Fever

Aben awakes from feverish sleep for the first time in days. Mouth dry. Eyelids glued shut by gunk. He groans and twists in bed. Sheets wet and sticky with sweat. Has the fever broken?

He rolls onto one side, propping on one elbow. His hand runs between the buttons of his pyjamas. The skin on his chest—leathery, cold. His lungs are tight. But he has stopped coughing.

With groans and wheezes, Aben sits up in bed. World spins. Body shudders. He opens his eyes. It hurts to see. Dust dances in slithers of weak light coming through gaps in the curtains. Slow. Jerky.

His mind drifts back to his dreams. He has many nights worth of them… Barbecue. Laughter and smell of grilled onions and sausages. Smiling faces lit by colourful lightbulbs in an evening garden.

Aben sighs softly. He must have turned the corner. Cough—gone. Fever—broken. But his mouth tastes like decay. His throat is a rough walnut in the neck. He needs to hydrate.

He slips out of bed but knees buckle. A trembling hand reaches for the bed frame. Straining all limbs, he manages to stand. The room floats around him.

Groping for support, Aben steps onto the landing. Stairs quiet and dark. The air—stale and cold.

“Dana? Vita?” He calls his wife and daughter. The call is quiet, laced with pain and exhaustion. Holding on to the handrail, Aben descends the creaking steps.

He has to go through the living room to the kitchen. He stops in the middle of it. Gasping. Joints aching. How long has he been out?

Aben scans the room. It seems alien. Objects oscillate in thousands of overlapping images. They have a faint glow and the colours are off. Did the long sleep damage his eyes?

He lays a hand on a sideboard for support. Fingers scuff in a thick layer of dust. Why is no one here? Aben closes his eyes, his dreams of Dana replay before him. White skin. Freckles. She is soft and curvy, straddling him in bed. His hands are on her hips. Dana is warm. She leans over and kisses him. Her lips are bright red. Aben feels the taste of lipstick as his tongue gently touches her mouth. Her curly long hair is loose. Tickles his shoulders and chest.

Water… he needs water. Aben turns and heads for the kitchen. Why does their red carpet look grey? Hands on the doorframe for support, he stops.

Something is wrong… Rotten smell. Buzzing. His legs are cast in lead but he steps into the kitchen. “Dana? Vita?”

The stench makes him sick. He can’t vomit. He is squeezed dry by illness. Aben just stands in the kitchen. Surrounded by flies. In the sink—piled plates with rotting food. A dripping tap.

“Where are you, girls?” He croaks. His heart starts to flutter in his chest. Weak, drained from the fever, his lungs devastated by cough.

Aben staggers back through the living room, knocking down a bowl. Small grains rain down on the floor. Why do they have a dish with grains?

He spills out of the house. The sun is faint, dimmed through a grey filter. In the morning cold, Aben shudders in his wet pyjamas. His jerky gaze darts. The street is empty. The houses stand tall, layering over each other like pieces of a scattered puzzle. Where is his family? Where is everyone?

Aben looks around, turning on his shaky legs. Struggling to stay upright. He walks down the street. It feels like rubber under his bare soles.

His body protests. His neck is strained under the huge weight of his head. Each blink of his eyes takes him back to his fever dreams. Vita… playing in a sandpit. Her blond hair glows in the sun and looks like it flows into the golden sand. She sees him and drops her shovel and bucket. Runs. Big smile, small teeth with tiny gaps between them. She throws herself at him and hugs him and presses her cheek against his. Hers is smooth and soft and chubby.

Aben breaks into a run. Unsteady. He tries to call them. Voice comes out choked, hacked. He must find them. He must find someone.

The coffee shop! Aben remembers the coffee shop down the street. Someone must be there. Someone must tell him where Dana and Vita are. He speeds up. Zigzagging on the rubber street.

The coffee shop is there. Same fragmented and overlapping vision as the houses. The door seems larger and the red neon sign above it is grey and jagged.

Aben summons all the strength of his drained body. Steps towards the door. Inaudible chatter from inside. He sees nothing through the windows fogged with morning mist. He scurries towards the entrance. Crashes against the metal bar across the frame of the leaf.

Door opens. A little bell chimes. Aben staggers inside.

First comes the smell. Dry, earthy and warm. The light is bright. Hurting.

Aben steadies himself, leaning on the backrest of a booth. He blinks. Tilts his head to the side. Blinks in rapid succession.

When he opens his eyes again and looks inside, his heart explodes into millions of ice ants that crawl all over his body. The ice ants pinch his skin with tiny ice claws. The walnut in his neck pulses. He recoils and opens his mouth to scream. A choked groan escapes his lips.

