Chapter: Blue's Rescue
My hands rolled off the dusty rubber gloves, tossing them into the short cupboard by the shack. I gently pushed the doors closed, careful not to wake the sleeping animal inside.
Janet, my assistant nurse, grabbed the bucket of bloodied water while I gathered the rest of my medical supplies. The night air was thick with the scent of hay and antiseptic, the quiet hum of crickets filling the silence between us.
We walked toward the front porch of the farmhouse, where Mr. Michael sat hunched over, elbows propped on his knees, his fist pressed against his mouth. His wrinkled forehead was lined with worry as his wife, Marilyn, murmured soft reassurances beside him.
The sight warmed my heart—Blue, his pregnant horse, wasn't just an animal to him. She was family.
Noticing my approach, Mr. Michael immediately shot to his feet, closing the distance between us in hurried strides.
"Is she okay? How's the baby? I feel so bad, this is all my fault," he bombarded me with questions, his voice thick with guilt.
I offered him a small smile. "Both mother and baby are stable. She got hit pretty badly, but there's no internal bleeding. She just needs rest for a few days."
His shoulders sagged with relief.
"I'll prescribe some medication for her, and I strongly advise you to fix that fence. You don't want any more accidents," I added.
He nodded vigorously before grasping my hand. "I swear, this won't happen again. Thank you, Dr. Niccolo."
I flinched slightly at the name, still not entirely used to hearing it.
"It's nothing, sir. Just doing my job."
As I spoke, the sound of deliberate, heavy footsteps echoed from the wooden porch. I turned my head just in time to see a man stepping out from the house.
He was tall, dressed in a crisp white button-up and well-worn denim jeans. His blonde hair cascaded loosely past his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto me. There was something unsettling about the way he stared—too focused, too knowing.
A cold shiver prickled my skin.
He smiled. I forced a nervous grin in return before quickly shifting my attention back to Mr. Michael.
"Your son?" I asked, gesturing toward the man.
Mr. Michael stiffened. His expression darkened as he turned to glance at him. His hands curled into tight fists, a reaction so visceral it made my stomach knot.
"Yeah… something like that," he muttered, his voice strained.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to choke on.
Sensing I had stepped into something I wasn't meant to, I chose not to press further.
"I'll be on my way, then," I said, stepping back.
Mr. Michael exhaled sharply, seemingly relieved, and thanked me again, walking me to the car where Janet was already waiting.
I had barely settled into the passenger seat when my eyes flicked toward the side mirror.
And I saw him.
Only… he wasn't the same.
His blue eyes were still there, but his face—his face—was rotting. Flesh sagged in sickly folds, gray and peeling like old parchment. His mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin, revealing jagged brown teeth, too many to fit inside a human jaw.
My breath hitched. My pulse pounded violently in my ears.
I squeezed my eyes shut. No. No, I didn't see that. I'm just tired. I imagined it.
"I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything," I whispered to myself, gripping my seatbelt so tightly my knuckles turned white.
The car jerked forward as Janet pulled onto the dirt road. I forced myself to keep my eyes forward, refusing to glance back.
The hum of the engine should have been comforting, but my body remained rigid, every nerve screaming.
The next thing I knew, Janet was jabbing my wrist.
I blinked rapidly, startled by the sudden contact.
"Ma'am, we're here," she said dryly, her tone laced with impatience.
I looked outside. We were parked in front of the institute.
Had I… blacked out?
Janet scoffed under her breath before stepping out, slamming the driver's door shut behind her.
I exhaled shakily, running a hand down my face before fumbling with my seatbelt. As I stepped onto solid ground, the eerie feeling from earlier still clung to me, refusing to be shaken off.
Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
And I couldn't explain why.
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