The Panacea

Hello, lovies.

That tremor in your hands? That's the Panacea.

The uncontrollable cough? That's the Panacea.

The vomiting, the loss of bowel control, the bleeding from your ears? That's the Panacea.  Incredibly virulent with a survival rate of a little over twenty-five percent.

The Clean will be spared. The Filthy will be scoured.

The Doctor wants us all to be healthy.

  

 THE END

Dinner with Terri

Hello, lovies

I forgot to tell anyone in my family that I'd lost my hand.  Whoops.  I told Terri some lie, I don't remember.  I don't really think she bought it, but who's going to argue with a cripple?  Not my polite and perfect sister, that's for sure.

Terri's fiance is a jackass. It was all I could do to smile and nod while I felt the filth crawling all over him. I gave him the heart weakness I stole from the patient I saw earlier today. Terri is still awkward around me, and that still hurts. But I have to put that aside, I have a job to do.

Terri has a pathology internship at the CDC, I think I mentioned that before. Today she mentioned the project she's working on, and I knew why the Doctor wanted me to establish a connection with her. She's working on something called Panacea.  I asked if I could have lunch with her one of these days.  I should be able to work in a tour of the facility.

Are we connecting the pieces of the puzzle yet?

Chore Is Dead

I watched firemen break into Chore's apartment today. Then a little while later, somebody from the city came in and wheeled out a body bag. That's when I realized... The body doesn't always let you know when it's about to break. There isn't always a convenient bile-spewing alarm. Sometimes it's invisible. Like Mrs. K.'s blood clot.

On a possibly un-related note, I find I don't need to sleep much anymore.  And I'm not hungry either.  The coldness of my room actually feels nice.  It reminds me of an operating room.  Clean.  Clinical.

I think I'm going to go scrub the floors some more.  It takes longer now, with one hand.  I can't use my stump yet, the stitches seep with blood if I put too much pressure on them.  I think I might try and cauterize it with the oven if it doesn't stop soon.  Don't worry about me, lovies.  It's just a small bit of pain to make sure I stay healthy for the days ahead.

Fun Facts

Fun fact: Sodium thiosulfate neutralizes chlorine.

Second fun fact: Chlorine is commonly used to ensure drinking water stays clean.

Third fun fact: Dad's water plant stores the neutralizer conveniently close to the final distribution point for the upper west side of the city.

Fourth fun fact: The Doctor loves us all and wants us all to be healthy.

I'm not sure why he wants me to talk to Terri yet, but I'm sure I'll find out soon.  I'll be going to dinner with her and her fiance on Friday.

Helping Hand

Ever since I broke his nose, Chore has stayed inside.  I haven't seen him answer the door, not even for the injured people who come to see him.

He left his stupid doctor's bag over here.  So I've been helping them.  And while I'm helping, I'm experimenting.  Drawing the disease from one.  Pushing it into another.  Brain tumors.  Pancreatic cancer.  Lyme disease.

Nothing immediate, though.  I don't want to have to get rid of the body.  I've been really lucky that no one's come around asking questions about the guy from Thursday.  Thursday?  Wednesday?  I've lost my routine.  The days blur into each other now.  It seems strange that it's only been a month since the Doctor started talking to me.  (Hi, Doc.)  I feel like I've been under Its care for a lifetime.

Phantom Hand

The hand the Doctor gave me is a pure hand. I can't see it, but I can feel it there. And with my new hand, I have a new job now, a new purpose.  The Doctor has charged me with a duty; I am to bring out the sickness.  I am a cure, your cure.

Hello, lovies. I'm about to start the next step of the Doctor's plan.  First things first, need to get in Terri's good graces again.  There's something of hers that I need.  This hand of his is good for one-on-one use, but there's only so much one woman can do.  I haven't met her fiance yet, I think I'll ask them to dinner so I can meet the man who wants to marry my baby sister.

