“Mannequin Syndrome”

Part One

Heather Driscoll glanced up at the clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. It was past midnight, and her twelve-hour shift at Mercy Creek Clinic felt like it would never end. She sighed, shifting slightly on her stool behind the nurses’ station. Her coworker, Elaine, had already dozed off in the break room, leaving Heather alone in the sterile silence of the waiting room.

She rubbed her temples and stood, stretching stiff muscles. Outside, beyond the clinic’s tinted glass doors, a soft greenish glow painted the sky. Heather moved to the window, intrigued.

“What is that?” she whispered. Her reflection—tired eyes, pale skin, brown hair pulled hastily into a ponytail—stared back at her.

A sudden metallic squeal made her jump. The automatic clinic doors hissed open, startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet space. Heather turned quickly, forcing a professional smile.

“Hello, welcome to Mercy Creek Clinic. How can I—” Her words faltered as she stared at the figure who stepped inside. “Um… can I help you?”

The newcomer stood motionless just beyond the threshold. Tall and slender, he wore ordinary clothes—jeans and a faded sweatshirt—but his skin was unnaturally pale, almost luminescent under the clinic’s fluorescent lights. His expression was utterly blank, eyes wide open and vacant. His features, perfectly symmetrical, had the too-smooth sheen of polished plastic.

“Sir?” Heather tried again, stepping forward cautiously. “Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?”

The patient did not move or respond. His gaze remained fixed forward, toward nothing.

Heather drew closer, stopping just out of arm’s reach. She studied him, heart quickening in discomfort. He didn’t appear to breathe.

Her voice dropped softer, gentler. “Hey… It’s okay. My name’s Heather. I’m a nurse here. If you’re hurt or confused, we can help you. Can you tell me your name?”

Still nothing. He didn’t even blink.

Heather reached carefully for the patient’s arm, guiding him gently toward a seat. He moved compliantly, but stiffly, his limbs awkwardly jointed like a doll’s. His skin felt smooth beneath her fingertips, and strangely cold.

“Okay,” Heather said, forcing calm into her voice. “Let’s just sit down right here and talk for a minute.”

The man settled into the chair rigidly, hands resting flat on his thighs. Heather knelt in front of him, searching his expressionless face for signs of comprehension.

“Can you hear me?” she asked softly, holding eye contact. “Can you speak?”

She studied him closely, suppressing her unease as she saw no evidence of breathing. Instinctively, she reached out again, this time pressing her fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. There was nothing, just skin as smooth and lifeless as porcelain.

She withdrew her hand quickly. “Wait here. I’m going to get the doctor.”

Heather rose, stepping back, her gaze never leaving the patient. Only when she reached the hallway did she turn away, nearly colliding with Elaine, who had emerged groggily from the break room.

“What’s up, Heather?” Elaine asked through a yawn.

Heather steadied herself. “I don’t know. We have a patient, and… I’ve never seen anything like him.”

Elaine frowned, rubbing her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. Just—don’t get too close yet. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Heather hurried down the corridor, knocking urgently on Dr. Green’s office door. “Aaron, we’ve got a patient, and he… well, something’s not right.”

The door opened immediately. Dr. Aaron Green, a lean man in his fifties with a mop of unruly grey hair, stepped into the hallway. He studied her concerned expression, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of not right?”

Heather hesitated, aware of how strange her description would sound. “He’s awake, responsive enough to follow instructions, but he’s completely unresponsive verbally. And physically, he seems…” She searched for the right word. “Plastic.”

Green raised an eyebrow. “Plastic? Is this a joke, Heather?”

“Do I look like I’m joking? Just come see for yourself.”

As they returned to the waiting area, Heather noticed Elaine standing rigidly near the desk, staring at the patient. Heather followed her coworker’s gaze and felt her stomach clench.

The patient had risen from the chair and stood motionless once again, positioned precisely as he had when he first entered. A faint, greenish glow seemed to ripple briefly across his skin before fading.

“That’s him?” Dr. Green whispered incredulously.

“Yes,” Heather said, her voice low and tense. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Dr. Green stepped forward, clinical skepticism evident in his movements. “Hello, sir. I’m Dr. Green. Are you in any pain?”

