Taking Sally to the Hospital



Dead Things at the Toll Booth

"I say we just leave the bitch here," Charles stated. "We've got our beer and we've got our weed. We should just go and let the state deal with that bitch as they may."

"I'll retain my belief that that idea is not the idea we should go with," Norman replied.

They were sitting in the waiting room that smelled of rubber gloves and medicine. The chairs lining the walls all around the rectangular room were mostly empty-a rarity amongst hospitals. There were only two others sitting around other than Norman, Samuel, Frederick and Charles. An old woman dressed in a plaid shirt and a flower-decorated skirt that went down to her ankles was sitting across the room reading a Reader's Digest. A young man was pacing the room with a worried look on his rugged face muttering something under his breath.

"I say we picked her up," Norman continued. "We did, and we got involved with her by doing so. We aren't going to just throw her into someone else's lap. Her father's dead, there's that insanely fast son of a bitch following her, and God knows where her mother is."

Charles's eyes withered at the mention of Him. Charles had forgotten all about that during Sally's seizure. or whatever the hell that was she had suffered. "The state's gonna take care of her anyway. Even if we stay here she's gonna be thrown een, er. in with some foster familai. And-"

"E-excuse me senior," Frederick butted in. "It gets a little confusing and quite annoying when you so drastically mispronounce words. Stop it."

Charles threw him a slightly angry look and then continued. "It doesn't matter if we stay here or not Norman; we can't help her; the gov'ment will. We should go; either that or we won't get back in time to keep our party going right along on schedule."

"The cops might want to question us," Samuel said. "Especially if we just drop this girl-Vernita, right?-into their lap and just speed off. What if she's taken drugs? If we take off it'll just give them reason to suspect that we gave them to her."

Then Samuel's eyes dropped as he realized something. "Oh God. If they suspect us at all, we're done. They'll search the vehicle even if we still are here. They might search it even if they do go out looking for that crash site." He then leaned back in the plastic chair he was sitting in, put his hands to his head and groaned.

"What was that she was mumbling about anyway?" Norman wondered aloud. "`Fatfuck Kidman's in trouble'?"

"She was just ranting," Charles responded. "Probably some flashback or something. Her memories surfacing maybe? God I'm tired and high and so fucking tired!"

"Hello?" the young man who had stopped pacing to eavesdrop called. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but, umm, you wouldn't happen to have the time would you?"

Frederick burst out laughing despite the grim nature of their situation-and their surroundings-and pointed behind the puzzled man. The man turned around and saw the clock hanging just above the exit. He turned back looking slightly embarrassed. "Th-thanks." Then he tried to explain. "I've been here for eight hours now and I'm probably more tired than you guys are. See, my wife kept me up all last night saying that she felt the baby coming and, well, obviously it was since I'm here."

Frederick's laughter had subsided into the giggles of a child who just can't help him or herself. The man resumed pacing. Norman found himself wondering just how long the man had been doing that.

He turned to Charles and they went on debating what they should do. All the while Norman found himself wondering just what that man had done after they had left.

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Rachel yawned copiously and stared out into the night sky. She had always found the stars fascinating. They were best observed from deep in the dark woods while lying on the ground waiting for the fire to die before going into your tent and sleeping, not from inside a well-lit toll booth while waiting for the next traveler to mosey on into your lane just so that you could occupy yourself with a task. Stars were too grand for the latter.

She started twiddling her thumbs. The act was not even remotely entertaining. She wished someone would just come save her from this boredom. She found her eyes threatening to snap shut on her. She forced them open; she shouldn't sleep on the job. That was the first lesson she had learned in the world of labor.

She remembered the first job she had had was the cashier of a music store. After five months of working there without being late once she had completely fucked up. She had made the mistake of staying up most of the night straddling her friend John instead of getting some sleep. She was so exhausted from the lack of sleep and from what she had done instead of sleep that she had laid her head down on the counter and fallen asleep. After that a wave of customers had flooded the store. A few complaints had been submitted and her ass was grass.

An episode of "COPS" had inspired her to get into law enforcement. What a joke! She was put on toll booth duty for what felt like an eternity every weekday that wasn't a major holiday. So she was forced to go to work two-hundred and fifty days a year. Sometimes she had to go in on weekends, but that presented some variables she didn't like to think about. Well, at least she got paid for every hour she spent in this claustrophobic hell.

She heard a distant engine roaring closer. Good. Rachel looked up and waited to take the toll and raise the red and white striped bar that blocked the car from continuing down the highway. She furrowed her eyebrows. The rather expensive-looking car was barreling towards her too fast for comfort.

