John hissed in pain as the needle plunged into his arm. The nurse hardly glanced at him as she dug it deeper in, wiggling it ever so slightly to find the vein.

Feeling whoozy he gripped the banister of the gurney tightly and wrenched his eyes closed. Thankfully she managed to find the vein and stopped rooting around. When his head felt a little heavier he opened his eyes and glared at her.

“What are you in training?”

The woman ignored him as she taped the needle down to his arm. He noticed she made a point to trap a few hairs under the adhesive. Normally it would have been something to complain about, but under these circumstances it hardly mattered. It’s not as if he was going to feel them getting ripped out later.

She attached a saline bag to the IV and fed a stream through. John shivered as the cool liquid hit his arm and she quickly detached it, again ignoring his reaction.

He glared at her as she walked over to his other arm and began prepping it for a needle as well.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Be quiet.”

John looked over at the guard who was lounging against the wall, his arms folded. A tattoo of an oval on his left wrist. The man looked annoyed, as if the entire matter was a major inconvenience for him.

“Or what?”

The guard glowered at him for a moment but understood the point he was making and stayed silent.

John hissed again as the second needle plunged into his arm. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed to be more forceful than the last one had been.

The sensation of two needles in his arm was already three needles more than he could bear and the room started swaying. He had never understood when his college buddies used to go off and shoot up.
In a world of pleasures it seemed like injecting your body with a needle to access one of them shouldn’t have even made the list.

Again he was on the brink of passing out when he felt her start taping the needle down. He was good once the needles were in, it was while they were being injected that his body started crumbling.

The cool splash of solution hitting his right arm forced his eyes open and he watched as the nurse swiftly detached the saline bag and tossed it into a biowaste bin. She checked the IVs a few more times before checking the lines leading into the walls. Satisfied there wasn’t anything wrong with them she walked out of the room without so much as a glance in his direction.

He understood her not wanting to speak to him, but at least some acknowledgement she was going to be one of the last people he would ever see would have been nice.

Nothing happened for a few seconds so John laid his head back on the gurney and tried to get comfortable. He stared up at the ceiling trying desperately not to think about how the last year had played out.

During that time he had talked to various individuals from therapists to the warden himself about how people acted in their final moments. The consensus was that everyone was different; some were angry, some in disbelief that their life now had a countdown, and others convinced that something would come along and save them.

But once the day arrived and the final hours were upon them it was said they all became calm, complacent, and reflective. It was as if the reality had sunk in and they’d finally accepted that their lives were ending and there was nothing they could do.

Unfortunately for John he didn’t feel calm or acceptive, he felt afraid. He had been raised Christian, converted to nihilistic atheism in college, and then settled somewhere in between once he married. A few more years with Salem and he might have come back to Christianity. As a result he had mixed feelings about what the afterlife held for him, if there even was one, and how it would account for the decisions that led him to be strapped to this gurney.

John found himself envious of the others who found themselves in the same position and killed over the years. At least they had the closure of knowing whether they were guilty or not.

He was startled when the prison guard suddenly appeared in his field of view.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“The warden asked if you had any final words.”

John tilted his head forward and saw that the curtains had been opened and a few people were sitting in the viewing room. A quick scan told him there was no one there he recognized, though that didn’t surprise him, apart from Salem there really wasn’t anyone.

“Make up something clever for me.”

The guard rolled his eyes and walked away, shaking his head to indicate John had nothing to say.

In reality John had a lot to say, mostly questions, but none that anyone in that room could answer. Maybe if there was some kind of afterlife he could learn the things he needed to and find some kind of closure, even if it was a little ugly.

Or there could be nothing and none of it would matter as he ceased to exist.

He heard the whir of machinery behind him and he glanced back to see a clear blue liquid flowing through one of the IV tubes. It probably only took a few seconds, but for John the liquid seemed to flow at a leisurely pace, as if it was taunting him.

When an eternity passed it flooded into his arm. He had been expecting pain or irritation of some kind, but it was similar to the saline in a way in that it was a cool shock to the system.

In moments John felt everything become heavy and breathing was suddenly a chore. It wasn’t as if he suddenly lost his breath or couldn’t draw in air, it merely took much more effort to do so than before. It only plagued him for a few seconds before his body just couldn’t stay awake any longer and darkness swiftly rushed in. The last thought that crossed his mind was the faint image of Salem standing next to him as his eyes closed.

 

#

 

John opened his eyes and found himself in a drab gray hospital room. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lighting he tried to look around and found that he was strapped to a hospital bed that was tilted upright. His arms, legs, and even his head were all tied down with restraints. The only thing he could really move were his eyes.

Across from him was a young woman strapped down in similar fashion. Her eyes were closed and the slow rise and fall of her body told him she was sleeping. On either side of here were two more people similarly strapped down to hospital beds.