He got no response. Green cautiously touched the patient’s arm, flinching back almost immediately.

“My god,” Green muttered. “His skin…”

“Plastic?” Heather finished. “I told you.”

“Get him into an examination room,” Green said, visibly shaken but regaining authority. “Now. And keep him isolated.”

Heather nodded, swallowing hard as she moved toward the patient again. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere comfortable,” she said gently, attempting to keep her tone soothing despite her rising panic.

He followed her movements stiffly and mechanically, his steps sounding hollow on the tiled floor.

Heather’s hands trembled slightly as she guided him into the small exam room at the far end of the corridor. “Sit right here,” she instructed, guiding him onto the examination table. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He settled obediently, still without any visible sign of comprehension or emotion. Heather stepped out quickly, closing the door behind her. In the hall, she turned to Green, her voice strained but firm. “What do you think it is, Aaron? Drugs? Catatonia? I’ve never seen anything—”

“Neither have I,” Green interrupted grimly. “Let’s run some tests. Whatever this is, it’s not normal. Keep your distance.”

Elaine approached, clearly shaken. “Heather… wh-what’s happening?”

Heather drew a deep breath, steadying herself and choosing her words carefully.“I don’t know yet. But whatever it is, we’re going to find out. Everyone, just be careful. Something about this isn’t right.”

In the silence following her words, Heather could still feel the strange patient’s presence radiating through the door behind her. And in the back of her mind, a single thought echoed, quiet but insistent:

He isn’t human. 

Part Two

Heather stood outside the examination room, staring at the closed door. The corridor’s cold fluorescent lights flickered briefly, drawing her attention upward. She shook her head, rubbing at her temples as Dr. Green approached, clipboard in hand.

“We’ve got preliminary results, Heather,” Green began, frowning deeply.

“Already?” Heather asked, glancing at her watch. It had only been twenty minutes since they’d drawn samples.

“Yes—and no. That’s the problem,” he said, holding up a sheet of paper. “Every blood sample crystallized instantly. It’s like his blood is polymerizing when exposed to air.”

Heather leaned against the wall, crossing her arms tightly as she studied Green’s perplexed expression. “That’s impossible, Aaron. There’s no biological precedent for that.”

“Impossible or not, it happened,” he replied grimly, shaking his head. “And there’s something else. His body is emitting low-level electromagnetic radiation. It’s subtle, but it interferes with the lab instruments.”

Heather felt a chill run down her spine. “Radiation? Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t know yet,” Green admitted. “But whatever we’re dealing with, it’s not something from our textbooks.”

Heather glanced back toward the closed door. “Aaron… he arrived right after that strange glow in the sky. What if there’s a connection?”

“Are you suggesting something extraterrestrial?” he asked skeptically.

“No,” Heather answered slowly, her voice measured. “Not necessarily extraterrestrial. I don’t know. Maybe.”

Green stared at her, stunned into momentary silence before breaking into uneasy laughter. “Aliens? Heather, come on. We’re scientists.”

“Exactly,” she pressed firmly, eyes narrowed with conviction. “Science isn’t about dismissing possibilities. I’m not saying we’re in an episode of The Twilight Zone, but if standard biology doesn’t explain him, we have to expand our thinking.”

Green sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, Heather. Say it is from beyond this world. Then what? How do we deal with that?”

“We observe, document, and keep an open mind,” Heather replied firmly. “Until we know more, that’s all we can do.”

Green hesitated before nodding reluctantly. “Alright, but let’s keep this quiet for now. The last thing we need is panic.”

Heather nodded, her thoughts already racing ahead. “Agreed.”

The sudden sound of footsteps echoed sharply down the hallway. Both turned sharply as Elaine hurried toward them, pale and breathless.

“Heather, Aaron—there’s another one.”

Heather’s stomach tightened. “Another patient?”

Elaine nodded urgently. “It’s Marjorie Pierce. She’s out front, and she’s exactly like him. Same blank stare, same stiffness.”

Heather exchanged an uneasy glance with Green before swiftly moving toward the waiting room. Marjorie, a local schoolteacher who’d visited the clinic regularly for migraines, stood perfectly still beside a waiting room chair, staring blankly ahead. Her expression was frozen, her skin pale and waxy.