I'm also going to have to ask for a tour at Dad's plant. There's more than one water treatment plant, it's a fairly big city, but all I need is to start the wave.

See a Penny, Pick it Up

Clean.  The world must be made clean.  Scrub it, scrub the world.  Clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it clean it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it cure it
ALL

CURE

THE

WORLD 

OF 

THIS

FILTH 

(Hi, Doc)

 The people, they are responsible, they create the filth, always the fucking filth factories must leave this place must end them, shut them down because they will never, ever stop.

Whimper as you must as you like whimper as you must because you won't get a bang.   

The Doctor is coming (Hi, Doc) The Doctor comes (Hi, Doc) The Doctor will cure us all (please, Doc, give me a cure).

The end is coming.  The Doctor will save you.  (Prepare for The Doctor).   

In for a Penny

what the hell what the hell what the hell

I got a ride to the hospital from the super, my hand wrapped up in a towel to keep dirt from getting in the boils.  But when I unwrapped it for the nurse, she couldn't see what was wrong!  I told her I was attacked by Chore, and she kept asking if he had a knife.  No, he didn't have the knife, I had the knife.  He didn't cut me, I cut me.  I had to get the infection out.  There, there, don't you see it?  It's right there, a handprint of plague where he grabbed me!  God, you stupid cunt, why can't you see what's right in front of your eyes?  No, I don't want a fucking sedative!  No, get your hands off me!  Get away, you're filthy, you vile, disgusting things!  Get that needle away from me, I don't want whatever you're trying to give me, it'll just make things worse! I want my doctor, where is my doctor, where's Doctor Hohenheim?

Don't you hear me?  I said get your hands off me!

I'm refusing medical treatment, do you hear me?  You've got no right to stick that needle in me!  I want to talk to my doctor!

Hi, Doc.

Hello my pretty Penny.

Can you help, please?  The nurse is being a rat-faced bitch.

Oh you poor thing.  Look at how filthy your hand is.

Please, fix it!

Don't worry, my shiny Penny.  I will remove the filth from you.  And in return....  You will help me, won't you?

I promise I'll follow the doctor's orders, I'll take the medicine no matter how bitter.

Of course you will.

Please just fix it, make me better, heal me, make me whole and untarnished again.

Hold still now.

I just don't want to be broken any more.

See a Penny, Let it Lay

Oh god my hand hurts so bad where he grabbed it.  I can see the boils forming in the shape of his fingers.  That, right there, that break in the fucking pus-filled crater of my hand, that's the fucker's life-line.  This hurts just to type, I have to do the whole thing one-handed.

It smells gangrenous, I have to see a doctor as soon as possible, I have to get this thing fixed RIGHT GODDAMNED NOW.  I need to lance the boils before I go. Where's that scalpel from my door?

The Oathbreaker

Chore and I had a fight. Then things got...weird.

He was helping this guy who had been stabbed with some kind of sharpened stick. Chore had helped him before, but apparently there was an infection. Not surprising, considering Chore's lack of dedication to basic sanitation skills.

Anyway, so Chore helped this guy in and lays him down on my floor. I folded his hoodie into a pillow for him and saw this weird symbol like a circle around an 'x'. I think I might have seen Chore wandering around with that symbol drawn on his scrubs, too.

Chore's method of anesthesia is to get his patients rip-roaring drunk. Stupid git didn't realize that thins the blood. This guy was lying on my floor, Chore was setting up his instruments, and when he made the first cut through the anterior abdominal wall, the pressure started.

“Whazzat?” The guy on my floor started bleeding from his ears. The antiseptic smell, the voices, a shimmering in the corner of my eye.

I reached out for his forehead, and Chore grabbed my hand.

“What are you doing, you crazy bitch?”

I wanted to scream, to cry, to tell him that I didn't know what was going on, to rail against this compulsion. Instead, all I said was: “Filth.”

The mark on Chore's forehead turned bright red and he screamed and grabbed his head. The drunk guy between us laughed and pointed. “Oathbreaker!”

