Brain

“Glen, why are you in my house?” Dawn asked, snapping on the light.

Glen, sitting on her living room couch in front of a blank TV screen, continued staring straight ahead. He wore sweatpants, a pullover sweater, a tie, one shoe, and one rain boot. His hair was uncombed.

“The paper shredder is on fire,” he said.

Dawn slowly walked closer to him.

“What paper shredder, hon?” I don’t have a paper shredder.”

Glen turned his head slightly. His eyes were bloodshot and dilated.

“Blue tulips.”

Dawn wrinkled her brow.

“Are you…on something?” She had never seen him drink more than a beer or two.

Glen gave a faint smile and looked back at the TV, which was on, but not set on a channel. The cable box was off. He clasped his hands and corrected his posture. He cleared his throat.

“Wiggle wiggle wiggle

Turn turn turn

For each, our final master

Will be the Conqueror Worm.”

Dawn gasped. “What the fuck?” She pulled out her phone. “That’s it. I’m calling 911.”

Five minutes later, police and paramedics arrived. Glen was examined and questioned, but still had no coherent response. Since he was not an immediate threat, he was taken to the hospital for further examination. Dawn followed, and she and the ambulance arrived at the hospital around 7 PM. She sat in the waiting room of the ER for 45 minutes until a tall man in scrubs came out to see her.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Snyder. Are you Glen’s friend?”

“Yes, I’m Dawn Hanley.”

“Hello Ms. Hanley. We’re going to be holding your friend overnight. He’s being transferred to a room right now. We’ll have someone come get you shortly so you can go see him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

The doctor scratched his head. “Well, that’s what we’re figuring out. Glen hasn’t been able to tell us anything himself, but in doing my exam I found he had an infected cut on his foot, maybe a cat scratch, plus he had just had an ingrown toe nail treated on his right foot, and part of the post-op treatment includes a powerful antibiotic, which would address both the cat scratch and the toe surgery. However it appears he has had a rare reaction to the medication, which has resulted in brain inflammation. That would seem to be our current situation.”

“How bad is it?”

The doctor turned up one corner of his mouth a bit and shrugged lightly. “It’s a manageable situation. We’re giving him some anti-inflammatories and fluids since he’s a bit dehydrated. The infection isn’t getting any worse, which is good, but we’ve switched him to a different antibiotic, and we’ll give him some probiotics to help keep his stomach from being sick. He’s likely having some discomfort there, which is common. So, if we do all that and things go well, we can have him home maybe tomorrow, or by the weekend. We’ll have to see. Does he have family in the area?”

“No, just me. I’m his best friend. That’s how he got in. He has the key to my house.”

“Ah. I think you told the officers and paramedics that earlier. You can sit with him until visiting hours, and if you’d like to stay I’ll leave a note at the nurse’s desk that you have my permission. He has a mild sedative so he can get some rest. If you’re hungry the cafeteria is open until 9 for meals, and after that you can get snacks or sandwiches.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

He nodded. “Someone will come get you in a few minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, Dawn was in Glen’s room, lowering herself into a mostly comfortable chair near his bed. The wall-mounted TV was on, tuned to the Weather Channel, but the sound was off. Glen was now dressed in a hospital gown and snugly tucked in to a standard hospital bed. An IV drip was in his left arm. The light over the head of his bed was off but the one on his bedside table was on. Glen’s eyes were half open. He stared into a vague space before him. His eyes, Dawn saw, were even more bloodshot than before.

“Hi bud,” Dawn said quietly. “So you’re not feeling good.”

Glen turned his head toward Dawn’s voice. After a moment he said, “Pudding.”

Dawn sat up straighter. “You’re feeling better? You want pudding?”

“Look at him,” Glen growled in a deep voice. “He’s like a pudding. Milquetoast eunuch. Feh.”

Dawn frowned. “Who are you talking about?”

Glen spoke in a voice more like his own. “Pandas. Not roly poly.”

“I’m pretty sure they are bud. All pandas are roly poly. Get some sleep. You’ll be better soon.”

“Buzz. Bzz. Buzz.”

Glen was silent for a while and closed his eyes. When he was asleep Dawn went to get a ham salad sandwich and a cookie from the cafeteria. She ate them, drank a pint of milk, then went back to Glen’s room and dozed for a bit. Around 9:30 Glen started talking again.

“Red sky. All red. The King is coming. Hide the acorns. He seeks them out. Crucified by Monday. Every man a tree.”

“What the fuck? Glen? What kind of shit are you saying now?”

His eyes were wide open and all red except the dark blue of his irises. He looked right at Dawn.

“There’s nowhere to run. He is the land. He is the sky. Stones spy for him. Even the clouds talk.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Glen tilted his head. “The King. The he she. Lord of the Cold Place. He hides by the water and cackles and writes songs of death by blue light. See his ancient teeth now made of putty. He sculpts worlds of shit and calls them crystal.”