“Oh my God,” Heather whispered, stepping closer cautiously. “Marjorie? It’s Heather. Can you hear me?”

Marjorie didn’t respond. She simply stared ahead, lifeless.

Heather waved a hand gently in front of Marjorie’s face, eliciting no reaction. She swallowed hard and placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, guiding her toward the second exam room. “Come on, Marjorie. It’s going to be okay.”

Marjorie moved stiffly, awkwardly following Heather’s gentle directions. As they walked, Heather spoke softly, more to calm herself than expecting any response.

“We’re going to help you, Marjorie. I promise we’re going to figure this out.”

Heather carefully sat Marjorie on the edge of the exam table. Once again, she attempted communication, this time more insistently.

“Marjorie, please. If you can understand me, try to respond. Blink. Nod. Anything.”

Silence filled the room. Heather stepped back, exhaling sharply, startled by Dr. Green’s sudden appearance at the doorway.

“Same symptoms?” Green asked.

Heather nodded, worry etched on her face. “Identical. Aaron, whatever’s happening, it’s spreading fast.”

Green drew a shaky breath. “Then we isolate the clinic immediately. No one in or out. At least until we know how it spreads.”

“You’re talking quarantine?” Heather asked, anxiety evident in her voice. “Aaron, we’re not equipped for that.”

“We have no choice,” Green replied firmly. “I’ll call Sheriff Barnes. In the meantime, keep everyone away from them. We don’t know if it’s contagious.”

Heather nodded grimly, her gaze flicking nervously toward Marjorie. “Okay. I’ll make sure Elaine stays clear, too.”

Green stepped out quickly, leaving Heather alone with Marjorie. She took a moment, watching her former patient with sadness. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” Heather whispered softly, “but we’ll fix it. Somehow, we’ll fix it.”

Marjorie’s gaze slowly turned toward Heather, startling her. Heather stepped back involuntarily, heart pounding.

“Marjorie? Can you hear me?”

Marjorie’s lips parted stiffly, her voice a mechanical whisper. “They’re coming.”

Heather froze, a cold dread seizing her chest. “Who? Who’s coming, Marjorie?”

Marjorie’s gaze drifted slowly upward, her mouth barely moving as she answered. “From… between the stars. Through the tear. We opened it. They… found us.”

Heather trembled visibly, but held herself steady. “Who found us? What tear, Marjorie? Please, tell me more.”

Marjorie’s mouth twitched, then returned to stillness. Her eyes glazed over, empty again.

“Marjorie?” Heather called urgently, gripping the woman’s shoulders. “Marjorie, come back! What tear?”

The door burst open. Elaine stood there, eyes wide with panic. “Heather! Aaron says the sheriff’s not answering. Communications are down all over town. And… there are more of them outside. At least a dozen, just standing out there.”

Heather released Marjorie slowly, feeling a wave of helplessness wash over her. “Elaine, stay calm. We’ll handle this.”

“How, Heather? How do we handle this?”

Heather steeled herself, inhaling deeply to steady her nerves. “First, we keep everyone inside. No one goes out there. Understand?”

Elaine nodded numbly, eyes fixed fearfully on Marjorie’s inert figure.

Heather stepped forward, taking Elaine’s trembling hands firmly. “Listen. We don’t lose ourselves, Elaine. We stick together. Whatever this is, we can’t let it overwhelm us. We’re still us. We’re still here. Okay?”

Elaine squeezed Heather’s hands, desperately clinging to that reassurance. “Okay. I trust you.”

Heather’s voice softened with determination. “Then let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

Elaine followed Heather into the hallway, leaving Marjorie behind, stiff and silent. As they emerged into the waiting area, Heather saw them clearly now through the windows—more silent, plastic figures, illuminated by the pale, unnatural glow from the sky.

Heather drew a steadying breath, facing the surreal nightmare head-on. “Aaron!” she called sharply. “Get everyone back from the windows. Barricade the doors.”

Dr. Green appeared, shaken but resolute. “Heather, what are we dealing with?”