“Filth.”

“I'm not!” Chore yelled, falling back on his ass and scooting across the room into the nearest corner.

The stranger sat up, clutching his stomach, but it didn't keep his intestines from spilling out. The odor of decay fought with the antiseptic smell for dominance. “You missed your chance, Choroba.”

He cowered in the corner, hiding his face in his arms. The voices in my mind clamored, pushing me to my feet. Maybe it was the constant exposure over the past week that enabled me to move while everyone else was pinned down. I stepped over the stranger and staggered to Chore's side. I reached for him and-

Chore grabbed my hand again. Gripped it so tight that the metacarpals ground together. Spat in my face. “Don't touch me!”

The shimmering behind me was empowering me. I was invincible while the Doctor stood at my back.

“Filth!” I grabbed Chore's shirt and pulled him forward with all my strength, slamming my forehead into his nose. Behind me I could hear the stranger laughing. Chore bubbled nonsense through blood and snot, letting me go to hold his broken nose.

“Oathbreaker! Oathbreaker! Take your medicine, Oathbreaker!” The stranger chanted as I shoved Chore out the door and slammed it in his face.

The stranger fell back on the floor when the door closed, as if a switch had been flipped. I went back and knelt at his side, but he had gone into septic shock. There was nothing I could do for him exept use the hoodie as a makeshift bandage keep his insides as insides, not outsides.  I dragged him out of my place and laid him in front of Chore's door.  I pulled a ding-dong-ditch with the guy, I'll admit it.  He was just walking dead at that point anyway.

As soon as I returned to my apartment, I collapsed against the front door. I could feel the blood pouring out of my ears, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even wipe the spit off my face. Through the mugginess in my head, my only thought was that I was going to have to clean for hours when I woke up.

My hand is killing me. I didn't think he could be that strong. I think he might have fractured something.

One a Penny, Two a Penny, Hot Cross Buns!

Ms. Suzie had a steamboat,
the steamboat had a bell!
Ms. Suzie went to heaven,
the steamboat went to-

Hello Operator,
give me No. 9!
And if you disconnect me,
I'll chop off your-

Behind the 'fridgerator,
there is a piece of glass!
Suzie sat upon it,
and broke her little-

Ask me no more questions,I'll tell you no more lies!
The doctor's in the room now,
Watching with his glass-

Eyes on my hand now,
I'll show you a new trick!
I killed that fat old bastard,
Made him really sick,
sick,
SICK,
SICK,
SICK.

No pithy title here, I'm too confused.

That fat old bastard is dead now. He's dead and I should feel bad but I don't because he was a pathetic waste of flesh. I had enough with his stupid lewd remarks and I snapped back at him. He grabbed me and started to shake, his face turning red and spewing crumbs in my face.  I was like a little broken doll in his hands until it came back. 

You don't have to take this from him, Penny.

The pressure built up, and he let me go to grab his head. Blood dripped from his nose and his ears. I could feel that presence behind me and before I knew what I was doing I reached up and brushed my finger over his forehead. I drew the symbol from the note. The Doctor's symbol.  (Hi, Doc) 

That was all, but he collapsed onto the floor. Twitching and spasming in the throes of a grand mal seizure. I ran for the phone and called 911, but by the time the ambulance got there he was barely breathing. I rode with him to the hospital, but after a couple of hours the doctor came and told me that he was gone.

I don't know if he has any family to contact. He seemed like the kind of person who never had any friends, just folks he saw often and talked at because they were too polite to walk away.

Now get ready for the freak-out.

I killed a guy. I can't explain how I did it, but the whispers at the corner of my mind told me to draw that symbol and I used it to kill a guy. It's related to the seizures somehow, that inhuman presence that comes every time I feel that terrible pressure.

Has constant exposure to bleach given me super powers?

That's dumb. Sorry. Sorry, I just, the whole black humor thing. Not one of my better qualities.

