Maja’s chest burned, and her throat stung with every back arching cough. She clutched the crucifix tightly that dangled from the chain around her neck, the edges digging deep into the flesh of her palm. The darkened room was a blur through her watering eyes. She heard her bedroom door open as she gasped between coughing fits. The foggy outline of her father reached out and flicked the light switch. He had forgotten it was blackout day. He made his way over to her bedside and steadied her as he brought firm slaps down between her shoulder blades. She hated when he did that. The coughing began to ease, eventually subsiding. Maja’s father held her close.

‘I’m worried Maja. We’ll go to the practitioner in the morning,’ he said.

‘I’m scared papa,’ said Maja.

‘I know, Puppy. But you’re sick. You’re not showing any symptoms that they are looking for. Just keep your crucifix with you and you’ll be fine.’

Maja drifted into a warm sleep in her father’s embrace and he delicately laid her onto her bed, and tucked her in. He left the room with a weight in his chest and fear of what tomorrow might bring.

#

Maja had slept most of the rest of the night, only waking once from a sweaty nightmare. She sat at the breakfast table as her father prepared their rations for the morning. She watched him earnestly measure the oats before spilling them into the pan of water. The blackout was ceased and so he brought the water to the boil on their single hotplate, plugged into one of their two functioning outlets. He hummed to himself as he washed two bowls and two spoons in the cold water he’d poured into the sink from the pail. Maja knew that her father was trying to lift the mood before they visited the practitioner. He, in fact, had promised her a treat. When the porridge had soaked up the water and thickened sufficiently, Maja’s father scooped it from the pan into the bowls, leaving none to waste. With a smile he presented one of the small bowl’s to Maja and revealed a tiny honey pot from behind his back. Maja coughed into her hand weakly and smiled wide-eyed with excitement. Her father took a teaspoon and poured a measure of honey onto it with great care and let it drizzle onto the top of the porridge. Maja watched every action with intense focus. She watched the honey flow from the spoon’s edge and the sweep of her father’s deft movements. He made a honey smiley face. Maja giggled at her father’s silly antics and greedily spooned the porridge into her mouth. She was careful to eat from beneath the surface layer first--blowing hard on her spoon to cool it down--so as to leave the thin coating of honey for her final mouthfuls. This was the best morning. Maja almost forgot about the visit to the practitioner.

After breakfast her father inspected Maja’s mouth and they left the apartment around seven. He bolted the door closed and locked it with a padlock. The sun was firmly established in the morning sky splashing its clean light onto their faces. Maja watched her breath turning into fog. Her father had wrapped her scarf a little too tightly but she wouldn’t complain. They walked down the flight of metal steps. She sometimes got a little dizzy if she looked at the ground through the holes in the steps, but not today. She held onto two fingers on his large hand and they crossed the tarmacadam courtyard leaving footprints in the sporadic snow covering. They reached the arch leading onto the road and passed beneath. Her father wasn’t yet of high enough rank in The Orthodoxy to have his own car so they would have to walk to the nearest tram stop which was two kilometres from here.

Maja’s hat began to slip over her eyes and she fumbled it back up through her woollen mittens. Her father picked her up when the footpath ended and held her to his chest. Maja watched over his shoulder as their apartment block bounced and began to shrink behind them with each step. Half of the building was scorched black from fire, and the other half was in various stages of disrepair.

Maja coughed and her father patted her back more gently than the night before.

‘There, there Maja. You’ll be all better soon,’ he said.

She closed her eyes, wrapped her hands around the nape of his neck, and buried her face into his shoulder. Maja enjoyed the rhythm of her father’s long strides. She imagined she was being carried across landscapes by a giant. Being taken away from the cold, and the dark. She could see the city walls pass beneath as the giant took one effortless stride into the unknown. Below, wispy clouds flittered by. She saw the shanty towns, then scorched earth for many strides, and then green. Lots of green. Forests. Hills. And a burst of deep blue: water. Maja had never seen the sea. It went on-and-on forever, and ever, and ever, and...

‘Here we are,’ her father said.

He lowered her to the ground and righted her hat. They were the only people at the tram stop. The light stung Maja’s eyes as she crawled back from the edges of sleep. She looked up at her father in his bland uniform. All straight edges and pastel browns. They had a story night once a week where he told her how the world used to be. Before she was born he had been a lecturer in a university. He had taught many students chemistry. His face lit up when he talked about his old work. Now, he was what he called ‘a bureaucrat’. His job with The Orthodoxy was to process applications for entry to the city. Maja couldn’t grasp why everyone wasn’t just allowed into the city. Her father had told her that a great sickness had nearly destroyed the world and that it was over now, but they still had to be sure people entering the city were not ill.

‘Do I have the sickness papa?’, Maja had asked him one story night.

Her father had paused and looked at her thoughtfully.

‘And why would you ask such a thing Maja?’

‘You check my mouth a lot. And it’s dangerous if I don’t wear my cross,’ she said.

Her father had smiled sadly and embraced her.

‘My little genius. You’ll be a scientist just like your papa,’ he said through choked breaths.

Maja could hear electricity whip through the lines above meaning the tram was approaching. She took her father’s hand once more and watched the rickety tram trundle towards them. It eased to a stop and the doors squeaked open.