"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath and stood up slightly. The car was close enough now for the light that lit the toll booth to reflect from its shiny metal covering. Her walkie-talkie beeped and Richard, the other toll collector, spoke through to her.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing Rachel?" he inquired.

"Yeah," she said without pressing the button so that he could hear her. Then she heard a grinding sound. It was coming from beside her. She looked over and out the window. What she saw made her gasp.

The red and white striped pole was bent to allow the car to pass through. It didn't look as though it had been forced to bend; it looked as though it had been created that way.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed. She struggled with her holster to free her magnum. She tore it out, the car less than thirty seconds away, and ran out into the road. She aimed her gun at the fast approaching car and fired. She got the front, driver side's tire and the front, passenger side's tire in four shots. Two shots remaining.

The car was still coming though, sparks flying from the rims of the tires. "STO-"

Then the car hit her still going at a good forty miles an hour. She felt her ribs snap like bread sticks. Her eyes rang and all other sounds were lost under that deafening sound, including her subsequent scream of pain. Upon smashing into the windshield of the car she noticed the extremely large man sitting in the passenger seat. He looked as dead as a door knob. She also saw Him. Even though she had no idea who or what He was, she still feared Him. She could sense His power radiating from His darkening body in a suffocating wave. Then she felt a stinging sensation in her head and the pain exploded for less than a second. Then Rachel Hamilton, twenty-eight years old and still in a relationship with John Chapman after ten years, was dead.

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"Rachel?" Richard called out upon exiting his toll booth. He shuddered partially at the echo of his voice and partially at the bitter cold that enveloped him as soon as he had stepped out of his warm toll booth. It seemed to be the only sound in the air other than a vague ticking noise, and that scared him.

He walked over to the pole for his own toll booth and ducked under it. He looked over towards Rachel's toll booth and saw that her pole was bent outward as if to allow something through. He began to approach the disfigured pole when suddenly a metal object was flung outward. He watched it slam into the road and slide almost out of sight. He could see what it was, though.

It was a seat belt buckle. and it was attached to the band that restrained the rider of a car from flying forward. There was only about half of the band there, and it looked like it had been snapped off of the rest of the band, and that there had been no resistance. Just like the pole, it looked as though it had been made that way.

Richard was unaware that He had snapped it off because it had jammed.

Richard was hesitant to keep going, but he kept going forward all the same.

He drew his gun, which was the same model as Rachel's, and held it in front of him. He was a sharp-shooter, and a fast one, too. If anything came running at him, he'd dispatch it before it got two steps. He was a quick thinker as well, so he wouldn't stupidly blow away Rachel if it was her that came running at him.

Unknown to him was the fact that he'd soon be wishing he would be stupid enough to do so.

"Rachel?" he called again, believing now that either Rachel was dead, or rendered unable to reply somehow considering she had shot off three or four rounds.

He got close to rounding the corner and seeing the car, Him, and the dead body of Rachel and Jerry Kidman. Before he could do so, however, Rachel stumbled around to face him.

Richard took in the brutal details of her body. Her shirt was completely covered in blood other than the space below her relatively small breasts that was shielded by her breasts from the blood that now coagulating on Rachel's face. Her right eye was seeping down her cheek and into the gash that spread from under her eye to above it. Glass dotted her forehead and her brunette hair was matted to her scalp by blood. Her lip was split. Her shirt was sticking to her abdomen with blood. Her left foot was awkwardly bent and looked quite efficiently broken. Her right was soaked in blood from a cut at her knee. Her right arm (which she refused to accept was half an inch longer than her left) looked as though it had no bones in it at all the way that it just dangled at her side lifelessly.

Richard didn't notice the fact that the blood should still be gushing from her head yet wasn't. He didn't notice the fact that it was coagulating even though it shouldn't. He didn't even notice the fact that her remaining eye was glazed over and her face becoming extremely pale in a way that not even the lack of sunlight could articulate. All he knew was that she was injured and that he needed to get her medical help right away.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

Rachel's reply was a smirk that exposed yellowing teeth that were blood stained.

It was at that moment that Richard regretted not emptying her skull with a pull of the trigger. Rachel lunged at him and snatched his shoulders. The thought that Rachel was a zombie crossed his mind. If she was a zombie, she was much smarter than zombies were in the movies.

He tried to shoot her, but she swatted the gun out of his hands. She gave him a shiner on the cheek and then threw her fist into his gut. He felt the wind fly out of him and he doubled over. Rachel was on top of him and her fists were flying. He was faintly aware that she was screeching.