“Hello?”

His voice came out in a low croak that barely carried beyond his own bed. Clearing his throat he tried again a bit louder and clearer.

“Hey can any of you hear me?”

“I can hear you.”

John nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice that came from his immediate left. He tried craning his head in that direction but the strap wouldn’t let him and his peripheral only reveled the end of a hospital bed.

“What’s going on?”

“Not sure,” said the unseen man quietly, “I’ve been awake for a few minutes. I think you and I are the only ones awake. I’ve tried calling out a few times but no one answered.”

“Do you know-.”

“Look man, I know about as much as you do. I fell asleep in a hospital bed under the impression I wouldn’t ever wake up again and I woke up here. I don’t know where here is, why we’re here, or anything. Unless you have any ideas I’ve got nothing.”

“You said you were in a-.”

There was a loud bang off to the left and the three people in front of John woke up with a start. The young woman in front of him started screaming as she pulled against her restraints.

“Hello everyone,” said a voice off to the left, “My name is Dr. Ramira, I will be attending to you all today.”

“Where are we,” asked the man to the left of the young woman.

“I’m sure you all have questions but give me a moment to attend to each one of you and everything will be resolved.”

A man started screaming before he was suddenly cut off with a gurgle. John couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard someone sniffing.

“Nope, not this one.”

A number of individuals from that direction started screaming as the doctor began rambling to himself.

“Did you know a person’s blood type can tell a lot about them? In my years of study I noticed some interesting correlations between personality types and a person’s blood.”

One of the people screaming to his left grew suddenly higher in pitch before they cut off with a gurgle and then went quiet. Though a number of other people were still screaming John was convinced he could hear that same sniffing sound.

“For instance, I’ve determined that a number of people with AB positive blood tend to be more selfish. It only makes sense really considering AB positive types are-.”

He paused for a second and another individual screaming began gargling before growing silent. Then the sniffing came before the doctor sighed.

“…selfish.”

John strained against the straps but couldn’t gain any slack or leverage to free himself.

“It only makes sense really when you consider that AB positive types can only donate to other AB positive types but can receive from everyone. It reminds me a lot of the 1%, politicians, and royalty in the world. Stuck up snobs who’ll only doll out to their own but are more than happy to sponge off the rest of society.”

Another louder scream, gargle, and then sniffing.

“Of course, AB positive types aren’t nearly as bad as AB negative blood types. I mean they will only receive blood from other negatives. Who would choose that? For a society obsessed with being happy and doing what feels good why would you only receive blood from negative types?”

John struggled against his restraints as yet another screamer was silenced and sniffed over.

“In fact, what’s interesting to me is that not a single blood type will exclusively receive donations from a positive blood type. Every single one of them is more than happy to gorge off at least one negative blood type. The only ones that comes close are O positives.”

The people in front of John started screaming in horror and the man to John’s left started begging and pleading with the mysterious doctor to stop whatever he was doing. A gurgle somewhere further down told him the man’s continued pleadings weren’t working.

“And isn’t that a kick in the pants? The O positives are the closest to being the most sane blood type. The blood type most common in Latino-Americans and African-Americans is the closest to sanity? How can that be?”

The man suddenly appeared in John’s field of view as he approached the man to the left of the young woman in front of him. He was wearing a white lab coat with the symbol of a dark gray shield emblazoned across the back and his red hair was disheveled. He held a bloody scalpel under the throat of the man and quickly jerked the blade to one side.

John wrenched his eyes closed, but what he saw remained in his mind, playing out over and over again. When he heard sniffing he opened his eyes to see the deranged doctor leaning over the man as he bled out, sniffing the blood pouring from his neck.

Shaking his head the doctor turned around and John’s eyes went wide.

The front of his lab coat was soaked with blood that dripped to the floor as he walked. He wore a pair of glasses that were missing a lens and the one remaining was drenched with blood. His blue eyes darted side to side subtly as he slowly shuffled to the man to John’s left.

“In short I’ve become disgusted with all of the blood types I encountered. Even the Rh factor did little to dissuade me that we’re all corrupt at our core. Every blood type seeks out negativity. Some try to remain superior by only donating to positive blood types like A positive or B positive, but they’re all the same.”

The man next to John was screaming for the man to not kill him. The doctor slowly shuffled out of John’s view to his left and he heard the sickening tearing sound of the scalpel being dragged across the stranger’s throat. He flinched when a few droplets of something wet and hot struck his cheek and he nearly vomited when he realized it was the man’s blood.

“But there’s one blood type I have hope for. One blood type that tells me mankind isn’t completely hopeless and there’s a chance that we can turn things around.”

He shuffled back into view and John watched as he slowly approached the young woman in front of him.

