Chapter 22: The Hospital

  Wilkes leaned against the window frame, watching Raven disappear beyond the hospital’s perimeter. He knew he should be out there too, using his own skills to scout, but leadership required someone to stay behind. Someone had to keep things together.

  Pushing off the frame, he made his way toward the training area, deciding to check in on Henson. When he arrived, he found the man looking visibly overwhelmed, his arms crossed as he surveyed a crowd of nearly forty volunteers.

  Wilkes raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect this many, did you?”

  Henson let out a breath, shaking his head. “Hell no. Half of them barely know how to hold a weapon, but I’m sorting through them now.”

  Curious, Wilkes stuck around as Henson started asking the group about prior combat experience. Almost a dozen stepped forward. That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the fact that several already had trait stones—proof that they had fought enough to develop skills.

  Wilkes crossed his arms. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.”

  Henson had them display their traits, and the results made Wilkes pause. Seven of them carried traits linked to blunt weapons, while five had dagger-related traits.

  He frowned slightly. “These people aren’t going to be effective in a shield wall.”

  Henson nodded. “Nope. They’ll need specialized training.”

  Wilkes exhaled, rubbing his chin in thought before making a decision. “I’ll take the ones with blunt traits. I know how to make them useful.” He then turned to the group of knife-wielders. “Any of you actually trained?”

  The recruits exchanged glances before one finally stepped forward. He was lean, wiry, and carried himself like someone used to looking over his shoulder.

  “I ain’t trained,” the man admitted, his voice rough with experience. “But I’ve carried a knife my whole life. Grew up dealing with shady people. I can at least show them how not to stab themselves.”

  Wilkes studied him for a moment before nodding. “That’ll do. Get them started.”

  Henson, meanwhile, took the rest of the recruits to the plaza, where he began handing out mop handles and broomsticks. “You train with what you got,” he muttered as he started drilling them in basic movements.

  Wilkes, on the other hand, went to the equipment storage where his officers had dumped their excess gear. He managed to scavenge enough batons for his group, while the knife users disappeared deeper into the hospital, already forming their own unit.

  They had the numbers. Now it was time to see if they had the discipline to match.

  As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Wilkes finally called a halt to training. His recruits were undisciplined and green, but they had heart.

  “Again!” he barked, watching as one recruit barely blocked a strike in time. The kid groaned, gripping his baton with shaking hands.

  “Damn it, Foster,” another recruit laughed, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re gonna get your head caved in.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Foster muttered, setting his stance.

  Wilkes allowed himself the smallest smirk. At least they were getting competitive.

  He was quietly proud of the effort they had put in.

  Dismissing the group, he stretched out his sore shoulders and went in search of Carter. He found him in the basement near the sink, of all places. With him were Liu and five others—most likely the volunteer gardeners.

  Unlike Carter, the others were seated cross-legged, eyes closed in deep concentration. Every now and then, one of them would peek to check on Carter, only to quickly squeeze their eyes shut again. Wilkes leaned against the doorframe, watching in silence. He stayed for twenty minutes before Carter finally called a halt.

  “Alright,” Carter said, rubbing his hands together. “That’s enough for today. Rest up and focus on that feeling you started to experience.”

  The group nodded and rose stiffly to their feet, shuffling out with tired but determined expressions. As they left, Liu and Carter approached Wilkes.

  “The gardeners were able to interact with the construct,” Carter reported. “But they became faint pretty quickly after starting. That tells me they need to develop their cores before they can use it properly.”

  Liu, however, was far more animated. “It was amazing, Wilkes,” she interrupted, practically glowing with excitement. “As soon as I touched the ledger, it lit up with options for crops I already knew about! We’ve got carrots, tomatoes, potatoes, beets, and peas growing. And you should see it—it’s like they’ve been planted for weeks! We each poured Ether into it until we were about to pass out, and the plants just kept growing.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Wilkes was taken aback. That sounded incredible.

  Carter, unbothered by the interruption, picked up where he left off. “Lessons went surprisingly well. Turns out, I’m much better at explaining what to feel for than Raven.” He smirked.

  “That’s good news,” Wilkes said. “Any idea how long it’ll take?”

  “Liu here and maybe one other might be ready by tomorrow. Possibly sooner if they practice tonight,” Carter replied.

  Wilkes nodded, then narrowed his eyes. “What made you decide to train down here?”

  “The Ether density is thickest here,” Carter answered with a shrug. “I’m not a hundred percent sure it helps, but it sure doesn’t hurt.”

  Wilkes was impressed. It was a smart decision.

  “Keep at it,” he said. Then, noticing Liu’s barely contained excitement, he added, “Let’s go check out this garden of yours.”

  They arrived at the ward-turned-greenhouse, and Wilkes froze in shock.

  Before him stood lush, thriving plants—ones that should have taken weeks to grow. Yet here they were, flourishing as if they had been cultivated for months. Each stalk, vine, and leaf looked impossibly healthy.