‘Good morning Brother Viktor,’ said the tram operator glancing briefly at Maja.

Viktor returned the greeting and he and Maja boarded the tram. They walked half way down the aisle to the first available empty seats. Maja sat beside the window. She loved to watch the city pass-by. The tram began to move, swaying and jittering, gradually building to its cruising speed. It weaved a circuitous route through the decaying suburbs as it found its way into the city proper. The residential buildings and their streets gave way to larger structures, indicative of a time passed. The tram trundled on and the buildings reached ever higher towards the sky. Like decaying, yellowed teeth inside the gaping mouth of a fallen giant the cragged edifices etched sharp, jagged lines against the sky and each other. The tram and its passengers, now in the shadows of the broken concrete and glass teeth, slowed as it approached the next terminal, before creaking to a start again.

Viktor and Maja alighted at the stop closest to the practitioner’s, in a wide street. Maja walked alongside her father. They passed a queue at a food bank that stretched around the block. Viktor received rations just like everyone else but because he worked for The Orthodoxy he didn’t have to queue in the cold like those poor souls. Many in the queue looked up at Viktor from downward facing heads. Their contempt was only tempered by their fear. A man with red hair looked over the heads of the others queuing and watched Viktor and Maja pass-by. When they were a safe distance away he spat in one of Viktor’s footprints.

The practitioner’s office stood tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac. Viktor pressed the intercom, stating his name and employee number, and a few seconds later the door was buzzed open. The building inside was sterile in appearance and smell. The pale green walls were bordered at the bottom with a dark green that stopped just above Maja’s head. Viktor picked Maja up and they ascended the stairs to the third floor. The elevator was not safe to use, like most elevators in the city. At the reception sat a gaunt woman in her sixties. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it had the effect of pulling her face with it. It made her look both younger and more fierce.

‘Good morning Brother Viktor,’ she said eyeing Maja, ‘And who do we have here?’

‘This is my daughter Maja,’ said Viktor still carrying her.

‘Isn’t she a dream?’ asked the receptionist.

‘The best,’ said Viktor.

The receptionist took Maja’s details and Maja and Viktor retired to the waiting area. There were toys strewn in a corner.

‘Papa?’ asked Maja.

‘Yes, go ahead’, smiled Viktor.

The only child in the waiting area, Maja played with the cheap plastic toys. Viktor watched her with a growing sadness. He ran what was going to happen next through his mind. The practitioner would undoubtedly begin the meeting with an oral inspection followed by ritual prayer. This was standard procedure. Then he would move on to the complaint at hand: Maja’s cough. Viktor just had to make sure that the practitioner didn’t try to remove Maja’s crucifix. It was the only silver she had and Viktor wasn’t willing to risk separating them even for the duration of this visit. He didn’t know enough about silver’s halting qualities; he simply didn’t have the resources to investigate it in any meaningful way. When Maja had been born it was clear that she had contracted her mother’s infection. Astrid had lost so much blood during the birth that, perhaps mercifully, she had died before the infection had turned her completely. Viktor had taken Maja and removed the crucifix from around his own neck and placed it around his child’s. She had loosed an inhuman wail upon the silver touching her skin. Viktor wasn’t sure what he had hoped for. He knew that silver often killed the host of the infection. It was the front line in the war against Them, The Orthodoxy championing the crucifix form. However, in that moment he wasn’t sure if he was trying to kill the host or save her. After a night of tumultuous wailing and fever Maja had begun to settle. Her fever lapsed and she cried as only a healthy baby should. Viktor knew then that the silver was keeping the infection at bay, but for how long was anyone’s guess.

A middle aged man in work clothes exited the practitioner’s office holding his right arm with his left hand, head bowed, and lips moving silently. He made his way past the waiting area towards reception. The practitioner stood framed by the doorway of his office with his form mostly concealed by floor-length dark robes, hands tucked in opposing sleeves, and nodded to Viktor.

‘I’m ready for you,’ he said.

Viktor removed the faded plastic toy from Maja’s small hands and lifted her into his arms. He followed the practitioner into the office.

‘Place her on the gurney,’ he said.

Viktor did as he was instructed and bent down to meet Maja’s eyes.

‘You do as the Father tells you now, okay Puppy?’ he said.

Maja nodded. The practitioner pulled the chords of his robes tight and approached her.

‘Open your mouth wide dear,’ he said.

‘Papa?’ said Maja looking at Viktor wide-eyed.

‘It’s okay Maja,’ he said.

Maja opened her mouth a sliver. The practitioner roughly pushed his fingers against her upper and lower rows of teeth and pried her mouth open as far as he could. Maja groaned in discomfort.

‘There-there, little one,’ said the practitioner.

He ducked and bobbed his head as he scanned her teeth and put pressure on individual teeth, pinching them between finger and thumb, shaking Maja’s head in the process.

‘Everything seems to be in order,’ he said and freed Maja’s jaw.

Maja rubbed her cheeks meekly.

The practitioner turned to his desk and collected a silver receptacle, stood in front of Maja and splashed the holy water within onto Maja’s face as he recited a prayer in Latin. Once the ritual prayer was completed he returned to his desk, and tossed a towel to Viktor. Maja’s face and hair were sodden and her father diligently mopped her head dry, smiling at her as he rubbed her cheeks.

