Kalon 2000 try out

[22tabby]

[22tabby]

It was just a candle. His family had given it to him earlier that day, it was his favorite scent. Toasted marshmallow scent wafted out of his room. Memoir had been careful to make sure no one near her patients room would be sensitive to smells.
It wasn’t supposed to do anything more than let him sleep peacefully tonight. Now he would be sleeping forever. Would he even realize what was happening? Dementia was a very hard disorder. She just wanted him to feel like he was home for a night.
I have to save them all. She dashed in and out of rooms, picking up frail patients over her shoulder, wheeling out other patients, yelling over the intercom for her colleagues to evacuate. She ran back in continuously, even against the firefighters requests.
This is my fault. I thought the smell was just from the “toasted” part of toasted marshmallow. Her patient had knocked over the candle that Memoir left on his bedside stand. She should have known better than to leave it there.
Since when is this hospital so big? Her eyes were burning. With every time she ran back into the hospital, her breathing became more labored. It almost felt like asthma, or at least how it was described. Her fur was singed.
Am I in West Wing B, or West Wing C? I can’t see anything anymore. She had began to just listen for the sounds of patients calling for help, and following their voices down the halls. She would run further and further in, completely in the smoky darkness. Eventually no one was calling out for her. She imagined the firefighters must have gotten them all. But… how far did she run?
If they found the others, they’ll find me, right? She sat down in a corner, more likely someone could see her from two angles. Lungs burning, she coughed instead of calling for help. Eventually she found herself falling into a warm sleep.

[22tabby]

Five minutes. She should be out soon.

Seven minutes. Did she have to find a different route?

Ten minutes. Something is wrong.

Twelve minutes. Rynwick could no longer contain himself. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that something was wrong. She was stuck inside the hospital. Rynwick was frenzied, every hair on his body on end.

“You have to go back in.” He pleaded with the first responders, “You can’t leave her there. Not her.”

The firemen couldn’t find it within themselves to respond. Rynwick, hardly thinking, grabbed one by the upper arm. “You can’t let her die in there – not after she’s helped so many other people escape…” His eyes burned with an intensity no one had seen before. His piercing gaze fixated on the fireman, clawed hand still desperately clutching the man’s arm. “Not here. Not her. Please.”

The man refused to meet Rynwick’s eyes. Pulling his arm away and turning his back to Rynwick he mumbled, “I’m sorry… it’s too dangerous.”

“LIKE HELL IT IS.” Rynwick snarled, storming towards the barriers keeping passerby away from the scene.

He whipped around to face the first responders once more. “If none of you cowards will find her, I’ll do it my damn self” he hissed.

Rynwick jumped over the barrier and ran through the doors before the men on scene could respond. The roar of the fire and the blood pounding in his ears drowned out the world around him. He was alone now. If he screwed this up, no one would come looking for him. He was as good as dead. No time for that now. Death sentence or otherwise. I couldn’t live with myself if I sat idly while the one damn good thing in this world was left to burn.

Rynwick lurched forward, forcing down the cacophonous racquet of his racing thoughts. Focus. Memoir is a smart girl. She would have a strategy. There’s no way she hasn’t cleared the upper floors by now. She’d be on the last patient floor… she would have taken the most critical patients first. That leaves… second floor. West wings. Farthest from the stairway.

Rynwick dropped to the ground, crawling through the corridors, desperately trying to navigate through the smoke. The stairwell. Where is the damn stairwell? The fire had started on an upper floor, and hadn’t yet reached the first. What had, however, was the crumbling foundations of the building. Smoldering tiles, linens, and plastic wrappings flitted down from the upper floors, lazily adrift of the updrafts. A stark contrast to the world ending inferno surrounding Rynwick.

The adrenaline pounding noisily in his head did little to quell the searing pain of the ablaze debris clinging to his fur. Every breath hitched on the smoke in his lungs and the panic rising in his chest. Come. on. Please. I have to be close. I can’t lose her.

The gut wrenching minutes felt like eons as Rynwick fumbled blindly across the floors he had come to know so well. Then he hit it. The groove of the stairs on his scorched paw pads, in that moment, were salvation of their own. Forcefully swallowing the amalgamous mass of dread, horror, and panic, Rynwick pressed on.

One stair. Two. On his hands and knees, Rynwick continued. The flames became more intense, the vile smell of burning plastic and god knows what sunk into his skin. The second floor was worse, when he finally made it up. His paw pads were raw. He didn’t care.