Everyone is staring at him. Huge eyes. Glowing. Glitzy. Their leathery beige skins turn to scales from their necks up. Instead of mouths, these things have crooked, rugged beaks and on top of the beaks they have snouts like pigs. Their heads are hairless and shiny and they have antlers like deers.

“Aben!” One of them shrieks. Not a human call. A blood-freezing caw. The thing calling him is sat behind a table, its beak just rising from a bowl of grain. It stands and walks around the table.

Aben staggers back, his back pushing the door. “Stay away!” He creaks. Voice breaking like gravel in a stone crusher. More things rise and approach. Cawing. Raising their arms towards him.

Aben turns and tries to leave. An invisible force pulls his head. “Aben”, something caws as he slams on his back over the door threshold. His kidneys groan. But he must get away. He must find Dana and Vita. 

 Things hover over him. “Get him inside… quick”, the caws become comprehensible. Arms reach down. Grab his wet pyjamas. “No”, he moans. Kicks. Flails his arms and twists like a worm. But they lift him. Carry him inside. “Place him on a bench, come on!”

Aben is pinned down. A thing looms over him. An invisible force holds his head still. He fights. Strains his drenched muscles. Small beads of sweat bubble on his forehead. The last drops of water in his body. “What did you do to them? Where are my wife and daughter?” He groans and twists.

“Aben”, the thing caws. “Aben, stop! Calm down!”

Something cool and wet is placed on his forehead by a thing’s hands. Aben feels thin streaks of water coming down on his sides. He closes his eyes. Dana and Vita flash before him. Both in summer dresses, drenched in the sun on a beach. Playing throwing grapes into each other’s mouths.

Aben moans. Strains his muscles again. They don’t move. He exhales. His lungs puff out dust and the smell of rot. He looks up. The thing is still over him. Huge eyes. Black and slick with a glow. He sees a reflection in them. Alien and jagged.

A jug is brought to his mouth. A small amount of water is poured into him. Cool and wet, it flows past the walnut. Aben feels it spreading across his parched body. He wants more. Tilts his head towards the spout of the jug. He hears it clatter. Why does the jug clatter on his mouth?

“Okay”, the thing over him caws. “He’s okay. Give him space!” Aben keeps looking into the thing’s glitzy eyes. He sees the puzzle pieces of his reflection come into a shape. Neck… Head… On the head—antlers. His eyes—big and slick. Face covered in scales. A rugged beak in the centre and a snout over it.

Aben gasps. Rolls over and crawls on elbows and heels towards the end of the booth. “Stay away from me! This isn’t real! What did you do to them?” He screams and curls up. He shakes his head. His antlers clatter against the window behind him.

“Why does he talk like that?” A thing caws.

“It’s the dehydration”, the one that had been looming over him caws. It turns back towards Aben. “It’s okay, Aben. You’re okay… You’ve just been sick… You were sick for a long time. But now you’re okay.” The thing approaches slowly. Knees on the booth bench. Shifting towards him. An arm extended.

“What did you do to my wife and child?” Aben cries. He closes his eyes, seeking the beach memory from his fever dreams.

“You don’t have a wife and a child, Aben. You live alone. Down the road”, the thing says. But Aben sees them in his mind. Glowing. Beautiful and smiling. “Aben, that’s the fever. You’re safe. We are your friends, neighbours.”

Inside himself, Aben reaches to Dana and Vita. Sees his leathery hand stretching out towards them. He wants to hug them. Kiss his wife’s rosy lips and press his side on his daughter’s chubby soft cheek.

“Aben”, he hears the thing calls again. A hand is placed on his shoulder. But he wants to keep his eyes closed forever.

Aben’s fingers graze Vita’s blond hairs but they disintegrate into sand. Dana’s freckles turn into small bubbles of foam and lift off her face and merge with the ocean waves. Aben wants to hold on to them. But his hands fill with the sand that is his daughter. Vita seeps through his fingers and disperses into the foam that is her mother and his pain and love dissolve in them and they disappear with the receding ocean waves.

Aben cries out, opens his eyes. Looks at his friend’s face. His eyes smile. He looks at the beak. It’s motionless. A beak doesn’t smile.

“How long have I been out?” Aben hears himself caw.

“Almost a week, brother! But you look better now! You must be starving!” Aben’s friend tilts his head, locking their antlers. “Hey, what was that about a wife and daughter?”

“No idea”, Aben caws. His gaze wanders around the coffee shop. A pretty waitress with small, golden antlers carries a bowl of grains.

His stomach roars.