in the middle of the road.

Fortunately, the drivers of the nearest vehicles to Tyler’s prone body managed to stop in time, sparing him from being crushed.

The last thing Tyler saw before losing consciousness was Kylie running toward him as a crowd began to gather.

Tyler awoke in a sterile white room. He lay in a white bed and wore a blue hospital gown. There were also many tubes connected to his arms, one in his nose, and another in his mouth–this tube caused Tyler the most discomfort as it violated the depths of his esophagus.

Tyler gagged on the tube for a moment before pulling it free from his body. With the intrusive tube no longer a distraction, Tyler noticed the contraption on his head. His hands surged up toward it.

“Please don’t remove any more of the medical equipment,” said an authoritative voice.

Tyler searched the room, finding no one.

“Over here.”

A light then blasted on, revealing the true purpose of the mirror on the adjacent wall: it was a one-way mirror for an observation room. In the observation room stood a towering figure in a lab coat.

“What’s going on, where am I?” asked Tyler.

“I understand that you must have many questions, but I have to know that you will comply with my initial request.”

“Fine; I won’t touch anything else. Now, tell me what the hell is going on!”

A pause followed. The mystery man then turned on the intercom again.

“There is no delicate way of putting this, Mr. Young. It would seem that you are patient zero of an unknown pathogen. I’m sorry to say that’s all we know for now; however, you can rest assured knowing that we have a team of the best and brightest working relentlessly to find out what this is and how we can cure you.”

Tyler was inundated by a jumble of thoughts and emotions. One thought surfaced above the tempest within:

“Kylie,” said Tyler.

“I didn’t catch that,” said the mystery man.

“Kylie–she’s my girlfriend. Would it be possible for me to see her?”

“I don’t think you’re understanding your situation.”

“I’m not asking to be in the same room as her; just a phone call will do.”

Another pause followed; this one more protracted than the first.

“Get some rest, Mr. Young.”

The light was switched off in the observation room, returning the window to its functionality as a mirror.

“Wait!” cried Tyler.

Tyler would call out some more, awaiting a response from the observation room that, from Tyler’s perspective, had become a source of prodigious anxiety. His mind’s eye pictured the man on the other side of the mirror, continuing to observe him.

His anxieties were only made worse upon realizing that his inquiry into his current location went unanswered.

A wave of pain interrupted Tyler’s histrionic train of thought; the pain felt as though boiling water had been doused over the bottom half of his body.

A scream peeled out from Tyler’s lungs. Following the scream, a deep buzzing noise could be heard, after which the hissing of a tranquilizing gas filled the silence and the room.

Tyler felt the pain begin to dissipate and his head become weightless, yet it sunk into the pillow.

As his eyelids shut, Tyler caught a glimpse of the door opening–in stepped a figure clad in a hazmat suit.