West Wing. Memoir. She has to be there. In the furthest room? The closest? How do I get us out? Is she still alive? Each step was excruciating. Each breath moreso. The smoke on this floor was the worst. Rynwick’s eyes stung, not that seeing would have helped him navigate. He wiped away the tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

There isn’t time to dwell. Rynwick poured everything into his steps. Right. Left. Hand. Knee. The hallway on the left. First room on the right. He worked his way back slowly. The last room on the unit. Why was the door closed? It didn’t matter. She had to be there. She WAS there.

Rynwick dragged himself down the hallway. One. More. Step. Up. Get up. Come on. The handle. Please. Please get up. I have to make it to the door. To her. Rynwick could only plead with himself. The handle glinted. Daring him. He willed himself to move. Up. Up farther. He could hardly grasp the handle. The world around him was hazy. Spinning. And yet… he was through.

She was there. If there was a God, Rynwick was thanking him. She wasn’t conscious, but there. Rynwick gasped for air, pushing himself further towards her. His heart swelled, seeing her had given him just enough clarity to find them a way out. Rynwick knew they couldn’t go back through the floors. The window was their only option. Rynwick rose to his knees, scanning the room for anything that hadn’t been burnt. Nothing. It’s only the second floor. That or we burn together. Staggering towards the window, he mustered the last of his strength to pull Memoir alongside him. The glass on the window had burst in the heat, they would have to go through. Rynwick cradled Memoir in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest before shifting his weight.

Over the windowsill. Out the second story window. It hurt like hell… but they were safe. He had broken their fall. The world was blurry, but it was there. The sirens. The voices. They’d find him. Rynwick let himself pass out.

[22tabby]

Memoir didn’t know how much time had passed since she first fell in the patient room. Her body felt heavy. She didn’t have the strength to move; even the thought of rolling her head into a less neck-wrenching position was too much. She didn’t feel the strain anyway.
—
Had she passed out again? Memoir barely flitted her eyes open for a moment to realize that the second floor was also on fire now. Smoldering ashes fell from the ceiling tile. She was warm, it was almost comforting.
Outside she could hear sirens. Ambulances must be moving the patients to other hospitals in the area. Between the sound of one ambulance coming and the other going though, Memoir heard yelling. Patients were crying, doctors and nurses were yelling orders to keep the patients stable, but over all of that she heard a familiar voice. Rynwick. She didn’t know what he was saying, but he sounded urgent, maybe even desperate, and angry.
At least he made it out safe.
—
Memoir didn’t know that the time between her being in and out of consciousness wasn’t more than just minutes at a time. Every time she woke up it felt like hours had passed.
This time she had no strength to even open her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to if she could anyway. Her body was heavy, but it felt like she was in a state of sleep paralysis- unable to move at all. The only reason she even knew she was in the hospital at all was the sound of crackling around her, and the warmth still.
She was surprised to feel arms wrap around her. It was Rynwick, she knew. She could feel his rough hands, plus she had already resigned herself to not being saved by the first responders. Only he was still crazy enough. Maybe with him she could sleep peacefully now.
—
Was Memoir still alive? This time it felt like she had been asleep for a lot longer. But still all she heard was Rynwick’s breathing and the sound of a very loud siren. She couldn’t feel him anymore. True paralysis was all she could explain the feeling as. She couldn’t move her body or even feel it.

[22tabby]

Rynwick regained consciousness sometime later, jolted awake by ruts in the road the ambulance haphazardly sped over. Smoke no longer clouded his vision or filled his lungs, but the immeasurable searing, throbbing sting, of singed paws and smoky lungs swiftly returned. Though he no longer struggled to breathe, every wheezy inhale felt as if he had set himself aflame once more.

Bleary eyed, Rynwick attempted to inventory his surroundings. The gentle vibration of the ambulance speeding along the road soothed him somewhat, though he had no idea where they were headed. It was difficult for Rynwick to make out much of anything, it hurt to move at all, so he resigned himself to swaying with the motions of the vehicle, staring at the stark white ceiling. There had to be someone with him there, didnt there? A single question was burning in Rynwick’s mind.

“Mmmemoiir.. .. .. iis.. she.. “ Rynwick struggled to find his words, his voice hoarse. He sucked in a ragged breath, ready to ask again. He had to know.