‘Thank you Father,’ said Viktor.

The practitioner closed his eyes and nodded.

‘So what seems to be the problem?’ he asked.

‘Maja has had a cough for over two weeks now and there’s no sign of it improving. It keeps her awake most nights,’ said Viktor.

‘I see. Let’s begin by checking her lungs,’ said the practitioner.

He produced a stethoscope from inside his robes, blew on the chest-piece and placed it on Maja’s back.

‘Take a deep breath little one,’ he said.

Maja took a deep breath which was interrupted by a coughing fit. The practitioner repeated the instruction as he listened to both lungs from different locations on Maja’s back. He repeated the process listening to her chest, and as he did so he lifted the crucifix in his free hand, turning it idly in his fingers. Viktor moved uncomfortably behind him, forcing himself to bite his tongue. The practitioner removed the eartips and turned to Viktor.

‘She may have a simple chest infection. We’re low on antibiotics, at least those that still work, as I’m sure you’re aware, so considering the lack of severity I’m going to prescribe prayer for Maja.’

Viktor had feared this recommendation.

‘I don’t mean to question the prescription Father, but I’m concerned for Maja. The cough has been getting worse. There was blood on her pillow just two mornings ago,’ he said.

Maja sat quietly watching the exchange.

‘And has there been any sign of blood since?’ asked the practitioner.

‘No Father, but considering the circumstances of where we live and...’ began Viktor.

‘I stand by my diagnosis Brother Viktor,’ he said firmly.

‘Couldn’t you see your way to referring her for a chest scan?’ said Viktor.

The practitioner guffawed.

‘You know very well there’s only one such machine in operation in the city, and recently so. We exclusively refer high priority cases Viktor. Now come, you’re a concerned parent who wants the best for his child, but you mustn’t let that cloud your judgement,’ he said.

Viktor looked to Maja who stared back up at him unsure what was happening.

‘Please Father. You know me. You know I’m a faithful disciple of The Orthodoxy. I wouldn’t normally ask but I’m afraid my prayers aren’t working,’ he said.

‘Perhaps you’re not praying hard enough. Perhaps you lack conviction, Viktor,’ said the practitioner.

‘Please, Father. Maja does not deserve to suffer for my failings,’ begged Viktor.

The practitioner eyed Viktor for a moment. He glanced to where Maja was sitting quietly on the edge of the gurney, her feet dangling above the floor. He closed his eyes and sighed.

‘Very well, Viktor. I’ll schedule you for an appointment. I’m only doing this because you work for The Orthodoxy. We must look after our own so we can effectively tend our flock,’ said the practitioner.

‘Thank you Father,’ said Viktor shaking the practitioner’s hand vigorously.

‘I request a favour in return, if that’s not too much trouble?’ continued the practitioner.

Viktor’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments.

‘I have some family inside the quarantine zone to the west of the city. They’re bogged down in the vetting process. You know how bureaucratic things have become. After all, there hasn’t been a case of one of Them for over a year now. I was wondering if you might help fast-track their application?’ smiled the practitioner.

Viktor glanced at Maja, and back to the practitioner.

‘Give me their details and case number, and I’ll do what I can, Father,’ said Viktor.

‘Wonderful, Viktor. They shall be delighted to hear that,’ smiled the practitioner.

#

Maja had her hands pressed against her ears just as her father had told her to do. As they walked along the footpath away from the clinic Viktor ranted and swore to himself, his face reddening as he did so. Once they turned the block Viktor stopped and bent towards his daughter and guided her hands away from her head.

‘Thank you, Puppy, I feel much better now,’ he said.

Viktor once again lifted Maja and continued the walk back to the tram, passing the food queue that had grown in size. The red-headed man watched them once more.

#

Viktor’s mind felt heavy and sluggish. Maja’s coughing had woken him again in the night. He had managed to sleep for two hours, after an hour wrestling his racing anxiety. He readied porridge, without honey, and carried his exhausted daughter to the kitchen counter. They ate together in silence. Viktor stacked the bowls in the empty sink and carried Maja back to her bed.

‘Okay Puppy, I’ve got to get going. Remember the rule?’ Viktor said.

‘Be as quiet as a mouse if someone comes to the door, papa,’ said Maja dreamily.

‘Good girl. I’ll be home before you can say lickety-split,’ Viktor said and kissed her on the forehead.

Viktor left and padlocked the flat door.

Maja slept uneasily. A fever was beginning to take hold. She dreamed of being paralysed, her legs not following her instruction to move. They gave feeble twitches as she clung to the side of a tree, listening to the rapid advances of those that sought to take her. Maja groaned in her sleep, as she cried out in her dream.

#

Viktor sat staring at his manual typewriter, the thick application folder for the family of the practitioner resting on the keys. His office was tucked away in a repurposed storeroom at the back of his floor. He was rarely bothered by management; he was thorough and efficient. There was an expectation of ruthless decision-making in his role and Viktor had condemned many more to a continued existence beyond the wall than the relative few he had granted permission to enter the city. In the beginning he had understood the job was necessary, if heartless. He, better than most, knew what was at stake. When still a lecturer, a colleague, upon returning from a research trip, had described to him in grim detail what was happening in central South America. The heat and humidity had allowed the plague to incubate and thrive. It began with wild dogs rotting in the streets, followed by livestock found dead in the fields. Then the street children disappeared from the light. Many had assumed the latter was due to a crackdown by local government.

