Doomsday

Sara Green

                Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. My Buzz Lightyear sneaker bounces off the ground in an anxious flurry, adrenaline coursing through me at an unwarranted rate that matched the flashing lights of my shoes. A sterile scent wafted through the air as each set of double doors opened and closed in a gust of air, drawing my attention to a woman whose uniform stretched to their best ability, and then some to facilitate her form. Her form was one I could only equate in presence to that of Cerberus, letting me know I had arrived at the gates of Hell. Her hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail, so tightly that it almost seemed to be attempting to pull the woman’s skin back a good ten years or so; it failed at its job miserably. The rest of the tail hung in a stiff bunch of hay down to the middle of her back, unmoving as her body swayed from one foot to the other while she walked. The florescent lights cast shadows over her face that epitomized just how tired she was, hanging dark shadows from her waterlines drooping to a point almost adjacent to the tip of her nose. Acrylic talons tapped on a brown clipboard that seemed to have been dropped one too many times, glancing down and squinting in a way that portrayed a resentment for the paper itself for forcing any strain upon her.

Clearing whatever foul creature that had lived there from her throat, she raised her voice “Jonathan Fisher” she growled, swiveling her head around in a way that made me wonder whether or not I should have brought my crucifix and holy water. Standing on shaky legs, I approached her and nodded my head in surrender, hoping she would have mercy on my soul. With a swift dip of her head and a flick of her wrist, she motioned for me to follow her into the lion’s den.

If at all possible, I think the lights might have been even brighter through the doors, leaving no shadows to inhabit the white halls. The squeak of the nurses shoes became a steady pattern, almost that of a ticking on a time bomb, just waiting to ensue my demise. The bleak walls of this institution stretch for miles in every direction, towering above me to the point I felt they may collapse inward. Yet I straightened my three foot seven and a quarter frame and puffed out my chest. I would be a man soon, I needed to be strong. Before long, the nurse pulled up outside an equally pristine room, her bulbous eyes rounding toward me, immediately turning me to stone. Flicking towards the doorway with a steely glare, she motioned me inside, now standing in the way of any possible freedom I might have pursued.

 “Alright, wait in here, get yourself situated, the doctor will be in soon” and with that, she skulked out of the room, leaving me with one resounding ‘click’ of the door. I stood there, staring at the infamous chair that was placed strategically in the center of the room, facing in a direction that made a clear shot to the door impossible. I expertly took a running start and threw my body on to the edge of the seat, clawing my way up to a sitting position settled into the crinkling paper, echoing the crumbling of my hope. I spot a green figure on the spotted linoleum floor and realize I have lost one of my men. A green army man lies beneath me, fallen to his demise and sealed with the cold kiss of death.

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes when suddenly, the door handle turns with a satisfying ‘click’. An older man sweeps into the room, his coat trailing behind him like a villain’s cape. His spectacles enlarged his eyes, magnifying his irises to the size I would expect of a basilisk. I wish they were truly of that serpent, for then I would already be dead, and not have to face the torment and anguish to come. Circling around me, his body hunches over the far counter, most likely cleaning the blood off his instruments of torture that still bear the evidence of his last visitor. “Hello Jonathan, how are you today?”. His voice seems to carry sarcasm, but if so it is hard to hear over the malice that blares from it. Deciding to steel my resolve, I say nothing, merely clenching my jaw and looking down toward the floor, my arms folding across my chest in fervid determination. One of my laces had come undone, and now dangled from the edge of the chair, taunting me with its rebellious freedom. The walls of the room attempted to instill comfort in me, to make me feel at ease with their bright SpongeBob decals. That cheeky bastard was mocking me. I refused to be fooled by their attempts at hospice. If I needed to face my maker, I would do so with dignity. Crinkling the paper, I shifted my weight to lean forward slightly, my spine hunched forward in an unconsciously defensive pose, probably causing the man to delight in the face of my discomfort.

Settling down what he had been fiddling with, his lithe and decrepit body turned to face me, “Alright Jonathan, let me just get some… assistance and we will begin momentarily”. Stepping into the hallway, serious conversation diminished into whispers through the door, causing my senses to strain in picking up their voices. Before I was given a chance to decipher their plan, the door opened up, revealing the man in white and the woman from before. In a quick movement, she circled around and grabbed my arms, pinning me helplessly to the chair. Despite my He-Man-like strength, I was helpless. The man disappeared to the corner as my breath became labored, and I fought with all my might to remove that demon’s sparkly claws from my untarnished; but it was to no avail. A scuffling sound turned into a clang, as the metal tray placed on the counter clattered to the ground. I cried out in fear, beginning to feel panic well up inside me. The end of my time was near, and I needed to make my peace. Walking around to the front of the chair, a blur of white came to rest in front of me, his sickly sweet smile making me want to regurgitate my dinosaur chicken nuggets. However, I will not, because they were delicious with a piquant apple juice.