Heather met his frightened gaze directly, her voice firm and unflinching. “Something none of us has ever faced before.”

She moved toward the doors, locking eyes with Green. “But we’re going to survive this. We have to.”

Part Three

Heather’s pulse raced as she helped Dr. Green and Elaine push a heavy filing cabinet in front of the glass entrance doors. Outside, more silent, mannequin-like figures had gathered beneath the eerie green glow, standing motionless in the clinic’s parking lot. The sickly light from above rippled across their pale, plastic-like skin.

“Is this enough?” Elaine whispered anxiously, stepping back from their makeshift barricade.

Heather eyed the figures warily. “It’ll have to be. At least until we find out how this infection spreads.”

Dr. Green shook his head slowly, disbelief heavy in his voice. “I still don’t understand it. How could this happen so quickly?”

“It’s spreading exponentially,” Heather said, glancing around the small waiting room, evaluating weak points. “We need to assume the worst: that it’s airborne or transmitted by proximity.”

Elaine’s breath came faster. “But we’ve all been near them. Why aren’t we sick?”

Heather turned toward her friend, determination clear on her face. “I don’t know. But we can’t panic. Staying rational is the only thing we have right now.”

Elaine nodded, trying visibly to steady herself. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Heather squeezed Elaine’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay. We’re all scared. But we have each other. We’re going to get through this.”

Dr. Green stepped closer to Heather, voice lowered. “We need to contact the CDC or the state authorities. This is way beyond our control.”

“We’ve tried, Aaron. Communications are dead,” Heather reminded him. “Whatever’s causing this interference—it’s tied to that anomaly outside.”

“You really believe it’s multidimensional?” Green asked, his skepticism replaced by quiet dread.

Heather met his eyes seriously. “I believe something unprecedented has happened, and it started with him.” She gestured toward the hallway leading to the exam rooms, where their first patient still sat quietly. “We need answers, and right now he’s the only one who might have them.”

Green frowned deeply. “You think talking to Patient Zero will help?”

Heather set her jaw. “We have to try.”

Green glanced reluctantly toward the exam room hallway, then sighed heavily. “All right, but I’m going with you. Elaine, stay here and monitor the doors. Alert us immediately if anything changes.”

Elaine nodded nervously. “Be careful.”

Heather offered her friend a brief, reassuring smile. “We’ll be back soon.”

She led Dr. Green swiftly down the corridor, her heartbeat quickening with every step closer to the patient’s room. She paused just outside, gathering her courage. “Aaron, whatever we see in there—just stay calm.”

Green’s eyes narrowed with unease. “Heather, why do you say it like that?”

She didn’t answer, instead slowly pushing open the door. The patient still sat stiffly on the examination table, his posture unchanged, eyes fixed blankly forward.

Heather approached cautiously, keeping her voice steady. “Sir, can you hear me? My name’s Heather Driscoll. This is Dr. Aaron Green. We need your help. People are getting sick, and we think it’s connected to you.”

The patient remained still for several long seconds. Then, without warning, his head turned stiffly toward Heather, joints clicking audibly. His eyes stared directly into hers.

“They…are…here,” he spoke mechanically, his voice hollow and distorted, as if transmitted through faulty speakers.

Heather’s stomach knotted, but she stepped closer, unwavering. “Who are ‘they’? Where did they come from?”

“Through…the tear. Between dimensions.” Each word emerged haltingly, as if spoken by someone unfamiliar with speech itself.

Green moved forward anxiously. “How do we stop them?”

The patient’s gaze shifted jerkily toward Green. “Too…late. Already…inside you. Growing.”

Green recoiled slightly. “What’s growing inside us?”

“Plasticity,” the patient whispered, words thick and slow. “Becoming…empty. They fill the void. Hollow worlds…collapsing into each other.”

Heather leaned in urgently. “What void? Tell me clearly—how do we stop it?”

The patient’s head tilted slowly, strangely bird-like. “Emotion…preserves. Connection…holds worlds apart. Isolation…allows merging.”

Heather’s brow furrowed sharply. “Wait—you’re saying emotional connection prevents the infection? Isolation speeds it?”