‘There’s nothing like a filthy, hungry child to ruin the day of a wealthy Westerner. No one likes to be reminded of the cruelty in the world when on vacation,’ his colleague had scoffed.

The children hadn’t been rehomed, or taken into care. They had moved to the shadows. Locals were attacked at night in their homes and in the open. The street children had turned savage. They bit and clawed at their victims. Some going so far as to tear throats open with their milk-teeth. The victims that didn’t bleed to death became ill. Once medics removed teeth from the wound - there were always teeth left behind, embedded in exposed bloody flesh - they’d sow it closed and fill the patient with antibiotics. But the wounds never properly healed. Infection oozed from the stitching, carrying a smell most foul. The early consensus was that of a superbug akin to MRSA that wouldn’t respond to the most powerful of treatments. It soon became patently clear something much worse was afoot.

Viktor moved the folder, inserted a Decision Form into the typewriter carriage and began typing. The practitioner’s request wasn’t the most unreasonable. His family appeared to meet the criteria for entry, for the most part. Had it been any other application Viktor might have insisted that the eldest be re-evaluated during light hours. He had only been interviewed at dusk, which was a break from protocol. Viktor doubted the man could conceal infection even in poor light but it was details like that that would typically niggle, and eat away at him. Astrid’s face flashed into his mind. He saw her teeth come loose from her gums as she snapped her mouth at him. She choked and spluttered as some of her teeth balanced briefly on her tongue before slipping down her throat. He had watched in horror as her gums bled and something moved inside them, trying to force its way out. Viktor finished typing his observations and recommendations in the appropriate boxes, pulled the form from the carriage and stamped it ‘APPROVED’. Maja’s scan was the following evening.



#

Maja lay on her back staring at the ceiling, watching sunbeams slowly inch across it. Her father was late. He was usually home by now with dinner well underway. The fever sullied her senses and dragged her into a confused half-sleep, her forehead glistening with sweat. Formless shadows melted in Maja’s peripheral vision, across the bland surfaces of her room. Sleep paralyses entombed her as the fever scrambled the signals from the world around her, frothing into a soup of half impressions and fearful instincts. Dread of the unknown maleficent presence tugged her stomach downwards, stretching and pulling her innermost horror into a tight knot of revulsion and raw, queasy unease. Maja tried to scream. She fought her immobility, but her body would not respond. She was captive to delirium.

Viktor felt pain first and foremost. It pulsed, wave after wave, through his skull. It took a few moments of existing as purely a pain receptor before his sense of self and place began to establish a firm footing in reality. His clothes were wet, and vision blurred. He tried to move his hand and found it too ached with a feral, howling pain he was not accustomed to. Where was he? What had happened? Viktor used his elbows and rolled onto his back. Through his unfocused vision he saw the light leaving the sky. Maja! His breathing was laboured. Ribs on his left side were likely broken. Icy rain drops splashed heavy with indifference onto his bloodied face. An image of enraged bloodshot eyes flashed before him. There had been a man. He’d tried to engage in conversation with Viktor. Said he just wanted to talk to him about The Orthodoxy. How he could get a position with them. Viktor had tried to explain that he didn’t have time to talk, that he needed to go home to tend to his sick child. The man had flown into a rage, ranting about class, and hierarchy, and what about his son? Where had Viktor been when he’d needed help? Viktor had tried to leave. The red-haired man struck Viktor on the back of the head with something hard and blunt. Viktor stumbled onto his knees and hands, and the man dragged him by the collar down an alley and beat him ferociously; all the anger, and frustration breaching the dam and crashing onto the manifest Orthodoxy below.

Viktor had ebbed in-and-out of consciousness since the attack but finally seemed to have a tether in the now. He was too injured to make his escape, and lay in the alley wheezing. The rain washed the light from his face and his surroundings. Shadows stretched and were swallowed by the advancing dark. Viktor couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had transitioned from day to night but he now lay in the shapeless black alley.

‘Hehlp..,’ rasped Viktor, his breath too weak to amplify his call.

He mustered what strength he could and managed to prop himself onto his right elbow.

‘Hehlp..,’ he rasped once more.

Viktor began to cry. This caused his ribs to burn white hot as he gasped for breath between sobs. The pain threatened to overwhelm him. He thought of Maja, alone in the flat, coughing with no one to ease her suffering. Viktor arched his head back, and after a deep sobbing breath let loose a wail:

‘Heehhhhlllppp!’

He collapsed onto his back gasping, his tears devoured by the rain. He was slipping, and was gone.

Viktor awoke to find himself lying on a gurney surrounded by two-toned green walls. The practitioner stood over him holding Viktor’s left eyelid open, shining a light directly into his eye.

‘Welcome back, brother Viktor. I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon again,’ said the practitioner, attempting a smile.

‘How did I..,’ began Viktor.

‘Helga heard your cry,’ said the practitioner.

‘Helga?’ said Viktor.

‘My receptionist, Viktor. We both dragged you back here. It’s lucky she found you when she did,’ said the practitioner.