Chore wants my help again later today. I'm going to charge him double. Hopefully I can replace the income lost from Randy's death. God, that sounds bad. I'm a terrible person. I'm really hoping this thing isn't a Midas Touch bit. I don't want to kill Chore's patient, he does a fine job of that on his own.  Is it bad that I'm hoping It shows up again?  Every time It does, I feel one step closer to figuring out what the hell is going on.

A Note on the Door

When I got home from work, there was a note pinned to my door.

With a fucking scalpel.

It said

THE DOCTOR 

WILL SEE  

SEES 

YOU 

NOW

What the hell?

My Hands are Shaking

I crashed right after I finished cleaning the kitchen.  But I still woke up at noon, which means I only got a couple of hours of sleep.  I can't believe what happened.  But there's a black trash bag filled with bloody paper towels and other crap in my kitchen and three hundred rust-stained dollars on my counter and I'm almost out of bleach again. 

And that...thing.  What the hell was that thing behind me?  Where did it come from?  Why did Chore back down when he saw it?  Why couldn't I turn around to see it?  Don't tell me the answer to that one, I know it already.

I was scared shitless.

But It's disappearing from my head now.  Like my mind can't wrap itself around what happened.  Maybe I did turn around.  Maybe I did see It and I just can't comprehend whatever It was that I saw. 

Something strange is happening.  Almost every day now there's this terrible pressure in my apartment, like I'm at the bottom of the ocean.  Sometimes when it happens, I see a.... thing in surgical scrubs.  I've stopped passing out, but my vision still goes black.

Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning I hear whispers.

Ignoring it isn't making it go away.  What am I supposed to do?  I never thought I'd miss my cell.

A Present on the Doorstep

I finally found out Chore's secret, the reason he gets regular deliveries from that medical supply company.  He's offering unlicensed medical care for folks who can't afford to go to the hospital.

I found this out because one of his patients was on my doorstep when I came home from work today.  I walked up and he rolls his head back because he obviously can't lift it and says "Chore Oboe?"  But he's too out of it to actually respond when I tell him he's got the wrong person.  And he's too fucking heavy to haul over to Chore's door, who at this point I don't even know if he's in right now, so against my better judgement, I drag him into my kitchen.  At the time, I just thought he was a drunk friend, he looked like he was on the verge of passing out, but there didn't seem to be anything really wrong with him.

I knocked on Chore's door (hammered, really, I was pissed and tired and just wanted to go to sleep) and luckily the bastard was home.  He wasn't too happy that his friend had landed on my door and I wasn't happy about it either, fuck you very much.

Until we got back to my place and there's a huge dark patch of....something on the front of his jacket now.  Chore took one look at him, then turned to me and this is no shit what he said:

"I'll give you three hundred dollars to let me use your kitchen for an hour."

That's my rent for the month plus utilities.  He left me with the now bleeding man, then came back with an old-fashioned doctor's bag.

A tattoo on his forehead and a doctor's bag?  What kind of guy does he think he is?  Fucking ridiculous is what he is.

Yet there he was, saving a guy's life on my kitchen floor.  I don't know how long it really took, it was definitely longer than an hour, but I stood there and watched him operate.  The sharp smell of blood, the pained groans, the light glinting off the needle, the-

Are you fucking kidding me?  Even an idiot like me knew that if you're going to be operating on someone, you need to clean your shit up first.  Before he finished threading the needle, I pulled it out of his hands and grabbed the bleach from under the counter.  Not the best choice, but seeing as how he hadn't brought anything with him-

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  Chore loomed over me, light shining off a sharp blade in his hand.  Suddenly it looked more like a weapon and less like a tool.  No...  not in his hand.  It was his hand.  His finger.  Oh fuck.

I was ready to chuck the bottle of bleach at his head and run...but the smell of antiseptic started to push away the scent of blood.  A flash of white in the corner of my eye.  A...beak?  I couldn't turn around to see, I didn't want to turn around.  I didn't want to see whatever it was behind me.  The pressure in the room was intense, it hurt to breathe.