(she's gone insane!)

They rolled on the tar wrestling with each other. Richard was trying to block her fists but was failing mostly.

He felt his nose splinter at some point. He tried to ignore that his left eye was bruised shut. He felt his own lip split. He felt warm blood trickling into his throat from torn gums and spaces where the roots of teeth were all that remained. His vision was beginning to gray.

He managed to get Rachel pinned down. He felt the pain coursing through his head and unsuccessfully tried to shake the pain away.

Then Richard felt a powerful presence overwhelm him. He looked up and Him standing above him. Richard could feel the power emanating from Him and cowered under that power.

"Who are you?" he asked in a shaky voice. Then he felt cold, dead fingers wrap around his throat. They were Rachel's. He walked away and left Richard to be throttled to death by Rachel. Richard was just another one of the dead for His reforming army.

~^~^~^ ! ! !$%$%$%

(Where am I?)

The question, even though unspoken, echoes through the chamber that Sally is now standing at the mouth of. Inside the chamber is a red and purple swirl of clouds. The chamber's walls, floor, and ceiling are all jagged and look like stone, but are really stainless steel. Sally hopes for an answer which does not come. She sits down on the floor and looks behind her.

Behind her is absolutely nothing. Well, that excludes the blinding white light emanating from whatever place it is that she's looking into.

(Where am I?)

She repeats.

No answer again. The question repeats itself nearly a hundred times before the echo dies down. Then the echoes of other voices begin to fill her head. The voice of a young woman and an older man are talking about the condition of someone.

The vision before her begins to fade and she very dimly sees someone looking down at her. The ceiling above that person is lined with florescent lights that are passing by. She listens to the squeaking of the wheels below her. She knows she is on a gurney.

She suddenly realizes something: her tongue is missing.

The vision dissipates and is replaced with the chamber. Her tongue is back.

The swirling clouds reform themselves to something that resembles the solar system. However, there are fifteen planets instead of nine. And the sun is shaped like a human being. Sally steps forward into the chamber, not caring that rather than falling down the steep incline she is standing in mid air. She doesn't care that every step forward she takes sends out waves in every direction like she's standing on the surface of a body of water.

It is only now that she notices the vast size of the chamber. Its ceiling is so far up that she can't see the top. Its walls are at least three miles apart. And she's standing at least half a mile to a mile above the stainless steel ground below her, yet she feels no vertigo; she feels as though she is standing on the ground.

She now thinks she knows where she is. This is the chamber of her memories. Now she notices the fact that, rather than revolving about the sun in an organized fashion, the planets are jerking about in whatever direction they feel like. Two of the planets, the smallest ones, and the closest to the sun that looks like a human, are moving in an organized way though.

The further out the highly reflective planets are, the larger they are.

She walks over to touch the fifteenth planet and it hesitantly comes to her. It is the size of a refrigerator. She puts her finger to it and suddenly she sees Norman through her windshield. She sees herself kicking him and falling face first onto the road.

And she sees Him standing before her and her father with an evil grin that spreads from ear to ear on his face.

Sally leaps back with a shriek. She rubs her finger and then tries to go further into the ring of planets. Immediately she finds herself standing in front of the human-shaped sun and beside the second planet. She wants to reach out and touch it, but doesn't. She doesn't want to see Him now. She doesn't want her memories to flood back now. She's in peace. She wants to stay in peace.

(But you can't)

She tells herself. The statement echoes as well.

(This is your chance. Take it.)

She knows this is true, but does not want to accept it. She reaches out to touch the sphere anyway. It rushes at her finger and she stops reaching forward. Immediately the soccer-ball sized sphere goes about revolving around the human sun.

Sally goes to the first sphere and reaches out to touch it. The sphere is quick to come to her. She touches its surface and waves spread out from where she comes into contact with it. The waves hit each other on the other side and come back to the front and hits more waves coming from her fingers touching the baseball sized sphere. Soon its entire surface is rippling.

She feels herself being sucked forward and delves into her earliest of memories.

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Norman walked out of the waiting room's rest room. He couldn't help smirking as he walked back to the others. The bathroom had smelled like the insides of a dead animal that has been left on the side of the road to rot in the hundred degree weather. Or, rather, it smelled like the flushed fecal matter of a man who appeared to weigh exactly one ton who had passed by just to use the bathroom apparently.

He sat down in his seat that was between Frederick to his right and Charles to his left. Samuel had gotten up and was walking around with a grim look on his face. Frederick looked equally grim and Charles was apparently still buzzed and didn't really care about whatever had just happened.