Viktor tried to sit up on his elbows and fell back hard.

‘Easy Viktor, you’ve taken a severe beating. Broken ribs and a concussion. I’m worried about internal injuries,’ said the practitioner.

Viktor breathed heavily, focusing on the space above the practitioner’s head.

‘I’ve got to get home to Maja,’ he said.

‘She’s alone?’ asked the practitioner.

‘No, my neighbour is caring for her, but she needs her father,’ said Viktor.

‘I’m afraid you’re in no state..,’ began the practitioner.

‘I’m not debating this Father, I’m going home to my daughter. She’s sick, and she needs me. Her scan is tomorrow,’ said Viktor.

‘Her symptoms are worse?’

‘Yes, Father.’

The practitioner eyed him concernedly for a moment and nodded.

‘Very well, brother Viktor, I’ll administer blood coagulants to see you through the night, but keep an eye on those injuries. As I said, they may be internal. Nothing immediately life threatening, but you could have a slow bleed. No pain killers I’m afraid, I need you to know if something is wrong. Get yourself to an emergency medical centre as soon as you can.’

The practitioner helped Viktor to sit up, attached an intravenous drip to his left arm, and offered him a glass of water.

‘Keep this elevated at all times, Viktor, and don’t remove the needle,’ said the practitioner attaching the IV bag to a chrome stand.

They slowly made their way out of the office, Viktor leaning on his IV stand with each step. Helga was sitting in the reception area.

‘Thank you, Helga,’ croaked Viktor.

Helga wore concern around her eyes and smiled back, saying nothing.

Viktor and the practitioner made their way downstairs. Viktor wrapped one arm around the shoulders of the practitioner, and placed both feet on one step at a time before venturing to the next. Once in the unforgiving cold air they made the slow journey across the city to the tram stop. Viktor wheeled the IV stand at his side, no longer using the practitioner as support. Passing the alley where he had taken his beating Viktor stopped for a stride and glanced into the dark, dank emptiness. He fell back into step with the practitioner and they carried on their journey.

‘Okay, Viktor. This is where we part. I mean it Viktor, get your injuries seen to first thing in the morning,’ said the practitioner.

‘I will, Father.’

The practitioner patted him on the back, and turned and left.

Viktor dared not sit on the bench at the stop for fear he would not have the strength to get up again when his tram arrived. He leaned heavily on his chrome IV stand and waited.

The tram rattled to a stop and Viktor opened his eyes, having slipped into an almost fugue state, and reasserted his hold in the reality before him. The driver watched dispassionately as Viktor struggled with the chrome stand and hobbled up and onto the tram. A single passenger sat midway down the aisle, an elderly lady wearing a head scarf and clutching a plastic bag and its contents to her chest. Viktor sat at the foremost seat and the tram doors squeaked closed.

A biting chill from the cracking rubber seals on the doors wrapped its tendrils around his ankles, and caressed any exposed skin. He shivered the entire journey home. The cold, and intense discomfort from his injuries, ensured he didn’t miss his stop.

Viktor disembarked the tram and hobbled the long two kilometre walk home. A few windows glowed in his apartment block but his was not one of them. Viktor’s pace quickened. He dragged the IV stand not giving the wheels enough purchase to turn. He reached the inner courtyard and hurried as best he could towards and up the metal steps. Breathless he arrived at the door to his flat, the lock still in place. He rummaged frantically through his pockets for the key but it was not to be found. That bastard had robbed him of his identity papers too.

‘Maja!’ Viktor shouted.

He knocked on the door hard and called her name again and breathlessly listened for a response. He heard nothing. Viktor took a step backwards and leaned against the small wall and railing. He steadied himself with the IV stand and lifted his good leg and licked hard beneath the lock and bolt. The door rattled in its frame but the lock held true.

‘Maja!’ he shouted again.

Viktor kicked once again and this time he heard splintering of wood. He continued kicking and after the sixth lunge, which seemed to all but snap the latch, he threw his shoulder into the door and crashed through it. He landed face down on the floor. The IV stand toppled with him and lay strewn across his back.

‘Maja.’ he moaned weakly as his breath blew dust and lint from the tile floor back onto his face.

Viktor felt his back dampen and he realised the drip was punctured. He rolled onto his side and pulled the IV needle from his arm and began to crawl to his daughter’s room. The door was ajar and the room smothered in darkness.

Viktor could hear heavy breathing coming from Maja. With considerable effort he pushed himself to his feet and collapsed forward against the edge of her bed.

‘Maja, it’s me Papa. I’m home, I’m home.’

Maja didn’t respond. Viktor touched her face and he was startled by the heat emanating from it. He pulled her towards him and her head lulled backwards, her mouth agape. Drool ran down her cheek as he leaned against the wall. He made his way slowly to the kitchen sink. Once there he grabbed a breakfast bowl from that morning and scooped water from the pale and poured it over Maja’s face. She awoke with a start and wailed, baring her gums and teeth. Viktor winced and stepped backwards, dropping Maja with a sickening thud in the process.

‘Fuck!’ said Viktor dropping to his knees. ‘I’m sorry Maja, you frightened me.’