Chore's eyes flicked over to the....thing at my shoulder, then the scalpel wasn't a scalpel anymore, it was his finger.  He stepped back and held out his now normal hand for the needle.  The pressure went back to normal and I gasped in a deep breath.  I think he did the same, but he hid it better than I did.

"Gloves."

"Fuck you, I don't have any gloves."

"You moron."  Luckily I kept a box next to the cleaning supplies.  Bleach is hell on the skin.

Hell, he was already pissed off, and he was afraid to do anything to me thanks to the...it.  So I went for the gold.  "And I think your tattoo is stupid, too."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he just shook his head and pulled on the gloves.  I crouched down next to him and kept an eye on him in case he pulled the same stunt again.  After a few minutes, he started asking for my help, which to be honest, was kind of cool.

We were there until well past dawn when Chore finally finished.  The jerk tossed the dirty gloves onto the floor, then pulled three hundred in cash out of his wallet and threw it right in the middle of the dirty bloody towels.  Fucker.  He hauled his friend into a fireman's carry and walked out the door without so much as a goodbye.

Not that I wanted anything more to do with him, but, you know, basic fucking manners is all I ask.  Since it's now 7 o'clock in the morning and I still have to clean up my kitchen.

Doctor's Appointment

There was something I was supposed to talk about with the Doc today.  (Hi, Doc.)  Couldn't remember it.  I was too distracted by the news.  Dr. Ramazzini is dead.  There's a new Doc, Dr. Hohenheim.

There was a moment where it looked like he was wearing a bird mask, like from pictures of the Carnival in Venice.  Man, I'd love to go to Venice.  Then he was just this normal guy with a remarkable resemblance to Carl Jung.  (Hence why I remarked on it.  It was remarkable.  Ignore me, I'm getting punchy because I actually ate something other than noodles today.)

I wish I'd been seeing Dr. Hohenheim this whole time.  He's great, absolutely great.  "You're right to be worried about germs.  Do you know how dirty the average kitchen counter is?"  (Yes, yes I do.)  "You need to learn to stand on your own feet.  Do you want to live the rest of your life mooching off someone?"  (No, no I don't.)  "Looks like Dr. Ramazzini was really hard on you.  Well you can talk about whatever you want to, no need to push any buttons here."  Like I said, he's a great guy.  And he said not to worry about coming in for any more appointments, I'm "a perfectly normal, emotionally stable adult."

I even splurged on a couple of things from the dollar menu, so my stomach's full and I'm sitting pretty.

Hello, Penny.  The Doctor will be with you in a moment.

Nothing

Fuck, I'm hungry.  Finished the casserole yesterday.  It's been just noodles since then.  Penny was not meant live on noodles alone.   I'd do anything for some food right now.

The seizures happen about once a day now.  They're starting to get shorter, though.  And today I didn't even bleed...much.

I think there's some kind of cold going around.  Everyone around me won't stop sneezing.  On my way home from work the other day, someone sneezed on me in the subway.  My skin wouldn't stop crawling.  I had to take a two hour long shower when I got home.

The funny thing is, Randy couldn't get out a single insult.  Every time he tried, he'd go into a sneezing fit.  It was great.  Something like this:

"Penny, you should find a man who-ACHOO!"

"Bless you.

"A man who'll-ACHOO"

"Bless you."

"Penny, you should-ACHOO ACHOO ACHOOOO"

"Bless you."

"Pen-ACHOOO"

"Bless you.  Hey, Randy, your nose is bleeding a little."

"Oh shi-ACHOO-t I just ACHOO bought thi-ACHOO-s shirt yes-ACHOO PHWACHOO PHWACHOOO"  The last sneezing fit was so hard that he fell on his ass.

I didn't even mind cleaning up the blood and the snot.  Just watching Randy's dumb ass collapse like that made my night.