“Now Jonathan, remain calm, it will all be over before you know it”; and with that, he went in for the kill. The man reached down, his meaty and calloused hands fumbling with my sleeve as he attempted to push my Spider Man shirt up my arm. He swiped at my arm with a cold and shocking substance, sending a shiver down my spine. A stabbing pain shot through me as the needle pierced my flesh, watching as the plunger receded into the vial.

Laying my head back, I turned my eyes to the light above my head, feeling its brightness begin to engulf me. The venom had begun coursing through my veins, that much I was sure of; and from the pain I felt in my arm, it was sure to bring agony. Feeling a coolness settle on my cheeks, I was surprised to find saltwater stinging at my taste buds as it carved a trail down my cheeks. Memories flooded back to me. I imagined times spent with my friends, those days of endless fun as we reveled in the summer sun. Visions of my family flashed before my eyes; images of my mother and her endearing smile, my father’s face as he throws his head back in laughter, my sister as she cries on the floor after I pushed her down. All of this brings peace to me, making me feel as if a warm blanket had settled over me. I could feel content well up in me as I closed my eyes.

I felt pressure release from my arms, leaving them to fall limply at my sides. The squeaking of shoes snapped my mind out of its stupor and urged my eyelids apart. Glancing around, the doctor tossed the needle into the trash to be discarded before walking over towards the sink. He thanked the woman as she circled around me, her nails clawing at the waistband of her scrubs before unceremoniously exiting the room. Taking a starch-white paper towel from the stack, the doctor wiped the beads of water that glistened on his hands as his legs carried his looming form towards me. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out something my eyes were not fast enough to catch, holding it behind his back as he came closer, closer. Craning his neck down, his serpent like eyes examined me, his face painted with a Cheshire smile so grand that even the Joker would be envious. Tilting his head, his tongue slithered out to lick his lips slightly before he spoke “Wonderful job Jonathan, you took that flu shot like a real trooper!” he cooed, my arms crossing my chest with an excited huff of air. I turned my head from him, not wanting to look at his stupid face any longer. However, my eyes were drawn back by a peek of red caught in my peripherals. Held out in front of the doctor was a red lollipop, covered perfectly in the shiniest wrapper I had ever laid eyes on. While I didn’t trust the doctor in the least, I felt that his gift of reconciliation could be accepted for consideration. My hand reached out above me, pulling the candy from his vice-like grasp as I inspected it with longing. While doing so, the doctor was able to appropriately dress my wound, covering it in the only bandage I find acceptable: a Batman Band-Aid.

Once the feeble man had his hands off me, I sprinted towards my only form of escape. My hands stretched out in front of me and closed around the cool metal of the door handle, yanking it open to create my path of freedom. The white walls blurred around me as I prayed desperately that I knew where I was going, otherwise there was no way I would be lucky enough to survive a second time. Suddenly, the two double doors came into view, my golden gates to paradise. I threw my weight into the center and sent them flying open in the same gust of air that they had closed with before. Swiveling my head around madly, my eyes settled on a familiar face that made me near hysterical with joy. “Mommy!” I cried out, lunging at her as my weight flopped on her lap. My arms clasped around her chest and my legs wrapped around her midsection, refusing to be separated from her again as long as I live. Her arms circle around me lovingly “Awe, my poor boy. Did the flu shot hurt?” I was nearly flabbergasted at the mere ignorance of the question. It damn well hurt, thanks for asking. But all I could manage in that moment and with my limited vocabulary was a mere nod and whimper. She stood up, throwing her overloaded purse on her shoulder and adjusting my weight with her other arm “Okay Jonny, let’s go get you some ice cream, yeah?” For now, that sounded like a good way to begin apologizing for sending me in like a sacrificial lamb for slaughter. As she turned toward the door to leave, I saw a person standing in the doors behind her. With his same sickly smile, the doctor waved at me “Bye Jonathan, see you next time!” His voice echoed hauntingly in my head the whole ride to the ice cream shop.