“Since when are you a poet? Are you quoting something?”

“Look.” He pointed at the ceiling. “The sparows are silent except when they’re screaming. They have no eyes. “ I blended them all so they can’t take me to the grey world. They come but they can’t find their way back. I am safe.”

A heavy set nurse with a Jamaican accent, about 40 came in to the room.

“Every t’ing okay here wit’ you two?”

Dawn looked at the nurse, raised her eyebrows, and looked at Glen. “I guess. I don’t know. He’s been saying some bizarre stuff. Kings and sparrows and I don’t know what else. It’s weird.”

The nurse nodded, looking at his chart. She checked Glen’s temperature and his IV. “Well, that’s normal. He has a brain inflammation. All sorts of t’ings going on in there. I had a cousin, sam t’ing. He got sick, infection went to his brain, he t’ought he was a little girl with a puppy named Rosie. I was there when he was growing up. H never had no puppy and he weren’t no girl. It was the infection.” She gestured at the IV. “Don’t ou worry, this medication will clear it right up. In a day or two he’ll be better.”

“There is darkness inside the Sun,” Glen said.

The nurse looked at him, then looked at Dawn and winked. “Well now, you don’t say!”

Glen looked at her. “You don’t see it. It’s there. Check your frequency.”

Dawn chuckled. “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?”

The nurse nodded. “D’at’s right. Sam t’ing. That man was crazy.”

Dawn looked puzzled. “Michael Stipe?”

The nurse shrugged. “Maybe he is too, wit’ dat beard. No, the song. Dat guy from the song beat up a news guy. The old news guy, whatever his name. Yeah the guy was crazy for a little while and beat up the news guy saying that thing ‘bout frequency. My mother’s cousin was his doctor.”

“There are no plants in Hell. He doesn’t want them there. His garden is full of people.”

The nurse’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Glen.

“Holy shit,” Dawn said. “That’s creepy as fuck.”

The nurse looked at Dawn. “Does he keep saying the same things like that? Kings and Hell and whatever?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Hmm. That is strange. Maybe he’s having a dream. One long dream.”

“Or nightmare.” Dawn sat up straighter. “Hey, maybe that’s why he was at my house. He knew he was sick, or he was scared because he’s seeing nightmares.”

The nurse nodded. “Dat makes sense. If you’re his friend and he feels safe wit’ yeah, he goes to your place.”

Glen turned his head toward the nurse and suddenly grabbed her wrist.

“Cancer.”

“What?”

“It comes from the Sun. All cancer. He’s inside of it.”

“He’s inside cancer?’

“The cancer feeds on us. On everything. On you. When you look at cancer, it looks back at you, hungry. He feeds on everything. He wants it all.”

“Okay Mr. Simon, That’s enough out of you. Time for your nighttime sedative.’

“Yeah, knock him out,” Dawn said. “I can’t take much more of this shit.”

Glen looked at Dawn. “Mark never loved you. His mother ruined him.”

Dawn gasped, covered her mouth, and left the room. She kept going, down the hall, and the next hall, all the way to her car, then home. There she sat in her living room, smoking. Every light in her house was on. She hadn’t smoked in ten years.

In the morning, she went to work. On her way she called the hospital. Glen was resting peacefully and had not spoken since she left. He would likely be discharged that evening if his vitals were good and symptoms went away.

After worked she stopped for a coffee and a danish, then went to the hospital. Glen was awake and smiling when she arrived. His eyes were bright and clear.

“Hey pal,” he said.

“Hey bud.” She hugged him. “Feeling better?”

“Aside from pain in my toe and in the scratch on my leg, I don’t remember anything from the last couple of days,” he said. “The doctor and nurses say I was at your house, acting strange.”

Dawn nodded. “You could say that.”

Glen waggled his eyebrows. “Was I wearing pants?”

Dawn laughed. “Thankfully yes.”

Glen made a pouty face. “Too bad. The one time I lose it under the influence of drugs and not only is it an antibiotic, but the worst thing that happens is I go out in mismatched clothes.”

Dawn laughed again. “But for you that’s extreme.” She paused. “Do you remember anything?”

Glen nodded slowly. “Snippets and smears. I remember a little of your living room. Police. People looking in my eyes. Being lifted into and out of an ambulance. Then knowing I was here, but far away, getting pulled in closer all the time. The whole thing was like…my body was like my car, and somebody else was in the driver’s seat. I was outside the car, watching them drive.” He shuddered.

“What?” Dawn asked. “Feeling sick?”

“No. It was the other thing. Eyes. The whole time, ti was like I was watching the scene, but at the same time, across from me, so was someone else. All I could see was their eyes. Huge red eyes, full of hate.” He shuddered again.