Fear Heaves

Miguel ran while motioning for any alert elevator inhabitant to hold the door for him. His wife, Julia, is sensitive about things pertaining to time and behavior. Miguel felt the disgustingly warm breathing of the masses behind him on the elevator. He wanted to get off the elevator as soon as possible.

Miguel was met with papers, which made him restless. He looked at professionals in the office and felt hatred. They called upon him. They forced him to wear a mask to keep illness from spreading. Julia and the other patients were kept in an isolation room; her illness was not a guaranteed fatality, but Miguel gathered a rough explanation of the illness from the news and magazines. The illness had something to do with the adrenal glands, and it is said that to startle a person afflicted with this illness is to incite death. He told himself not to upset Julia, just in case she would get worked up. He was startled by the strangeness of the room. The patients were packed like sardines next to each other. Whenever human beings are forced into situations where they must invade each other’s personal space, associations between man and farm animals form.

Miguel walked over to Julia and began to comb her hair with his hand.

“Hey Miguel. Your not late this time.”

“No. I was considerate.”

Miguel turned his head to the right, observing a row of televisions intended for the patients. Every television played Bob Ross. Miguel looked concerned and curious, and motioned toward the televisions with his hand.

“It’s to protect us from fear. It’s very soothing.”

Julia rubbed Miguel’s hand.

“I’m so glad to see you. I wish I wasn’t so sick. I’m horny.”

“Make sure you don’t get worked up.”

Miguel could make out an outburst of contempt from the bed right beside him. A portly man holding a book looked him in the eye, peering above his bifocals. Miguel never backed down from confrontation.

“What the hell was that?”

“The sound of disgust. I don’t want to hear about your relations. You don’t want to initiate a heaving spell, do you? It could be potentially fatal for those afflicted.”

Miguel reigned himself in.

“No, certainly not. I meant no offense.”

“None taken, I forgive you. My name’s Kerns.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Miguel Vasquez and this is my wife Julia Vasquez.”

“I know your wife. We talk.”

“What?”

“Me and your wife have very charming discussions.”

Miguel looked at Julia. She shrugged.

“Interesting way to put it. You sure have a different mannerism than most people.”

“I’m Kerns.” Kerns shrugged. Miguel’s eyes were wide open as he shook his head up and down in illusory rapport.

“Kerns who, if I may ask?”

“You may not.”

And so this summed up their discussion with Kerns, who was intent on reading.

Around thirty minutes later, Miguel was glad to dismiss himself. The hospital gave him chills. Miguel gave his goodbye to Julia, yet while he was heading toward the door, he stopped suddenly and turned around. He peeled the mask quickly from his face and gave Julia goodbye kiss. She smiled and waved goodbye. Miguel was now officially on his way out, now with a feeling of closure. Until this feeling was interrupted by Kerns.

“Bad move, bud.”

“I know, I know.”

“See you soon, bud. If you have children, don’t touch them.”

Miguel exited the room, annoyed at the direct Kerns. Miguel knew many a man like Kerns, a stickler for every unwritten rule in the book except for those intimate ones formed spontaneously by emotional connection to human beings. A robot programmed of selfishness, not servitude.

The rest of the day went along like a nightmare, and after having a real nightmare, he woke up to a nightmare. Miguel was in the hospital, as far away from Julia as the staff could manage. He motioned towards a nurse while rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“Excuse me ma’am, but I have a favor to ask. Would you ask the man called Kerns if he would be willing to swap beds with me?”

“I am sorry, that’s not possible.”