Norman flashed Samuel a puzzled look.

"A nurse came out and told us that they weren't sure what had happened to her," Samuel began. "They've done a cat scan and haven't seen anything wrong with her yet. Why were you in there so long?"

"The magic of bowel movements," Norman replied. "Had to deal with that fat guy's stench as well as my own. That was hell. How long have we been here?"

Charles looked out at the rising sun and replied.

"A good four hours. Feels more like four fucking days."

"Has Harry woken up yet?" Norman asked.

Samuel slapped his forehead. "Shit I forgot all about that fat son of a bitch. He's still passed out I think. I'll go get the fucker up."

"No," Norman said. "I'll do it. If I don't get out of here soon I'm gonna go insane."

Indeed, he couldn't stand the medicinal aroma of the waiting room. Nor could he stand the nearly-a-father man pacing about anymore. Norman got up and opened the glass double doors. He was greeted by sweet morning air. A small patch of grass to his left was glistening with dew, birds were singing in the distance, and the sky had that slightly dreamlike quality to it.

He walked down the wheelchair incline rather than the four stairs and let his hand swipe up dew from the railing. He finally realized just how tired he was. The sun's early glare was making his eyes feel heavy. His teeth felt peculiar in that way they always do when he doesn't get them brushed the night before. His nasal passage felt slightly in pain like he had inhaled water somehow.

He marched across the slightly full, rectangular, and small parking lot to their car. He noticed they had not closed the passenger door. He hoped to God that no one had stolen something.

He crawled into the passenger seat and sat back against the head rest. His eyes closed and his body threatened to fall asleep. Norman managed to get his eyes open. He looked down at his feet and felt the need to puke rise to an almost unbearable level. Half of Sally's tongue was lying on the floor.

"Alright Harold," he muttered. "Wakey, wake-"

He looked into the back seat and straight into Harry's glazed glare. Norman knew immediately that something was wrong. He threw himself out of the still-open door and fell onto the parking lot.

He got to his feet and stared at Harry in the back seat. He was laughing. No, something was laughing, but it wasn't Harry.

"Jesus Christ."

The thing possessing Harry suddenly kicked the back door straight off of its hinges. The door clattered to the ground with a louder than expected crash!

"Holy shit!" Norman shouted and scrambled to his feet. The thing was out of the car and rushing at him faster than any fat person's ever ran before and body-slammed him in the back. Norman went sprawling onto the pavement. "HARRY!"

The thing was on top of his back and was screeching at him. Norman couldn't roll over; Harry weighed way too much. Norman gave out a choked yell, and then he felt pain explode in the back of his head. His face slammed into the ground and he felt warm blood start trickling out of his nostrils. The thing had punched him.

Suddenly the weight was off of him and he heard someone shouting. It was Samuel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Harry?" Samuel screamed. Norman rolled onto his back and sat up. Samuel had the thing pinned to the ground.

"It's not Harry!"

Samuel's head spun to look at him. "What did you say?"

"That thing is not Harry, Sam!"

Then the thing swung its fist out and slammed Samuel on the side of the head. Samuel rolled off of it and it was up in a second. Then it was after Samuel.

Norman stood up and ran after what used to Harry. He grabbed its arms and started pulling it back. It was stronger than him, though, and broke free before Norman pulled him back two steps. It then rounded on him and punched him right on the chin. Norman screamed in pain and surprise. He wondered if his chin was broken.

It was back on him and was about to punch him right on the forehead and probably kill him when suddenly it was hit on the head with a hammer. It screeched and grabbed at its head. Norman realized at that point that Harry was dead. If Harry had been alive, the wound would've been leaking some blood.

The hammer hit it again, harder this time, and that drove it off of Norman. The hammer came down twice more as it rushed at the possessor of the hammer and its skull collapsed. It flopped to the ground lifelessly.

Norman, at a loss for words, stood up and looked at his savior. It was the nearly-a-father man. He looked a little confused.

"Y-Y-You'll back me up on this being self-defense, r-r-r-right?" the man's voice quivered as he said this.

"Yeah," Norman replied, feeling as though he would kiss the man in his glee. "I will."

"HARRY!" Frederick shouted from behind Norman. Norman spun and saw Frederick staring at Harry's dead body with a pale face and a sad look. "You fucking killed him!"

Norman grabbed Frederick as he rushed forward and kept him from the body. "He was already dead Fred. He was trying to kill us."

Norman felt tears rising up in himself. It had just hit him that Harry was dead. Frederick was pissed and looked about to kill the man who had saved Norman and Samuel.