  He took a slow step forward, reaching out to run his fingers over the thick leaves of a tomato plant. The scent of fresh earth and ripe vegetation filled the air, thick with life in a way that felt unnatural—like the plants weren’t just growing but pulsing with something deeper.

  “This…” He exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. “If this is an effect of Ether, then maybe it’s not all bad.”

  Liu grinned. “Right? Imagine what we could do with more gardens like this.”

  Wilkes nodded, scanning the plants once more. “We won’t have to imagine for long,” he said, running a hand over one of the thick tomato vines. "A couple more of these, and we’re not just surviving—we’re rebuilding."

  For the first time in a while, he allowed himself to feel something close to hope.

  As Wilkes made his way back to his office, he spotted Patila striding toward him with an air of self-importance. Suppressing a sigh, Wilkes squared his shoulders. Of all the officers under his command, Patila was by far his least favourite. The man had been transferred as punishment for poor performance, his superiors hoping that Wilkes' leadership might somehow shape him into something competent.

  But Wilkes knew better. Patila was a coward with an ego—never a good combination.

  Wilkes didn’t break stride, forcing the officer to fall in step beside him. “What can I help you with, Officer Patila?”

  Patila cleared his throat, his expression one of exaggerated seriousness. “Sir, I wanted to speak to you about Raven.”

  Wilkes didn’t stop walking. “What about him?” His patience was already wearing thin. He could see exactly where this was going.

  Patila’s voice dropped slightly, as if he were revealing some terrible secret. “He’s a monster, sir. I can see it in his eyes. And the way he just moved through the wall into the chapel yesterday… that wasn’t normal.”

  Wilkes exhaled slowly through his nose. “Patila, what we understood as normal went out the window the moment this all started. Logic and reason? They don’t apply the same way anymore. That’s something we all need to get used to.”

  He stopped walking and turned to face the officer directly. “Now tell me, what were you doing in the chapel, Officer Patila?”

  Patila paled slightly. “I… I heard something,” he stammered. “I went to check it out.”

  Wilkes’ expression hardened. “The last I checked, you were supposed to be guarding the entrance with the others.”

  Patila shifted uncomfortably, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I—sir, I thought it could be a threat. I was just trying to be careful.”

  Wilkes gave him a long, scrutinizing look before shaking his head. “No. You were hiding.”

  Patila stiffened. “Sir, I—”

  Wilkes cut him off. “Let me guess. Raven found you cowering somewhere. He called you out—and now you’re trying to shift the blame onto him?”

  Patila’s face turned red, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. His hand twitched at his side, as if debating whether to stand his ground or flee.

  “I don’t tolerate cowardice, Officer,” Wilkes said, his voice quiet but firm. “And I won’t stand for slander—especially against someone who’s done more for this group than you ever have.”

  Patila flinched but didn’t argue.

  Wilkes stepped closer, his voice leaving no room for argument. “If I catch you abandoning your post again—especially in an emergency—you’re done. No second chances.”

  Visibly shaken, the officer swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Good.” Wilkes stepped back. “Now get back to work.”

  Patila didn’t need to be told twice. He turned sharply and strode away, though Wilkes noted the tension in his shoulders.

  Patila was a problem. Not just because he was useless—but because men like him made situations worse. The kind who panicked when things went south. The kind who dragged others down with them.

  Wilkes had no illusions about changing the man, but if he ever endangered someone else or worse got them killed with his cowardice, Wilkes would see to it that he never wore a badge again.

  With a quiet sigh, he resumed his walk back to his office. There were real problems to deal with.

  As Wilkes reached his office, exhaustion pressed heavily on his shoulders. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows through the hospital corridors. He didn’t have much time before he’d have to take over guard duty, and if he didn’t rest now, he’d become a liability later.

  He locked the door behind him, unbuckled his gear, and sat on the edge of the cot. His body ached from training the recruits, but it was a satisfying ache—the kind that came with pushing people past their limits. His mind, however, refused to settle.

  His thoughts drifted to Raven.

  The kid had been gone for hours, and while Wilkes knew Raven could take care of himself, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that trouble had found him—or, more likely, he had gone looking for it.

  Wilkes exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. His eyelids felt heavier than his body, but his mind refused to quiet. “Damn it, kid… just don’t make me regret letting you go.”

  He lay back on the cot, the stiff mattress pressing into his sore muscles. The air smelled of old antiseptic and sweat, a stale reminder of how many people were crammed into this place. The hospital creaked around him—distant murmurs of people settling in, the faint sound of boots pacing the hallways, the ever-present hum of tension in the air.

  A nagging feeling clung to him. The kind that said he’d missed something. Overlooked something. His fingers twitched against the cot, gripping at nothing. He frowned in his sleep, jaw tightening even as exhaustion won.

  Sleep didn’t come easy.

  But when it did, it came with uneasy dreams.