Miguel noticed movement from across the room. It was Kerns. He was wagging his tongue and flashing his eyes. Miguel allowed himself a moment of silence. He was furious, but once his heart started pumping unusually hard and his whole head began to throb, he forced himself to focus on Bob Ross. Calm down Miguel. Calm down Miguel. Calm down Miguel. Miguel had a mantra taught to him by his Psychiatrist, Bob Glass. It didn’t work. He decided in the moment to stop seeing Bob, who wasn’t worth the hefty price. Miguel knew that he could absolutely not get angry under his current condition. Besides. This Kerns guy, he’s forced to use his hand. He looks like a fifty something year old dude, but I bet he’s still a virgin. Fucking prick. No! Calm down. But of course, you know this Kerns guy, this guy works at a grocery store. Huh? Kerns is talking to my wife! Damn! Well, I’ll have to just listen. He was chagrined to hear chuckles from Julia and Kern’s direction.

“You know, I just got done heaving Jules, but I’m hungry. I emptied myself out, so I’m ready. It’s partly because I’ve got first class hospital attendance, which allows me benefits such as exclusive caviar, Cabernet Sauvignon, you name it Jules.”

“Oh, wow!”

“Here’s a little deal. You tell me about it, and I’ll tell you what – I’ll get you your own dish of caviar. You ever try it?”

“No, I haven’t. You’re so kind, Kerns!”

Miguel felt the pressure well up in his head. Caviar? This asshole’s rich! Miguel felt like a clock hand spinning wildly out of control. He couldn’t control his anger. He was almost as mad as that time he gave Julia the back hand. He regretted that bit of violence. But he would kill Kerns. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. Calm down Miguel. Calm down Miguel. Calm down Miguel. I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! Then, suddenly, from Miguel erupted volcanic vomit. His bed sheets were anointed in corroded Vienna sausage and bourbon, his two best friends for depression. Two annoyed nurses in hazmats pulled curtains around Miguel and changed his clothes and sheets. As Miguel was naked and vulnerable, and surrounded by cold and calculating nurses, he could hear those distinctive chuckles. He almost cried. It was one of those flashback sobs, the ones that take you back to your childhood. But Miguel stopped himself. I can’t let that prick know he’s dominated me. I can’t let him know he’s won.

Miguel decided to simply sleep off this terrible curse, this terrible day, and this terrible sickness. Unfortunately for him, his sleep was serrated. The nurses kept these nagging, blue lights on. It was as if they expected patients to be so ill they wouldn’t care. Miguel found himself awake at some point, and looking around the room, he found every patient to be asleep. He eyed Julia’s beautiful sickness-stricken face. He allowed his eyes to skirt the room somewhat, but they fell to rest on a horrible sight. Blood on the apron. Nurses rushed into the room, so he squinted his eyes and pretended to sleep so they wouldn’t tell him to go to bed. The nurses made sure everyone was sleeping. Then they began to talk. The head doctor was present, it would seem. He spoke.

“Patient 66, dead by stomach lining tear.”

“We should up the amount of water for the patients.”

“It’s no use. The sickness is too severe. You know what purpose they serve now.”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts. The citizens of this city do not know that the ground pork shipments are too expensive to ship across the expansive desert – and they are not to know. It would start a rebellion. I’m getting paid for this. The Thelemites need the meat!”

The lead doctor picked up the corpse with seemingly superhuman strength. What gave him such physical power? He stuck the back of the corpse onto a meat hook and closed the curtain. He was about to wheel the cadaver away, until Miguel wailed out.

“Awaken everyone! This hospital is hell! Hell!”

Miguel ran and tackled the doctor, but the doctor simply grabbed onto him and pounded him on the back with his fist. Miguel instantly let out a long and painful dry heave. The giant and strong doctor pounded away until Miguel heaved himself to death. All the patients were awake now, spewing volcanic vomit and dry heaving. Acidic caviar remains were on Julia and Kerns’s aprons. The doctor started to panic as patients in the waiting room came to see what the commotion was all about. The doctor was shot by a 2nd amendment advocate. All the commotion caused the patients to enter into severe dry heaving spells.

Kerns was the only patient who remained alive. He was back to full health. He explained what happened to the news camera. He put gel in his hair before appearing in front of the camera.

“How does it feel to be the only man who survived?”

“My condolences to the deceased patients at the hospital, but I’m feeling fine.”