Demons are People Too

Six

My eyes snapped open. If I'd been in a cartoon, they may well have rattled like roller blinds before my mouth gaped and my tongue lolled to the floor, tripping up a passing doctor or porter. I couldn't just get an empty bed, could I? Make a quiet getaway? Nope. The real occupant of my bed must have gone for a pre-op toilet break or nerve-easing cigarette. I'd give him something to smoke about! Give me a few years - or hours, if the surgeon's scalpel were to slip.

Hands were on me, helping me up. I couldn't protest in case I was discovered so had to comply. I looked at the porter and smiled. He must have noticed the pained look in my eyes and mistook it for nerves. I wasn't nervous in the slightest. I was frustrated that at every turn obstacles were being put in my way. If I didn't know better, I'd be sure it was a deliberate act. Was Him upstairs trying to stop me? Was Dave as unlucky as he was boring? I didn't know but I had to find a way to turn the tide in my favour. I wasn't King Midas (though I knew him - he was so full of himself the sea would have stopped for him but it didn't like his arrogance) but I couldn't go on like this. I'd never get the job done and prove myself.

"Don't worry, mate," he said calmly. "In a few hours you'll be sitting up with your appendix in a jar beside you. You can take it home as a souvenir."

The appendix. Once thought to be a useless bit of dangly tissue in the human gut, though decidedly tasty to a demon, research was beginning to suggest it was a nice little getaway for bacteria when the human body fought off disease. Yup, bet you didn't think you'd get a biology lesson, did you? Well, demons aren't all stupid grunts just wanting to kill all mortals. Well, most are. Not necessarily stupid but the mortal and killing bit, yes. We need to understand what goes on inside you lot if we need to possess you. You have the weirdest and most disturbing bodily functions and desires...

<Shudder>

I thought. What I thought about, I don't remember. It should have been of escape but my mind seemed to have already done that and made off with my senses, perhaps in a large black sack labelled 'SWAG'. I hoped there'd be an identity check before first incision. They didn't want to remove my appendix when I was actually in for a nose job. My appendix was fine and I didn't care about my nose. It was there in the centre of my face. It had two nostrils (how restrictive) and worked just fine. For a human nose.

"Can I just nip to the loo?" I asked.

The porter sighed and looked at his watch.

"You're the third one today whose nerves haven't gotten the better of them. You'll be fine, honest."

"I know," I said. "But this is my first surgery. I can't help it. I can go on my own"

I wasn't lying. Dave - the other one - might have been a serial operationee, or whatever the word is, going under the knife on a weekly basis. I hadn't. In Hell, there's no such thing as surgery, not the hospitalised kind anyway. Scalpels are used for fun. And pain, depending on your point of view.

"Fine," said the porter. We were at the lifts and he pulled a magazine out of his back pocket. "I'll wait here. It's only around that corner."

I thanked him and hurried off in the direction he indicated. I hid for a moment, waiting for him to start reading and then darted down another corridor. My dizziness was slowing me slightly, but I grabbed it with both mental hands and used it to spur me on. On my way along winding halls, with no sense as to my direction, I passed a door labelled 'Laundry'. Not wanting to tempt Fate ('cos she's known for hating temptation and throwing it back in your face like a giant custard pie), I didn't count my chickens before they'd been turned in finger licking food. I checked the door. It would be locked, wouldn't it? It wasn't. I opened it slowly. Someone would be coming through from the other side, wouldn't they? There was no-one to be seen. Surely somebody would walk in as I was rifling through the clothes hung on railings. They were hospital scrubs in the main but I wasn't fussy. If I were to find my way out of the hospital and back to that girl's house, I needed to do so without exposing my true identity or my bum.

Finally. Puling on the closest fitting set of garments, I peered out of the door. PC Davidson hurried by, accompanied by a man in a suit with a official looking nametag attached to a lanyard. I gave them time to distance themselves from me and quickly exited the room, walking in the opposite direction and hunting for the 'Way Out' sign. And there it was! Things were going too well. At any point either the office or porter would spy me and I'd be dragged back to the room or the operating theatre.

But they didn't. The hospital reception was only a few metres away. I could feel the air from outside as they opened automatically to let people in or out.

And then I was through. I stood for a moment, taking a deep breath. As much as I hated being up there, it felt good to be in the open.

"Hey!"

Damn. It had lasted well, my run of good luck. I turned, ready to face my accuser. Fight if necessary. A young man ran past me, not even noticing me. He banged on the roof of a taxi which had just dropped someone off and was pulling away. It stopped.

"Sorry mate! You available?"

A nod. The man climbed in and spoke to the taxi driver who drove off. Apart from the smokers and a line of people at the car park pay meter, there was nobody to stop me. I couldn't help but smile. I turned and ran along the edge of the building towards the road, my nausea fading with the increased hope. The road was busy with cars speeding in both directions. I thought of flagging one down. Convincing the driver to take me where I needed to go or drag him out and steal his car. No. I had to play safe. I had to get there in one piece with no more distractions.

I sniffed the air. Left.

I walked quickly, knowing my clothes and bare feet would draw attention. If anyone looked like they were running away from something, it was me. I dipped into an alley between some houses and moved along the back of them, looking for clothes hanging from a line. There were three. Two were full of children's' clothes and one had the occupants voices coming from just inside the door. The third had adult clothes. I slipped in and pulled them from the line, working as quickly and silently as I could. A t-shirt and jeans were my first stop. The top stretched over my stomach, threatening to split if I breathed in too sharply. I couldn't get my foot into the far too tight jeans.

Oh, come on. Really? I had a choice. Hospital scrubs or black trousers and a loud, floral, definitely feminine shirt. The trousers were baggy and the shirt was loose with an air of exuberant sunshine which seemed to be slapping me in my face. I had to bunch the trousers together and tie a knot to keep them up. The shirt neck was wide enough to hang off my shoulder. I looked at myself in the reflection from the patio doors on the rear of the house. Ridiculous. There was no other word for it. I could see no occasion where a man might need to wear such clothes. Too big and too female. This wasn't fancy dress or even gender reassignment. This was lunacy. This was obvious theft.

But it was better than hospital scrubs. Barely.

I continued along the alley, feeling more absurd with every step. I tried to think ahead to how I might carry out my plan but couldn't. The sudden sound of sirens as I reached the end and stepped back out onto the open pathway sent any thoughts spinning like the blue flashing lights atop the police cars whizzing by. All I could see was the massive wooden door standing open across from me. I ran, entering the building at full speed, tumbling over the first pew.

Pew. Oh no. As I pushed myself up, I realised where I was. The lines of hard wooden seats. The high, vaulted ceiling and the stained glass windows. A demon in a church. Wasn't that blasphemy in itself? Why hadn't I been struck by lightning or spontaneously combusted? I very much doubted Dormouse Dave was so completely unassuming my presence had been missed. It was a very strange feeling. I expected everything I touched to burn me. It didn't. I walked to the front of the church, tapping each of the pews in turn. I stopped to pick up a Bible. I even read some words under my breath. There was no crippling pain or feeling of being turned inside out. I was confused.

I took a seat at the front and stared at the massive crucifix behind the pulpit. Still, my mind wouldn't settle on anything resembling coherent thought.

"Are you ok?"

I looked up.

"Yes, thank you, Father."

I wondered why I didn't feel disgust or hate towards the man. Why his clothes didn't offend me. Why I seemed to feel a grudging respect!

"Call me David," he said.

Of course. What else?