“Yes,” he replied simply, eyes empty again. “You…must…remember who you are.”

Heather exchanged an anxious glance with Green. “And what about you?” she asked softly, turning back. “Who were you, before this?”

The patient’s features twitched, flickers of pain briefly crossing his plastic face. “Forgotten. Alone…drifting…between worlds. They found me…made me theirs.”

Heather’s voice softened compassionately. “You’re still human somewhere inside. I believe that.”

The patient’s eyes met hers again, flickering with faint recognition. “Too late…for me. Not…for you.”

A sudden, sharp knocking erupted from the hallway. Elaine’s voice rose sharply, frantic. “Heather! Aaron! Hurry!”

Heather turned swiftly, racing back down the corridor, Green close behind. Elaine stood pressed against the waiting-room wall, eyes wide in terror. Outside, the figures had advanced silently, standing only inches from the glass doors, pale hands pressed flat against the surface.

“They’re moving,” Elaine gasped. “Heather—they’re coming inside.”

Heather stared at the barricade. The once-human faces beyond gazed inward blankly, greenish light pulsing softly beneath their translucent skin. One by one, they pressed forward, pushing methodically against the glass.

“Stay together!” Heather commanded, grabbing Elaine’s and Green’s hands, pulling them closer. “Listen to me—we have to stay connected. Emotional isolation lets them in. We have to fight it.”

Green gripped Heather’s hand tightly, his voice strained with suppressed panic. “How, Heather? How do we stop this?”

“We remind ourselves who we are,” Heather replied fiercely. “We talk, we feel, we don’t give into despair. The patient said connection protects us, so we connect.”

Elaine’s voice shook with desperation. “Then let’s connect fast—because they’re getting inside!”

Heather took a deep breath, forcing calm into her voice. “Elaine, talk to me. Tell me about your kids. About Lily and Max.”

Elaine blinked, momentarily startled, then nodded frantically. “Lily’s seven. Max just turned ten. They’re my whole world. Heather, I can’t lose them.”

“You won’t,” Heather said firmly, her voice steady. “We’re going to stay human for them. Aaron—tell us about someone you love.”

Green hesitated, his eyes shining with unexpected emotion. “My wife, Rebecca. We’ve been married twenty-seven years. I couldn’t function without her.”

“Exactly,” Heather said urgently, squeezing both their hands tighter. “Hold onto those feelings. Don’t let go.”

A loud cracking sounded through the room as the glass doors began to splinter beneath the relentless pressure. Elaine whimpered softly, shutting her eyes.

Heather squeezed her friend’s hand firmly, her voice unwavering. “Elaine, look at me. Look at us. Don’t shut down. Stay right here.”

Elaine opened her eyes, fighting tears, focusing intensely on Heather’s face.

“I’m here,” Heather assured her, strength radiating through her tone. “We’re here. We’re not giving up.”

Dr. Green stared outward, breathing heavily, his jaw set defiantly.

Heather’s eyes never wavered, locked with theirs, holding them together through sheer force of will. Outside, the figures pressed closer, emotionless eyes reflecting the glow above.

“We won’t give up,” Heather said, voice fierce and unwavering. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Part Four

The glass cracked with an ear-splitting crunch, jagged fissures racing across its surface. Heather tightened her grip on Elaine’s trembling hands, her pulse quickening.

“Stay calm,” she said urgently, gaze steady. “Remember who we are. Hold onto each other.”

With a shattering crash, the doors burst inward, sending shards of glass scattering across the waiting room floor. The pale figures stepped inside silently, moving stiffly, as if unfamiliar with the mechanics of walking. Heather watched them closely, her voice strong despite the fear in her chest.

“Look at their eyes—no recognition, no empathy. They’re shells. We can’t let them make us like them.”

Dr. Green swallowed hard, voice shaking but defiant. “So what do we do? Run?”

Heather shook her head sharply. “No. If isolation lets them in, fleeing separately just speeds up the infection. We face this together, right here.”

The pale, plastic-like figures paused several feet away, forming a silent, semicircular perimeter around the small group. Heather’s voice rose, direct and challenging.