The medic stopped him, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder. “You found her in time… She was flown to the nearest hospital.” The medic’s soft voice trailed off, and though he couldn’t see her face, Rynwick could feel her guilt rolling off in waves.

Rynwick’s eyes softened, and in lieu of speaking he offered the medic a relieved smile. She was alive, that was all he needed for now. He shut his eyes, attempting to tune into the motion of the ambulance to dull the searing pain of his own body.

[22tabby]

It had been a few nights since the fire, and Rynwick was largely confined to his own hospital room. Despite the wounds he sustained, his focus was still elsewhere. With Memoir. Each time the nurses, doctors, or even housekeeping came through the room, he asked of her. Eventually, they began to update him before even stepping through the doorway.

Rynwick would heal, he insisted, the burns were bad but nothing that time couldn’t mend. It was Memoir that worried him. No one knew how long she had been there alone, Rynwick could only provide an estimate. Time had stretched and contorted into meaninglessness in the face of disaster, he wasn’t even sure how long he had braved the fires for. Though much of the staff was vague with him, Rynwick had largely puzzled together the information on Memoir’s condition. He was nearly a doctor himself, after all.

Rynwick had inferred that Memoir was likely in respiratory failure due to smoke inhalation, and he knew she was in the intensive care unit. It was also entirely possible she was on oxygen, if not on a ventilator, in an attempt to preserve her energy and maintain lung function. The burns proposed a unique problem as well — though they could be grafted and would otherwise heal, they greatly increased the risk of infection to an already vulnerable Memoir.

Rynwick poured over the existing literature on burn patients in respiratory failure as he recovered, constantly goading the doctors for more information. Had they been able to reduce the oxygen flow? Tried applying fish skin to the graft sites to help the healing process? Which doctor was attending? Had she improved at all?

Each day, the answers he received became less enthusiastic. She wasn’t improving. It was nearly all they could do just to keep her from getting worse. Rynwick was healing, slower than he would have liked, but he was able to practice again within a couple weeks time.

Rynwick begged the hospital staff for a position there, he couldn’t live with himself if he sat by idly while Memoir withered away. It was his fault, he hadn’t gone after her fast enough. He hadn’t given a second thought about accepting the candle from the patient’s family… it had been a long shift, and the family had been so earnest. It was his fault.

Rynwick hovered over Memoir, doting upon her in silence. He brushed the hair from her face, gingerly brushing through her long curls until they lay around her, framing her frail features. It looked almost as if she was sleeping there, her expression was so peaceful… Rynwick’s gaze broke, fists clenched and lip quivering as he turned away. He would fix this. He had to take responsibility for this. He had to fix what he had done. Rynwick let his shoulders fall, inhaling a shaky breath. He kneeled at the bedside, now level with Memoir, watching the mechanical rise and fall of her chest. Trembling, he reached out to her, enclosing one of her hands in his own.

“I… I promise you, Memoir. I promise. I’ll fix this,” Rynwick slunk down, cheek brushing against Memoir’s. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

Another staggered inhale. Rynwick’s shoulders sagged as if they held the weight of the world. “I’m so sorry. I can fix this, I will fix this. For you.”

[22tabby]

Memoir found herself sitting on the grass outside of the hospital. She was across the street, just watching the building crumble to pieces. It was terrifying, but oddly beautiful. Fire always is, she thought, it’s natures deadliest beauty.
Memoir smiled. She had saved all of her patients. She wasn’t too clear on the last few that she needed to help, but she could feel that they were in a better good place. Several hours had passed since the fire started, although it almost felt like days had gone by instead. All of the first responders seemed to have left the scene. The building was going to be razed to the foundation- not like it mattered much, there wouldn’t have been anything left anyhow.
The air was thick, and Memoir was struggling to breathe. Each breath was ragged and painful. What a price to pay for being an unsung hero, right? She chuckled to herself. She was trying to make light of a situation that… truthfully wasn’t that funny. Really, it was tragic. She had worked so hard to become a nurse.
Another brick fell, causing a small portion of the wall to collapse. “I promise you Memoir. I promise. I’ll fix this.”
Memoir looked up to see Rynwick standing next to her. With those words she felt a wetness on her cheek. She must have been crying.
“I’m so sorry. I can fix this, I will fix this. For you.” Rynwick’s voice sounded so far away from where he stood above her, although her wheezing didn’t help any.
Memoir wanted to say something to him, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.
How will you fix this? You cannot rebuild something so far gone. She wanted to tell him, but knew it would fall on deaf ears. Just let go. It’s okay…
Lost in the thoughts of what to say, Memoir heard his footsteps on the tile pavement, walking away. She lost her chance to tell him.

