Children of the Plague

Chapter Two: The Princess Room

She heard his voice.

"Shh. Be still, Lanni. You're doing great."

Soothing hands cradled her head, softening the pain. She pried her stubborn eyes open and saw Alex's emaciated face hovered over hers. He looked so much older. Fire razed everything inside her skull, and as much as she wanted to care about Alex, her own suffering dominated her attention.

Other voices droned in quiet conversation, near, but out of sight. Sensei Rumiko and her husband John, she thought. Dr. Harris was with them, too. Had they all come just for her?

The biting reek of the monster's breath still burned her nostrils, a reminder of what caused her pain. The memory triggered a warning bell.

The monster! Danger! Had it escaped? Did Alex kill it? What if it was still in the house?

Her body barely responded to her mental distress. She wanted to shout but had to settle for a weak frown. The tickle of alien energy coursed through every cell of her body, electric blood, ready to jolt her flesh into action. Instead of obeying her, it responded to Alex's touch, tingling the most around her wounds.

Another energy, distinct from, and somehow at odds with the first, coiled deep inside her like compressed light, held back, but eager to shine. Unaware that she had been suppressing it, the strain of holding it in quickly became too much. It expanded until she was encased by it, like an invisible exoskeleton.

A pained wince ruined Alex's smile. His hands jumped back from her head, but he quickly smiled again. Lanni recognized his fake smile. It was sweet of him to make an effort.

"What did you just do?" he asked. His tone was soft, but insistent.

Do? He wasn't making sense. She hadn't done anything. She expressed her confusion with a barely perceptible shake of her head.

He touched the sides of her face again. He flinched but held his hands on her skin for two more seconds before jerking them away. Anger, or perhaps frustration darkened his face, but the plastic smile bounced right back.

She had seen this expression countless times, though seldom directed at her. He typically reserved his "patiently annoyed" look for people who interrupted a muse-inspired frenzy of drawing or painting.

"I'm trying my best, Lanni," Alex said. "You're doing really well, but I'm not done yet. You have to stop this... whatever it is, for just another minute. Can you do that?"

"I'm not doing anything," is what she intended to say. The strangled, wordless sounds that gurgled up from her throat were more like a comedian's portrayal of a drunk than actual speech. Frustrated and exhausted from the effort, she let her head loll to one side.

A glass figurine toppled from the tall chest of drawers behind Alex, as the little football-shaped brain-monster moved into view. Lanni couldn't say a word to warn him. Her fingers barely lifted when she tried to point.

Alex hadn't noticed. He touched the sides of her head again and closed his eyes.

"Lanni," he groaned. "Please stop. I really can't take it anymore." Each phrase struggled out through clenched teeth. He sat beside her on a huge bed, staring at his hands. The room around them was entirely unfamiliar.

The nasty odor of rot and burning plastic, along with her spinning head, made her stomach lurch. Were his hands smoking?

"I'm going to get you out of here, Lanni. I'll take you somewhere safe."

She couldn't answer, and even worse, she no longer cared to try. The pain in her splitting skull spiked when he let go of her head. She gave in and let the pain drag her into unconsciousness.