“Whoever—or whatever—you are, we won’t give in. If you can understand me, listen: You cannot take our humanity without a fight.”

The figures remained silent, their emotionless eyes glowing faintly green.

Suddenly, movement stirred behind them. Patient Zero emerged stiffly from the corridor, his plasticized limbs moving awkwardly. He approached, his mechanical voice distorted but distinct.

“Your defiance…is meaningless. The rift…has grown. Your world…is merging.”

Heather faced him directly, unwavering. “And why does that matter to you?”

Patient Zero stopped, head tilting jerkily, studying her closely. “I am…the first. The catalyst. Your emotional energy…interferes. Resistance delays…assimilation.”

“So you need us empty,” Heather said fiercely. “But you’re not empty—not entirely. Something human still exists inside you. I felt it earlier.”

He paused again, visibly disturbed, internal struggle flickering briefly across his frozen features. “Too late for me. Already…consumed.”

“It’s never too late,” Heather countered urgently, stepping closer. “You were someone before this. You had a name, a life, maybe family. Tell me—who were you?”

Patient Zero’s eyes flickered, dimming and brightening rapidly. He raised a shaking, plasticized hand toward his temple, visibly distressed. “Fragments…left… It’s…painful.”

Heather pressed softly. “Tell me. Even fragments matter. They’re proof you were human.”

He hesitated, then spoke, voice brittle. “Jonathan…my name was Jonathan Bell. Lonely…forgotten. They found me…in the spaces between.”

“Jonathan,” Heather repeated softly, holding his gaze. “I won’t forget you. You’re still human, still Jonathan Bell.”

Jonathan’s expression shifted, briefly tormented by intense sorrow. “It hurts…to…remember.”

Heather stepped closer again, her voice gentle but firm. “That pain is what makes you human. Don’t shut it out. Fight for it. Help us stop this.”

Jonathan shook his head stiffly, struggling. “Cannot…stop. They…control.”

“Fight back!” Heather urged passionately. “Jonathan, please! Your humanity can survive whatever came through that tear.”

Jonathan twitched violently, his limbs jerking, spasms rattling his plastic frame. He cried out, voice distorted and harsh. “They are coming… through me!”

Heather stepped back quickly, her eyes widening as Jonathan’s body pulsed with a brilliant green glow. The air vibrated sharply, rippling outward. Behind him, the other figures shuddered in unison, their skin shimmering brightly.

“What’s happening?” Elaine gasped fearfully.

“They’re synchronizing,” Heather said breathlessly. “Preparing for something.”

Jonathan’s distorted voice rose in a distorted wail. “I’m sorry… I cannot…hold them back. Please…run!”

Heather stared, her mind racing. “No, Jonathan. Isolation speeds infection, remember? We’re stronger connected!”

Jonathan’s anguished eyes met hers, genuine sorrow piercing his plastic features. “Too late…for me. But…save yourselves.”

A sudden, sharp explosion of energy radiated outward, knocking Heather, Green, and Elaine to the ground. Heather groaned, struggling to push herself up. Her ears rang sharply, disoriented.

“Heather!” Elaine shouted desperately from beside her. “Look!”

Heather turned sharply, horror tightening her throat. Jonathan’s form was shimmering and had become translucent, a twisting convergence of luminous threads emanating from his body. Beyond him, a jagged fissure had appeared midair—a shimmering, impossible tear pulsating with otherworldly light. Through it, Heather glimpsed strange, writhing forms pressing through.

“They’re breaking through,” Green shouted, staggering to his feet. “Heather, what do we do?”

Heather stumbled upright, heart pounding fiercely. “We close the tear!”

“How?” Green shouted frantically.

Heather’s mind spun rapidly, eyes locked on Jonathan’s tortured figure. “Emotion! Connection! Jonathan said our emotional energy interferes. Maybe we can close it together!”

“Just by feeling?” Green questioned, terrified.

“By remembering who we are and holding onto it tighter than ever!” Heather said passionately. “It’s all we have left!”

Elaine nodded fiercely, her voice breaking. “Then we do it. Heather, will you lead us?”

Heather grabbed their hands tightly, stepping forward to confront the unnatural tear head-on. She took a deep, steadying breath, voice rising clearly above the chaos.