Maja lay on the cool tiles breathing, and wide-eyed. Viktor searched for a candle. He struck a match against the edge of its container and brought the flame to the wick. The glow from the candle showed Maja lying stiff and staring directly at him, her lips slightly parted.

‘Are you okay Puppy?’ he asked.

He knelt beside her again. He felt her forehead and watched the shadow from his arm cross her small form. It was then he noticed the absence of the crucifix.

‘Where is your cross Maja?’ he said calmly.

Maja stared back unblinking, her chest rising and falling.

Viktor struggled to his feet again and retraced his steps, leaving his daughter on the tiles. He pulled the blanket from her bed but couldn’t see the chain anywhere. Viktor got onto the floor once more and shone the glow of the candle beneath the bed. He sighed with relief.

Maja lay unmoving as Viktor lifted her head forward, tying the chain into a small tight knot. He carried her back to bed and spent the rest of the night mopping her forehead until her temperature receded some. Once she was in a peaceful sleep Viktor lay his head beside her, with one hand on her crucifix, and surrendered to a deep slumber.

#

Viktor slept through most of the following morning. When he did waken, Maja was smiling across from him humming to herself. Viktor reached out and caressed her face with the back of his hand. They gazed at each other, Viktor enjoying the simplicity of the moment, before they finally stirred to prepare for their trip back to the city.

Viktor moved his legs to the edge of the bed and let gravity pull them as he sat upright with some difficulty. He touched his ribs and winced. His breath cycled with a rattle in his throat, but he straightened his back and pushed against the bed as he pushed thoughts of internal damage to the back of his mind.

Maja watched her father make them both a late breakfast. He hobbled around the kitchen with his left hand protecting his left side. Maja noticed bruising and lesions on his face. She absentmindedly touched the place on her cheek corresponding to where the largest lesion was on her father’s, her lips parted slightly. Her father placed the bowls and spoons on the counter-top and shuffled onto his stool, spooning the porridge mechanically into his mouth.

‘Eat-up Maja, we’re pressed for time,’ said Viktor.

Maja stopped staring at her father and did as she was told.

Having crossed the city once more they arrived at their destination: a nondescript two-storey, concrete-mass of a building. Viktor couldn’t carry Maja and so held her hand as she walked by his side. He introduced himself at the reception and reached for his identification papers inside his jacket. Viktor’s heart sank with the recollection that they had been stolen the previous night.

‘Apologies. I seem to have forgotten my papers. May I use your telephone to ring the Practitioner who referred my daughter?’ said Viktor.

The receptionist looked at him for a long moment, considering the request. He reached for the rotary phone to his right and placed it on the counter with a thud and a dull chime of its bell.

‘Make it quick,’ he said.

Viktor rang the Practitioner and explained the situation before handing over to the receptionist who stared at Viktor as the Practitioner spoke.

‘Have a seat, brother Viktor. A lab assistant will be with you shortly.’

Viktor nodded gratefully and took Maja’s hand. He lowered himself awkwardly into the faux-leather covered seats by the elevators. Maja climbed onto the one on his right. He let his head lull backwards and, with his mouth agape, fell into a shallow sleep. Maja watched him, studying his injuries. How his face was swollen; his skin broken.

A tap on the shoulder stirred Viktor from his sweaty slumber and a bespectacled man in his twenties, whose glasses were made entirely of plastic, stood before him.

‘Brother Viktor?’ he said.

‘Uh, erm, yes,’ stammered Viktor.

‘And you must be Maja,’ said the man.

Maja nodded meekly.

‘My name is Haruto, I’m the lab assistant to Dr Khovansky. Follow me and I’ll take you down to the lab.’

Viktor took Maja’s hand and they walked with Haruto to the elevator where he swiped his security card and they stepped into the chrome box. The button panel revealed more levels than was visible from the street. Besides the floor above them, there were twelve levels underground. Haruto pressed the button displaying ‘-6’ and a green halo glowed around its circumference. The jolt of the elevator beginning its descent caused Viktor to steady himself on a handrail. Maja clung to her father’s leg tightly. Haruto looked at him, and smiled.

Seven pings later the doors slid open revealing a long, narrow corridor. Viktor and Maja followed Haruto. Maja squeezed her father’s hand more tightly as they passed doors with labels she didn’t understand. The paint on the walls was flaked and large swathes were missing completely. The overhead lighting fought to shine through cloudy plastic housings, and some bulbs flickered ahead of them. Maja was careful not to step on any of the large cracks in the concrete flooring, causing her to have a staggered, skip-like gait. Some of the doors were boarded up completely and the gaps at the floor were sealed with insulating foam. Viktor had heard stories of what had happened here during the plague. He found it oddly poetic that the facility was being reborn, after all the death it had endured. Finally, Haruto led them through a door with ‘MRI Lab’ neatly printed on the rectangular sign. Inside were three doors labelled: ‘Changing-room’, ‘Scanner-room’, and ‘Control-room’.

Haruto took them both into the control-room. A woman sat at a desk situated in front of a glass pane looking into the scanner-room. On the desk was a computer terminal with multiple monitors displaying various readouts. Haruto introduced Viktor and Maja to Dr Khovansky. She stood and shook Viktor’s hand and then squatted to meet Maja’s gaze.

‘Hello, Maja. My name is Marja. Our names sound almost the same, don’t they?’ she said.