[22tabby]

Memoir walked through an open field filled with tall grasses that swished around her waist. Dreams had become much more steady, as consciousness was no more than a blip on the horizon.
She was not sure where she was headed or why. In fact this was one of the first times she wasn’t still on the hospital premises. As she walked, she was able to see someone else in this vast field with her.
A stranger? That was impossible. The mind can only construct faces from people we have seen, even if just in passing. No, wait.
“Mr. Jordan?” It was the man who she had given the toasted marshmallow candle to. “Mr. Jordan I’m glad you’re okay, did your son take you out here?”
As she got closer, Memoir noticed heavy scarring and exposed bones from the hospital fire. She began to feel more and more uneasy as she stared at him, her stride halting as she froze in fear.
The man spoke in a raspy voice, like someone using it for the first time after a decade, mixed with a crackling sound that could never be reproduced by the vocal cords. It was the crackle of a fire. “Memoir. It’s time to go. Back into the hospital, we must finish what we started.”
Memoir did not understand his words. What did we start? I don’t remember. Memoir didn’t respond. Where even was the hospital from here, anyway?
“Memoir… don’t you realize?” The man questioned. “Memoir you’ve been asleep since you went into the hospital, where you sat in the corner.”
Memoir’s eyes softened. “Mr Jordan, that was a long time ago. I know you haven’t seen me since then, but I’m not just sleeping when you don’t see me.” She recalled his always telling her to sleep well when she left his room at the hospital, no matter the reason.
The man sighed. “Memoir, Rynwick didn’t save you. You’ve been asleep for weeks now.”
Thats impossible. I would be… “Comatose.” She whispered.
The being in front of her nodded. “And you can’t sleep forever. You’re not waking up.”
Memoir suddenly understood what he meant. Mr Jordan- or whoever was taking his form, this body- died in that fire. The figure in front of her is how she last saw him when she tried to see if he could be saved.
She took a step backwards. She didn’t feel ready to die. The man snapped it’s fingers, and all of the grass behind him seemed to spontaneously combust, with the flames spreading rapidly in Memoirs direction. She ran. She ran as fast as she could. Could she really outrun death though? She used to joke that some of her patients seemed to be escaping death with how well they held on but… now she realized that was not an easy feat, or a laughing matter.
Memoir felt the flames lick the end of her tail. She felt the blazing heat behind her. It was hard to run any faster when she could barely even breathe. She had began to slow down. Her breathing was more labored and painful than ever. Maybe she really was out of time. As the flames from the grass surrounded her, she coughed harder than she ever had before.
A flash of what Memoir could only describe as lightning struck her. It was painful, and for a moment all she saw was bright white. Then she sat in the field again, but this time no one was around. The burnt grass had put itself out, although the evidence was hard to miss. She was alone again.
So I’m in a coma, huh? I guess I gotta try to find a way to wake up, because I’m certainly not just going to die.
If only she knew that her life was out of her control. No one could escape death. Not that easily.

[22tabby]

Rynwick clicked each nail to the other in turn, nervously running over the nail beds of his fingers and back. It had been a damn long time since he’d been back home. He recalled the way they had looked at him as we walked away, spitting and swearing that he would never be back. They had never loved him, nor had they even bothered to pretend they did. When he wasn’t useful to his parents, they turned against him. They didn’t need to say anything to him that day, everything he needed to know was written on their faces. They hated him. Coming back came at a price. Rynwick grimaced, knocking again at his parents door.

“ I know you’re home you scumbags. The least you could do is humor me… I’ll comply with you. Only this one damn time” He spat, fists balled against the doorframe.

The door swung open, his father stood in the doorway, shoulders squared. Rynwick was still dwarfed by him. Rynwick hated the way his father’s brow furrowed, the disgusting smirk that was plastered across his father’s face reeked of self-satisfaction. His father was as vile as ever, but Rynwick had to see this through. For Memoir.

“All I want is the name of the black magic enforcer. I don’t give a damn what it takes to get it – but it better be quick” Rynwick broke the silence, though the tension was still palpable. His fathers grip on the door remained firm as he blocked the doorway. Rynwick would sooner have died than walked into the house again.