“My name is Heather Driscoll. I’m a nurse. I’ve dedicated my life to helping others, even when my own world was falling apart. I survived a painful divorce, loneliness, grief, but I never lost myself—not fully. I won’t lose myself now. I won’t let you take me.”

Elaine’s voice rose, trembling but clear. “My name’s Elaine Carter. I’m a mother. Lily and Max need me, and I’ll never stop fighting for them.”

Dr. Green’s voice was raw, emotional. “Aaron Green. A husband. A doctor. A man who loves his wife, who fears losing her more than anything. I won’t surrender.”

The tear shuddered violently, distorting, energy pulsating frantically. Heather spoke louder, defiantly:

“You can’t have us! Our pain, our love, our lives—they belong to us!”

Jonathan’s form flickered erratically, his voice emerging faintly, human and genuine one final time. “Yes…remember me. Please.”

“We remember you, Jonathan,” Heather said firmly, tears streaming down her face. “We will never forget.”

The tear began to shrink rapidly, its edges dissolving as their combined emotional energy radiated outward. Jonathan’s form faded slowly, peacefully dissolving into particles of light.

“Thank you,” his voice echoed softly, warmly, as he disappeared into gentle luminescence.

Heather, Elaine, and Green stood together, breathing heavily as the dimensional rift closed completely. Around them, the mannequin-like figures collapsed lifelessly to the floor, no longer animated, just empty shells once more.

Elaine let out a sobbing breath, gripping Heather’s arm tightly. “Is it over?”

Heather stared silently where Jonathan had vanished, her voice soft and uncertain. “I don’t know. But right now, we’re still here. And we’re still ourselves.”

Dr. Green exhaled shakily. “Then that’s enough. It has to be.”

Heather nodded slowly, exhausted but determined. She glanced at the shattered entrance, now quiet under darkened skies, the strange green glow fading gently.

But as they stood together, silently comforting each other, Heather felt a quiet, unsettling thought in the back of her mind:

Jonathan was just the first. But how many more worlds are out there, lost and lonely, drifting in the spaces between?

Part Five

Heather stepped carefully among the silent, motionless forms littering the waiting room. She knelt beside one, her fingers brushing its smooth, cold skin. It was inert now, entirely lifeless—a hollow, plastic shell.

“They’re all empty,” she murmured quietly. “Nothing left.”

Elaine joined her slowly, shivering despite the quiet. “Will they ever wake up?”

“I don’t think so,” Heather replied softly, standing again. “Whatever animated them vanished when we closed the tear.”

Dr. Green approached them cautiously, his eyes wide with disbelief. “It seems surreal. One minute they were alive, dangerous—and now they’re just…”

“Shells,” Heather finished for him, her voice weary but gentle. “We should move them somewhere safe. Carefully, just in case.”

“Agreed,” Green replied. “We’ll clear the clinic and keep it isolated until authorities arrive.”

Heather looked toward the shattered entrance doors, her expression grim. “Assuming they ever do.”

Elaine shook her head, anxiety flickering in her voice. “You think this is happening everywhere?”

Heather sighed deeply. “I honestly don’t know. But until we can contact someone outside Mercy Creek, we need to assume we’re on our own.”

Green nodded slowly. “We’ll manage. At least we know how to fight it.”

Heather looked thoughtfully at him. “Jonathan said connection protects us. It’s our best defense. Maybe our only one.”

Elaine glanced around the devastated waiting room, her voice shaky. “How do we even begin to explain this?”

Heather met her gaze, speaking clearly. “We tell the truth. Exactly what happened, no matter how unbelievable it sounds. People need to know what we learned—about isolation, connection, and emotional vulnerability.”

Dr. Green sighed softly, glancing toward the hallways. “I’ll start documenting the details. Every piece of evidence, every observation we have.”

“Good,” Heather agreed, looking again at the still bodies. “I’ll help Elaine move them. We’ll keep them in one place—respectfully. After all, these were our neighbors.”

Elaine nodded quietly. “They deserved better than this.”

Heather placed a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “They did. But we’re still here, and that means we have a chance to make sure no one else faces this.”