Maja smiled at this.

‘Haruto here is going to take you into the room next door and get you ready for your scan. Okay?’ Khovansky said looking up at Viktor.

He nodded.

‘Oh my, that’s a beautiful cross.’ Khovansky said lifting the chain with her little finger.

‘Ah, yes. It’s like a comfort blanket to her,’ said Viktor. ‘It was her mother’s,’ he lied.

‘It really is beautiful,’ said Khovansky looking back at Maja ‘but we must take it off for just a little while until your scan is all over. Is that okay, Maja?’

‘Papa said I must always keep it on,’ said Maja.

‘It’ll only be for a little while dear, we don’t want the magnet in the scanner to snap the chain now do we?’ she said.

‘It’s pure silver, Dr Khovansky. It’s not magnetic,’ said Viktor.

Khovansky stood back up.

‘I’m afraid we can’t allow any metal inside the scanner room, Viktor. Mistakes happen, you cannot be one-hundred percent certain that the cross and chain are pure-silver. Even if there is slight traces of magnetic material inside the chain or cross they could rise in temperature inside the scanner and cause burning. Not to mention it could damage the machine if it shot towards the magnet. We won’t take that kind of risk,’ said Khovansky.

Viktor quickly weighed his options. He didn’t want to draw more attention than was necessary to the situation. Khovansky saw his hesitation.

‘The scan will be a little under thirty minutes, Viktor. She’ll be fine,’ said Khovansky.

Viktor nodded.

‘Maja, it’s okay to take your chain off for Dr Khovansky. I’ll look after it for you,’ he said.

Maja didn’t look convinced but didn’t resist while Khovansky unknotted the broken chain, forensically jostling the chain with her fingernails.

‘There we go!’ she said finally, and handed the chain to Viktor.

‘I’ll keep it safe,’ he assured Maja.

Haruto took Maja’s hand and guided her to the changing room.

‘We’ll be right here.’ said Viktor watching Maja disappear from the control room.

‘She’ll be fine, Viktor. Haruto is great with kids,’ said Khovansky.

Viktor nodded appreciatively.

‘I’m sorry, Dr Khovansky. She’s all I have left in the world. Her mother died during the, well, you know.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve done a fine job with Maja. She’s a pleasant child,’ said Khovansky.

‘Thank you, Dr.’

‘Don’t mention it. So, according to your referral Maja has...’

Viktor coughed midway through Khovansky’s sentence, and was so caught off-guard that he didn’t have time to bring his arm to his mouth. Khovansky flinched as blood and saliva splashed onto her face and top. Viktor continued to cough violently, clutching his ribs with one hand as he steadied himself with the other.

‘Christ, Viktor!’ said Khovansky as she wiped the bloody fluid from her face.

‘Oh god, I’m so sorry!’ said Viktor regaining his breath, ‘I was mugged last night, I took a beating.’

Khovansky reached out and lifted Viktor’s top and examined his ribs. A deep purple bruise was stretched across his abdomen.

‘I’d put my food allowance on you having a punctured lung, Viktor. You need a hospital, right now,’ she said.

‘No. After the scan.’ said Viktor.

‘Viktor. This looks serious,’ said Khovansky.

‘After the scan, Marja. This is important.’

Khovansky looked at him, shook her head and removed her blood speckled jumper. She took some tissue from her pocket and used it to mop up the fluids from the rest of her face.

‘You’re being foolish, Viktor. Maja is lucky to have you, but you must get yourself to a hospital as soon as you leave here if her luck is to continue. Understood?’ she said binning the tissue.

Viktor nodded.

Haruto returned to the control room with Maja as Viktor seated himself wiping the slick of sweat from his forehead.

‘All ready.’ said Haruto.

‘Don’t you look smart in your gown!’ said Khovansky.

Maja smiled and looked at Viktor.

‘You’re an angel, Maja,’ he said.

‘Okay doke. Shall we get you lying down on the scanner bed?’ said Haruto.

Maja ran over to Viktor and clung to him in a prolonged hug.

‘It’s okay, Puppy. We’ll be out of here in no time,’ he said untangling her arms and slipping the chain into her palm and closing her fist.

He winked at her and gently pushed her towards Haruto.

‘This way, Maja,’ he said.

Viktor watched from the control-room as Haruto helped Maja onto the scanner bed and secured her into place. He pressed a button and the bed slid into the scanner and Maja’s feet disappeared inside with it.

Khovansky spoke over the intercom that was fed directly into the ear-protectors that Haruto had put on Maja. She told Maja that the machine was noisy but not to let that worry her, it was supposed to be that way. Khovansky asked her to stay as still as she possibly could and, if she wanted to, she could sleep. Maja said ‘Okay,’ and Khovansky told her they were starting and she initiated the scan once Haruto returned to the control-room.

‘I can take it from here, Haruto. Get yourself off home for the day,’ said Khovansky.

‘Thanks, boss,’ he said and gathered his belongings.

‘Thank you for all your help, Haruto,’ said Viktor.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Viktor,’ he said shaking his hand. Tell Maja it was a pleasure meeting her too.’

‘I will.’

Haruto left the lab and made his way back to the elevator.

