ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Invasion of the Body Snatchers

Vignette - Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Dramatis Personae Sergio
In Absentia	2015-12-05 "{We’re gonna help you, Tiffany.}" (Part of Zombie TP.)
Location Mount Sinai Hospital - Traumatic Brain Injury Research Center
Save for the steady gentle beeping of life support machines, the hospital room is quiet. Four beds have been brought in, each with its own slumbering body connected to its own system of life support tubes. There is only one window, which looks out onto the limitless expanse of a limestone wall. Nurse Hirsch’s clothing swishes as she makes her rounds. Her scrubs are pale jade and compliment her dark complexion. Snowflakes dot her top as a pleasant seasonal touch and match well with the white thermal she wears underneath. Hair pulled back from her round maternal face. “{How are we doing today, Mrs. Wrinkles?}” She asks the comatose old woman as she stretches her arm over to check on something. Involved in a study of the varying degrees of telepathic assault and its effects, all four of these particular patients are on the more extreme end of the spectrum. They have been void of brain activity for some time. Unlike the other participants in the study, there is little to no hope for recovery for these individuals whatsoever. Naturally, the study was placed on hold in light of the recent draw of medical resources, and so these four lie in wait. Only a caretaker involved in their day-to-day, Hirsch has made up personalities and lives for them all. On occasion, she fantasizes that they socialize together, like the members of a support group. Moseying her way away from the door, the woman lifts her phone out from where it’s hidden in her shirt. Her eyes dart down to scan over the gambling app she’s left open. The way she holds onto the device, her thumb turns up the ringer volume to max and as she fumbles to lower it, the cell vibrates with a call from one of her creditors. A nod to Hirsch’s life outside of the workplace, Beyonce’s ‘Ring the Alarm’ erupts in full volume. Shocked, she drops it into the upturned linens of one of the bedding in front of her. “Shit! Fuck! Goddamn it!” She slips, hissing the series of curses in English as she fumbles to retrieve the new iPhone 6. She only succeeds in losing it further as the ringtone continues to blast. Triggered by the string of curses, a pair of eyes snap open -- blind with rage. In the tiny window’s glass, she catches movement. The machines notice too, and their beeping becomes more frantic. Hirsch spins around on her heel in time to block the incoming attack with her forearm. She let’s out a squeal as the teenage girl from bed #4 takes a fat bite out of her. “{Help!}” Hirsch grabs a firm handful of the girl’s hay-colored hair and yanks her back, to which the girl responds by taking out a fistful of the nurse’s weave. She uses her all of her strength to force the previously comatose patient back onto the bed. “{Help! Help!}” Despite the girl’s considerable motor function limitations, the pair still exchanges an escalating series of slapstick-like blows. For nearly two solid minutes, the girl continues to comically slip out of Hirsch’s grasp to slap, scratch, or bite at the woman. Twice her size and mental capacity, she eventually does subdue the girl. Her hands hold the teen’s arms down as she straddles over her small, viciously flailing body. With the squeaking of sneakers, an orderly and a female doctor finally appear. Words are exchanged that Hirsch can barely comprehend behind her own continued screams for assistance. As the syringe plunges into the former teen beauty queen’s neck, the nurse on top of her does her best to offer comfort. “{It’s okay, baby. We’re gonna help you, Tiffany. We’re going to get you the cure. Okay, /Tiffany/?}” Fuck, is that even this bitch’s goddamn name? The girl’s lashes flutter as they try to focus on the hysterical Nurse Hirsch. She frowns as she seems to find a way to navigate through her plague and sedative muddled thoughts. The teenage girl manages to get out three small words before the tranquilizer sets in and she goes slack. Her tone is sweet, but she is likely too quiet to be heard. Tiffany? “But I’m Sergio.”