“Your hospital job. You will cease that nonsense, and work as the family supplier. There are plenty of morgues in the area,” Rynwick’s father boomed, his form unbroken.

“Done. The name. Now.” Rynwick scowled, fur bristling as he locked eyes with his father.

“Anzu.” His father snorted, before slamming the door shut tightly once more.
To hell with him, Rynwick turned tail, and began pacing towards the seedy district of town. He knew the name Anzu, and it was likely the fellow would be easy to track down. Of all the members of the family business, the black magic enforcer had always been the easiest to follow, and a careless flake.

—

Rynwick made a beeline for the bars in the underbelly of his hometown. Being back in the thicket of criminals, drunks, enforcers, and clueless victims made his skin crawl. Every hair in his body was protesting, as if they were being smothered by the stinking, humid, and clammy air that permeated the streets. The sooner he found Anzu, the better.

Many things from Rynwick’s childhood were unclear. Rynwick much preferred to keep it as such – but Memoir was more important than getting out of all this. Without her, he wouldn’t know what it was like to escape, to savor what was waiting at the end of everything. He couldn’t lose that, not after everything he had seen by her side, and everything they had yet to see.

It didn’t take long to find Anzu. Hell, even if Rynwick hadn’t been able to remember his bright orange fur, it would have been easy to spot him. Anzu was already many drinks into his barcrawl, and the loose-lipped fool was performing magic in the streets. The feared mage had turned into nothing more than a laughable street performer in his drunken state, and no one would bat an eye if the nuisance was removed. Rynwick pulled him aside, swathed in robes to appear much larger than he was.

“You. Mage of the Family of Spades. You will pass on to me your notes on all things necromantic.” Rynwick growled, a threat ready on his lips.

To his chagrin, Anzu merely handed the book over. The Necronomicon. The drunken fool laughed, wishing him a hearty good luck before stumbling out of the alleyway, and back towards the next bar. It was… odd. Rynwick had always known the mage to be rather careless and apathetic though, perhaps Anzu no longer needed the books, or simply didn’t care. Regardless, Rynwick tucked away the book, hurrying back towards his study. This was his chance to save Memoir.

[22tabby]

Comatose. A long slumber in which Memoir could not awake from. Her dreams over and over reminded her of the state that she was in. Yet every dream she forgot again. On a constant loop of running away from her own death, continuously being interrupted and saved by blinding pain. She constantly was feeling Deja Vu.
Today, or whatever Memoir experienced as today, she was again running. Black smoke was filling her lungs and vision, the air was so thick that she was swimming in it. All she had to do was not touch the bottom. She felt the pull.
I know this isn’t the first time. Memoir didn’t know how many times she had tried to escape death, but once she was running, she always had the vague memory of having attempted this many times before. And she also had the vague memory of the pain that she had come to accept as her savior. Living was painful. It was a trade off, one that she began to know made each escape weaker and weaker for her.
Maybe I should… Is all of this pain worth it? She could barely keep breathing, it was no more useful than breathing after your lungs have filled with water. I don’t know… how long has this torture been going on? Would I wake up in a whole separate decade? Will I simply run until I pass of old age or someone pulls the plug? I…
Memoir stopped churning her arms and legs through the smoke. She stared as the ground slowly became closer. It looked like it was rising up to her by how it broke through the smog.
Forgive me, Ryn. But I cannot-
The smoke disappeared, as if a large gust of air under Memoir had blown the air away completely. She fell the last 3 feet, landing on her stomach.
Panic rose in her chest. Before she could even brace herself, the white flash blinded her once again. The searing pain that enveloped her body was worse than she had ever felt. This felt worse than the fire in the hospital.
Her consciousness escaped her. Memoir’s soul was peeled apart like string cheese. It was lit aflame, remolded, polished, and given a second chance. However Memoir would always be dependent on another to live, even if she didn’t know it.
“-MEMOIR!”
Memoir shot up from where she laid, scared awake by the sound of someone screaming her name. Where was she? She took a deep breath, it was shaky and painful, yet the most refreshing breath she had ever taken.
“Ryn…?” Memoir stared at Rynwick, facing away from her and kneeling on the floor. “Rynwick where am I?” She questioned him once his head whipped around to lock eyes with her.
The last thing she remembered was the heat, her patients, and the smell of burning.