Just when things seemed about to slow down, it got back up. What was left of its face was a ragged mess, and its brain was obviously fucked, but it was still coming.

It ran for the man with the hammer and Norman cut it off. He wasn't about to let this bystander get killed on the same day that he was going to get a son. Norman wrestled it to the ground, not caring about the fact that he would lose the battle.

He tried as hard as possible to dodge its fists, and was for the most part successful.

Samuel had tried to pry them apart. His reward was a black eye from this thing that had control of Harry's body.

(gonna get'cha!)

Norman's eyes went wide. He had forgotten all about that incident.

(gonna get'cha!)

They were suddenly rolling down a hill. Norman's ankle was obliterated after it slammed into a large rock protruding from the ground. They reached the bottom of the hill and Norman could feel stings from countless cuts covering him. He could see that it had cuts all over it as well.

Norman rolled off of it and gasped for air. He realized that they were on a road now. Cars were zooming by. One swerved to avoid him and honked its horn. Then it was on his back and had his hair in its pudgy hand. Norman felt it pushing down on his head, trying to smash him into the road. He forced his head back up and managed to get his arms to push him up off of the road.

It fell off of his back and Norman got up. He was bathed in white light now. He looked down the road and saw a semi-truck barreling towards them with its headlights on (the morning light was still too weak to be trusted entirely). It was braking, but it wouldn't come to a stop soon enough.

"Oh, FUCK!" Norman threw himself out of the way in the nick of time and only heard what happened as he fell to the moist ground.

He heard the splatter of blood and the screaming of the semi's brakes. He looked back and saw the semi stop. In its wake was a great deal of blood that trailed all the way up to its front from a good twenty feet behind its back. He heard as the driver got out of the semi-truck on the other side that he couldn't see.

Norman looked at the side of the semi and saw what the semi-truck was transporting and couldn't help but smile. Norman had always found the prospect of vegetarian meat hilarious, and that's what the semi had in its back.

Norman got to his knees and watched the driver come around to the other side of the truck. The driver opened the passenger side door and opened it. Norman assumed that the driver was calling the cops or something.

Norman was about to go over and inspect the body of what used to be his friend when he stopped cold and the blood drained from his face to be replaced by disbelief and horror.

It was still alive. It was only two legs, half a stomach, and an arm, but it was still alive, and it was still coming for him.

Norman spun around and bolted up the hill, ignoring the extreme pain in his shattered ankle.

When he reached the top he saw Sally standing in the middle of the parking lot with Frederick, Samuel, and Charles was getting into the car. The man (who Sally had identified as Bob) had gone back into the hospital. Frederick, Samuel, and Sally all looked as if they had been waiting for him. Charles looked left out of the loop.

"We have to go," Sally stated. Norman didn't notice that her tongue was back.

Norman knew that they did, he could see that they all knew. Norman suddenly knew that He was a lot worse than they had all thought, and that He was after them.

"Yeah," he replied. "Yes I suppose we should."

He limped over to them, keeping his weight off of his broken right ankle. He wondered how Sally had gotten out of the emergency room, but found that he didn't really care how.

He got into the back seat of the car with Frederick and Charles-slightly relieved that Harry wouldn't be riding with them again-and Samuel started the car. Sally sat down in the passenger seat.

Norman suddenly knew, along with the others, that her real name was Sally and not Vernita. He didn't know how he knew, he just did.

"Where are we going to go?" Frederick asked.

Sally looked back at him. "As far away from Him as possible."

The car then drove out of the parking lot and merged with the traffic headed north as Harry's dead body crashed up the hill in pursuit.


Hey, MorbidMan here. The next chapter will explain what happened with Sally after she touched the sphere and how she got out of the hospital. It'll also explain how Harold died and jut a little of what He is. Of course you won't fully understand what He is until near the last chapter (I hope to make a good 30-40 chapters for this story). There'll be fifteen chapters dedicated to the chamber that Sally was in during this chapter. I've put my other stories on hold to write this one, but there'll be updates on them soon enough. The day after I write this I hope to update "Tanya & Harold" (I think that's the worst overall story I've written on this site, but the reviewers seem to like it), which I haven't done in over a month.

My mind's buzzing with ideas for this story and I think that most could be spotted in high-budget main-stream Hollywood movies, but I hope you'll enjoy the ideas I include. And the reason that they all sort of don't care about Harold's passing is that the adrenaline rush and action is preventing them from really sitting down and thinking much about it.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and enjoy this story. So review it!

"If you're going to kill someone then do it. Don't stand around talking about it." - Anna "Van Helsing"