Maja lay looking at the machine that surrounded her and could feel the vibration of it in her chest as it whirred, clicked and sporadically let loose what sounded like horn blasts. She tried to imagine how loud it would sound without the ear protection. She clutched her crucifix tightly, with that familiar feeling of it biting into her palm. But something was different. It began to feel warm, and then hot. She began to moan quietly as the clasp in her hand increased in temperature.

Viktor felt himself succumbing to exhaustion once again, his head lulling forward in his seat. Khovansky sat monitoring the scan. She had an intercom constantly on, at a low level listening out for anything Maja might say.

‘Wait a minute,’ said Khovansky. ‘Do you here that, Viktor?’

He drunkenly lifted his head, sensing the change in atmosphere and listened as Khovansky turned up the speaker. There it was, a distinct low moan from Maja.

Khovansky turned her microphone on.

‘Maja, dear. Is everything okay?’

Maja responded with a whimper, followed by a wail.

‘Shit!’ said Khovansky.

She got to her feet, killed the scan, and gave herself a pat-down checking for anything on her person with metal in it.

‘You, stay here.’ she said to Viktor and burst out of the control-room and into the scanner-room.

Khovansky ran towards the machine, and glanced over her shoulder seeing Viktor, now on his feet, watching her through the pane-glass as she withdrew Maja on the bed from the scanner.

‘What on earth is the matter, Maja,’ she asked as she leaned in to look at the tear sodden face of the small girl strapped on the bed.

Maja continued to wail without speaking. Khovansky noticed Maja’s right hand was clinched so tightly her knuckles were white. She pried it open and gasped.

‘This clasp is burning her hand. You idiot, Viktor!’ bristled Khovansky over the intercom speaker.

She took the chain from Maja, walked briskly back into the control-room and tossed it at Viktor.

‘You put your child and the scanner at risk for some sentimental nonsense. This will have to be reported,’ she scolded.

‘I’m, I..,’ tried Viktor.

Khovansky returned to the scanner-room and began unstrapping Maja. She leaned across her to reach the head brace that Haruto had secured her in.

Maja lay panting and in that moment smelled it. Her eyes began to focus, and she saw it. A speck of blood on Khovansky’s neck. A shudder passed through Maja and she felt drowsy. She closed her eyes, and reopened them as her pupils rapidly dilated.

‘We’re nearly there, Maja,’ said Khovansky as she freed the last of her limbs from the bed.

Viktor stood watching, running the various scenarios of what was going to happen to him now. What was going to happen to Maja? What if they found out? He watched as Khovansky picked up Maja and took a step from the bed and loosed a scream. Khovansky collapsed to the hard ground with Maja. There was blood.

Viktor rushed from the control room and flung open the door into the scanner-room. He strode towards Maja. He felt the cheap replica of his lost wedding ring pull his hand away from his body. He yanked the ring from his finger with a grunt, and it flew across the room colliding with the magnet inside the scanner with a thunck. That’s when he saw Maja on all fours, at Khovansky’s neck.

‘Maja! No!’ shouted Viktor, pushing the feral child from Khovansky’s limp body whose heart still pushed blood through the ragged wounds, dousing the child and the room around her.

Maja fell hard onto the tile flooring, slipping on dark pools of blood. Khovansky, lay gurgling helplessly. Maja turned, shoulders hunched and stared at Viktor, her irises all but consumed by the darkness of her pupils. A quiet growl bubbled its way out of her throat. She took a step forward onto clean tiles, blood squelching from the sole of her foot.

‘Maja.’

She took another step.

Viktor looked at the vacant creature before him, searching for any trace of his daughter; of his reason for being. His eyes were drawn to an object tinkling and skittering across the tiles. It slid to a halt at his foot. Viktor bent down and picked it up, pinching it between finger and thumb. It was a tooth. Maja roughly brought her wrist across her lips and gums and a cascade of teeth fell from her mouth and rattled across the tiles.

‘Maja. Don’t. It’s me, Papa.’

Maja did not hear the pleas of Viktor.

The high-pitched swine-like squeals of the wretched, and the damned, cut through the lab and coursed through the empty corridors. There was no one to hear them. No one to raise an alarm. The wild cries lost to the decaying flora, steel, and cement, and high above in the jaundiced city the broken and the weak went about their day. Queueing for food, labouring under the direction of The Orthodoxy; existing. The snow-peppered cityscape sprawled outwards, a gradient of grey into white, succumbing to the snow until the great wall slashed erratically across it. Beyond this gaping wound on the face of the world , the shanty-towns smoked and smouldered, the ostracised huddled around barrels, burning their own waste to heat themselves, as they longed for entry past the wall. The very wall that denied them their dignity. The very wall that towered over them and cast its shadow long. The very wall that at that precise moment stood between them and the return of the plague-to-end-plagues. The barren lands, beyond the deplorable inhabitants of the shanty-town, coated in swirling dust, straddled the landscape past the horizon then melted into green, which in turn met the sea. Nature’s great barrier, keeping all out. Keeping everyone else in.

The small family blinked and squinted as they shielded the sun from their eyes. The sky seemed brighter here. The air clearer. The practitioner was as good as his word and all the paperwork had checked out. The border guards had welcomed them and waved them through the heavy metal door. They were finally home.