“O negative. These poor bastards will give to anyone who’ll take them but will only receive from their own kind. I mean it’s still a negative blood type and they only receive from other negatives, but that selflessness in giving to anyone, that sets them apart.”

John watched in horror as the doctor placed the scalpel under the young woman’s throat and held it there for a moment. The seconds dragged by as the young girl’s eyes rolled in their sockets and the doctor held perfectly still.

“I’m not an O negative, I’m a selfish AB positive. How ironic is that? The most selfish blood type is a positive?”

He slit her throat and waited for the blood to stop spurting before leaning in to sniff. The man sighed and slowly stepped back.

“So close, an O positive.”

He turned and locked eyes with John. John had never met anyone genuinely insane, but he imagined even they would be afraid of this man before him. That single unobstructed eye temporarily stopped roaming from side to side and settled on him, it was just for a second, but it was enough to send chills up John’s spine.

The man’s eyes were alive with excitement, it was as if electricity was coursing through his body and only his eyes could show it. After the brief eye contact his eye started darting side to side again, as if it was trembling in anticipation. The man shuffled forward as if taking his time or unable to make his legs work.

“Imagine a world with only O negatives. People able to give to anyone, but only willing to receive from each other. If everyone was an O negative there would only be selfless people, no selfishness.”

He chuckled as he reached the end of John’s bed.

“But of course there would still be a critical flaw. A defect in society if everyone were an O negative.”

John trembled in fear as the man stood at his side and brought the scalpel up to his neck. He could feel the warm edge of the blade just resting there, coated in who knew how many people’s blood. John closed his eyes, his lips trembling as he waited for what was coming.

“We’d all be negatives feeding off of negatives.”

There was a loud bang and John’s face was peppered with hot liquid. The scalpel nicked his throat before it suddenly fell and a massive weight landed on his legs. John opened his eyes with a cry and saw that the doctor was slumped onto his body, blood pouring out of his chest.

The glasses were skewed onto the man’s forehead and his eyes slowly settled on John’s neck. The man gave a loud sniff before a smile spread across his face.

“Look at that, O negative.”

The doctor’s eyes glazed over as they remained focused on his neck. John tried to buck him off, but his legs and arms were so tightly restrained he couldn’t get enough leverage to move him.

The people to John’s right were either screaming or crying. An old man to the right of the young woman was staring at John in disbelief. Whether it was that the doctor was dead or out of shock he wasn’t sure. John wasn’t even entirely sure how he felt, none of this felt real, none of this should be real.

A man wearing a light blue uniform with a handgun trained on the doctor appeared into view. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and he had the same shield symbol emblazoned on the shoulders of his uniform. Over the light blue uniform was a black Kevlar vest, it too had a gray shield emblazoned on the front.

The man nudged the doctor with his gun.

“He’s dead,” John said numbly.

The man grabbed the doctor and flipped him off the hospital bed and onto the floor. Satisfied he was deceased the man trained the gun on John.

“Who are you?”

John blinked.

“I said who are you?”

“John.”

“Why are you here John?”

“What?”

The man took a step forward and held the gun a few inches from his forehead.

“Are you real?”

John searched the man’s gaze struggling to understand what he was just asked.

“Are you real?”

“What do you-? Yes of course I’m real.”

“Prove it.”

“How would you like me to do that?”

The man’s eyes searched his for a moment. He didn’t appear to be insane, but John wasn’t sure anyone sane would ask him to prove he was real.

“Tell me how you got here.”

“I have no idea.”

A hard gaze came across the man’s face and John had the eerie feeling he was going to pull the trigger at any second.

“Look, one minute I was lying in a hospital bed waiting to die and then I woke up in a hospital bed waiting to die before you killed him.”

The man looked down at the doctor for a moment before meeting John’s gaze again and waited thoughtfully.

“I have no idea how I got here, where here is, or why I’m even here. If you have any answers I’d be glad to have them, but if you’re a psychopath like that guy was I’d rather you just put one in my head and be done with it.”

They stared at each other for a moment before the man sighed and lowered the weapon.

“Alright good enough.”

Still holding onto the gun he reached down and yanked back one of the straps on John’s left arm. John hesitated for a second before reaching over to release his right arm, then his head.

“Do you trust the others?”

John looked up from the straps on his legs and glanced around. The left side of the room was a bloodbath. Nine people lay in pools of their own blood on hospital beds. Looking over at the man to his immediate left it was strange to think that he had spoken to the individual, but never saw his face while he was alive. Looking at his body now seemed wrong, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the blue eyes open wide in horror.

“Hey!”

John turned back to see the man in uniform looking at him, the gun raised slightly off the ground, though not pointed at him.

“Do you think we can trust them?”