Together, Heather and Elaine carefully lifted the first inert body—Marjorie Pierce. They carried her to a back room, placing her carefully on a bed and covering her respectfully with a sheet. Heather lingered a moment, sadness weighing heavily in her chest.

“I’m sorry, Marjorie,” she whispered softly. “We’ll never forget you.”

Elaine stood quietly beside her, fighting tears. “Do you think their souls are still trapped somewhere?”

Heather took a deep breath, thoughtful and sincere. “I think their souls moved on when the tear closed. At least, that’s what I want to believe.”

They returned to the waiting room and continued methodically, treating each former resident gently, speaking quiet words of remembrance. Hours passed, the eerie green glow faded entirely, replaced by the muted colors of dawn filtering through the broken windows.

At last, Heather stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The world around Mercy Creek Clinic appeared quiet, unnaturally still. She glanced upward—no strange lights or anomalies, just clear skies tinted orange and gold with sunrise.

Dr. Green joined her quietly. “Communications are coming back slowly. Sheriff Barnes called from the county office—apparently, this was localized. Authorities are en route.”

Heather turned sharply. “Localized? Mercy Creek was the only place?”

Green’s expression tightened thoughtfully. “They mentioned similar electromagnetic disturbances elsewhere, but no reported infections. It seems we experienced the worst of it.”

“Why here?” Heather asked softly, scanning the horizon. “Why Mercy Creek?”

Green shook his head. “Who knows? Maybe our isolation made us vulnerable. Or maybe it was just chance.”

Heather crossed her arms, shivering slightly against the morning chill. “Jonathan said they found him drifting, alone, between worlds. What if loneliness and isolation opened that dimensional tear?”

Green studied her, her expression deeply thoughtful. “Then Mercy Creek, a quiet town full of quiet lives—lonely lives—made a perfect target.”

Heather nodded slowly, her voice quiet but firm. “We can’t let that happen again. We have to remember this.”

The faint sound of approaching sirens broke the morning stillness, signaling the return of the outside world. Elaine stepped outside, exhausted but hopeful. “Heather, help is coming.”

Heather smiled faintly, relief mingling with unease. “Good. Let’s meet them and explain everything. And let’s hope they listen.”

As vehicles approached, Heather turned to Green and Elaine, speaking firmly, her resolve unwavering. “We survived because we trusted each other. No matter what comes next, we remember that.”

They nodded, comforted by her quiet strength.

A government vehicle pulled into the parking lot, followed by emergency vehicles, personnel stepping out cautiously. Heather approached first, voice calm, professional, clear:

“I’m Nurse Heather Driscoll. There’s a lot to explain.”

And explain she did—every detail, no matter how impossible it sounded. The agents listened skeptically at first, then with increasing gravity, as evidence was collected and carefully documented.

As authorities took control of the scene, Heather found herself standing alone again, watching quietly from the sidelines.

Elaine approached her, voice soft. “You think they believe us?”

Heather exhaled slowly. “I think they believe something extraordinary happened. Whether they accept the details—who knows?”

Elaine smiled weakly. “Heather, if you hadn’t held us together—”

Heather interrupted gently. “We held each other together. Don’t forget that. Our connection saved us.”

Elaine squeezed Heather’s hand tightly. “Then we won’t forget. Not ever.”

Heather smiled softly, exhaustion washing over her. “Good.”

Elaine moved away quietly, joining the growing crowd of authorities and investigators. Heather lingered a moment longer, watching the distant mountains silhouetted against the rising sun.

From behind her came a familiar voice—soft, almost inaudible, yet distinct.

“Thank you, Heather.”

Heather spun around quickly, heart skipping a beat. She stood completely alone, yet felt Jonathan’s gentle presence one final time.

“Jonathan?” she whispered, eyes filling with tears. “Are you there?”

Only silence answered her question, but warmth lingered briefly around her, unmistakable.

“I won’t forget you,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

Heather straightened slowly, composing herself, and turned to join her friends. Behind her, unseen and intangible, the air shimmered faintly—a delicate ripple, nearly invisible, there one moment, gone the next.

But Heather, walking away determinedly, didn’t see it.

Yet.