Blood Day by J.L. Murray

some of them were hallucinations. A few though, she wasn't so sure about. A man's face floated through her memories, disappearing and reappearing. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes. And he was filled with something dark as well, Sia was sure of that. He had a nice-looking face, if a little ordinary. Sia remembered him taking her hand. She remembered the thrill of it.
    The man's memory flitted away as the drugs started to work. She slept and dreamed she was on a stage, playing the most beautiful music.

    It was two days before Sia met the woman Evelyn Hauser had spoken of. After breakfast, a giant of a guard came in with Hauser, his belly poking out like a pregnant woman. A replacement for Dez Paine, Sia guessed. Hauser strapped her to the bed while the man held her down. He didn't have to, though. Sia didn't fight.
    “Are they going to kill me today?” she asked.
    “Don't be stupid,” said Hauser. “You have a meeting.”
    “I'd rather they killed me.”
    “Careful what you wish for,” said the giant, his rancid breath making Sia turn her face away.
    “Quiet, you,” said Hauser. “You're not here to talk.”
    The giant wheeled the bed out of the room. Sia stared at the ceiling, watching each fluorescent light as it raced by. If she squinted she could make them look like one long light.  
    “Don't be nervous, dear,” said Evelyn Hauser, her heels clicking smartly as she walked beside Sia's bed. “I'm quite sure she isn't going to hurt you.” She met Sia's eyes and looked away, straightening her sweater.  
    “You're afraid,” said Sia.
    “Of course I'm not.”
    “Am I going to die?”
    “No,” said the nurse.
    “Pity,” said Sia.  
    “Before this is all over,” said Hauser, “you are going to understand that there are far worse things than dying.”
    “I didn't say that dying was bad,” said Sia. “I'd rather die than live like this.”
    “Like what?”
    Sia looked up and watched the lights again. “Without color. Without fire. Without anything. It's just one long hallway lit by fluorescent lights. That's all we have anymore. This is it, Evelyn. Look around.”
    “Not everyone is quarantined in a hospital room,” said Hauser, not even bothering to correct Sia for using her first name.
    “Are you sure?” said Sia. “From what I've seen, everyone's trapped in their own little room.”
    Evelyn Hauser stopped talking to her. The giant wove the bed down halls, through doors, past rooms. The ward was immense in size. Sia hadn't realized. Every once in a while she would see a door left open and see an empty room. No patients in hospital gowns, just empty rooms. Nurses and orderlies buzzed around the halls, though, nodding at Evelyn Hauser as they passed her.  
    The giant swung the bed around a corner and things started to change. The lights were no longer fluorescent, but soft and muted. The walls wore wallpaper instead of garish paint. And the smell of iodine evaporated into something flowery and understated. Sia craned her neck up to look where they were headed. She could see a figure a ways down the hall. It didn't look right; it was tall and bent at the spine, with freakishly long arms and a head that was hunched down into rounded shoulders.
    “No,” said Sia softly.
    “Calm yourself,” said Evelyn Hauser under her breath.
    “No,” said Sia, louder this time. She pulled against her leather restraints, making the chains clink against the railings on the sides of the bed.  
    “Be quiet,” Hauser hissed.
    “No, no, no, no!” Sia yelled. She arched her back and tried to squeeze her hands out of the restraints. “Take me back, I don't want to go. Take me back. ”
    “They're not going to hurt you, stupid girl,” said Hauser. She finally turned her head to look at Sia. There was fear in her eyes. “You must be still.”
    Sia looked back to the figure, heart beating in her ears. She could now see the muted lights gleaming off of a completely hairless head, a face that was smooth and