John looked over to see him pointing at three individuals still strapped to their hospital beds. One woman and two men had their eyes on the man’s gun and a few darted glances at John.

“Let them go.”

“I asked if-.”

“I don’t know if we can trust them, any more than I trust you or you trust me.”

The man met his gaze for a moment before sighing and approaching a man that had been to John’s right side. As soon as his back was turned John quickly squatted down and snatched the bloody scalpel that was lying on the floor next to the doctor’s body. He palmed it, careful not to slice himself open. Feeling the cooling blade against his skin sent shivers through his body, but it felt good to be armed with something.

“Who the hell are you?”

The person who spoke was the man sitting on John’s right, a large black man with a scar across the top of his head like he’d had brain surgery at some point in his life.

The uniformed man walked over to the woman that was next to him against the wall and started releasing her straps.

“My name is Conrad. I’m a guard for Darkshield.”

“Darkshield,” asked the man, “what’s that?”

“Large company. A few hours ago I’d have told you they were a tech company, but now I have no idea.”

The black man walked across the room to start releasing an elderly man that had been sitting in front of him off to the right. John frowned when he saw the man’s hospital gown was exposed in the back and he glanced behind himself to see that his backside was exposed as well. Given the circumstances it was a minor thing and no one else seemed to care, but he personally would have felt better with a pair of pants. He eyed the doctor and immediately rejected that idea seeing all the blood he was drenched in.

“What do you mean you have no idea?” asked the black man as he helped the older gentleman with his leg restraints.

“Look I was just charged with-.”

There was a loud bang behind John and he whirled to see a woman stumbling into the room, two sets of large doors swinging shut behind her.

“Hold it!”

John looked back to see Conrad approaching with the gun raised and he quickly backed up to the wall to get out of the line of fire. The woman stopped in her tracks and raised her hands. She was dressed in a light green blouse with dark blue slacks, and John was stunned to see she was wearing black heels.

Seeing Conrad she lowered her arms and bent over at the waist, panting.

“Oh thank goodness.”

Conrad came within ten feet of her and stopped, his gun never lowering.

“Who are you?”

She glanced up at him, still breathing heavily.

“Amy Sanders, I work in the archives on this floor.”

Conrad squinted a little and titled his head to one side.

“Are you real?”

She looked up incredulously

“What?”

“I said are you real?”

“Of course I’m real, what are you talking about?”

“Then where’s your shadow?”

John frowned and looked at the woman. He didn’t see a shadow behind her, but in this room with all the lightning it didn’t seem too absurd.

The woman however had an entirely different reaction. One minute she was panting heavily and the next she was upright seemingly having caught her breath and laughed.

“Well shit.”

Conrad fired his weapon and the woman collapsed to the floor. The three behind Conrad gave startled shouts and the large black man quickly darted forward and grabbed the guard. John was in a bit of a daze as he watched the two struggling before looking over at the dead woman.

“What did you do that for,” shouted the large man.

Conrad growled in response. He was fit, but the large man had an easy forty pounds on him and it was working to his advantage.

“Let him go,” said John numbly.

“Are you crazy? He just shot that woman!”

“It wasn’t a woman.”

The man gave him an incredulous look before he glanced at the body, his large arms still wrapped around Conrad. Seeing what John was staring at caused his jaw to slacken and he quickly released the guard.

The woman had been shot in the chest, but instead of red blood pouring out of the wound it was a shiny brown substance, like oil. Even stranger was the fact that her skin was melting into a misshapen puddle beneath her body.

As the skin sloughed off into lumps on the floor it revealed a smooth white head underneath. No eyes, mouth, or nostrils, just a blank slate in the rough shape of a human’s head.

“It’s a mannequin,” muttered the older man.

Conrad approached and stood next to John. As he holstered his weapon John finally pulled his eyes away from what was now a white mannequin wearing a woman’s outfit with lumps of skin puddled beneath it. He looked up to see Conrad meeting his gaze.

“Not real.”

 

Author’s Note:

I hope you’re enjoying Darkshield: John’s Arc 1. A new chapter comes out free every week and next week’s chapter will be available on August 31st 2020.

If you decide you can’t wait that long then you can find the entire book on your favorite retail site for $3.99. It comes with all 10 chapters of Arc 1 and is much more convenient on your ereader. If you’re interested click here.

Alternatively, if you enjoy receiving it in serial fashion than feel free to support the project through Patreon. You can find a community of readers like you who enjoy this world I’m creating and want to see it grow by providing whatever support they can. My Patreon page can be found by clicking here.

Finally, if your finances are tight right now or you have mixed feelings about the book and aren’t sure you want to support a weirdo, then keep reading for free as the chapters come out every week. I’m doing this for fun and I’m appreciative of anyone who’s coming along for the ride.