Chapter Text
Children darted between exhibits, laughter bounced off polished walls, and toons moved through the halls in practiced rhythm—guiding tours, entertaining guests, and keeping the center bright and cheerful.
In the middle of it all—
Shelly was talking.
“And if you look at the fossil ridge here—!” she beamed, nearly vibrating with excitement as she gestured to one of the prehistoric displays. “That shape actually resembles early ammonite patterns, which are SO cool because—”
The children stared.
One politely nodded.
Another had already wandered away.
Shelly’s smile faltered for half a second.
“…Because they’re, um. Really important to prehistoric marine ecosystems.”
Silence.
A teacher gently ushered the group onward.
“Thank you, Shelly.”
And just like that, they were gone.
Shelly stood awkwardly beside the exhibit, forcing her smile to stay bright.
“That’s okay,” she muttered to herself. “Maybe next group’ll like fossils more.”
“You’re doing great.”
Shelly perked up immediately at the voice.
Brightney stood nearby with an encouraging smile.
Shelly nearly lit up. “Really?! You think so?! Because I was thinking maybe if I added more dinosaur facts—”
A violent cough echoed down the hall.
Both of them turned.
Rudie stood near the reception desk, hunched over slightly with one hand over his mouth.
“You okay?” Shelly called.
Rudie straightened, giving a weak grin. “Yeah—yeah, fine. Just swallowed wrong.”
Shelly tilted her head.
“You sure? Because if your respiratory tract is irritated, that can be caused by—”
“I’m okay, Shelly,” Rudie laughed softly.
She smiled sheepishly. “Right. Sorry.”
The day moved on.
But Shelly noticed things others didn’t.
Rudie coughed again.
And again.
Each time wetter.
Each time harsher.
By afternoon, even from across the room, Shelly could hear how strained his breathing had become.
That wasn’t right.
She approached him near one of the hallways, concern written plainly across her face.
“Rudie, are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking kinda pale. Well—paler than usual, and your breathing sounds weird, and—”
“I said I’m fine,” Rudie snapped.
Shelly recoiled.
“Oh—sorry. I just—wanted to help…”
Rudie’s expression softened immediately. “No, sorry. I didn’t mean— I just feel awful.”
Shelly smiled gently. “You should rest.”
Before Rudie could answer—
He doubled over.
A horrible hacking fit tore through him.
Wet.
Violent.
Painful.
Black liquid splattered onto the floor.
Everything stopped.
Children screamed.
Staff shouted.
Shelly’s eyes widened in horror.
“Rudie?!”
A human staff member rushed forward, kneeling beside him.
“Everyone back up!”
Rudie trembled violently, choking, black ichor spilling from between his fingers.
Shelly stood frozen.
Her heart pounded.
That wasn’t normal.
That wasn’t normal at all.
The staff member kept hold of Rudie’s shoulders, trying to steady him as others rushed to call for help.
Shelly stared at the black fluid staining the tile.
Her cheerful expression slowly vanished.
And for the first time that day—
She stopped talking.
P
The infirmary doors swung shut behind the staff wheeling Rudie away.
The hallway remained in chaos.
Children cried. Teachers tried to calm them. Staff hurried everyone away from the black stain left on the floor.
But Shelly couldn’t move.
She stared at it.
At the thick, tar-like fluid smeared across the tile.
Her stomach twisted.
“Shelly?”
Brightney touched her shoulder.
She jolted.
“H-He coughed that up,” Shelly whispered.
Brightney looked toward the mess uneasily. “Yeah…”
“That’s not blood.”
“No.”
“That’s not normal mucus either.”
Brightney frowned. “Shelly—”
“No, listen—” Shelly knelt abruptly beside the stain, squinting at it despite Brightney’s protest. “Look at the viscosity—look how dark it is—it’s too thick, too dense, it’s almost—”
“Shelly, maybe don’t touch mystery goo—”
“I’m not touching it.”
She leaned closer.
The smell hit her next.
Rot.
Metal.
Something sour and damp.
Shelly’s expression shifted.
Fear creeping beneath curiosity.
“…Brightney,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“I don’t think Rudie just has the flu.”
Before Brightney could answer—
A voice called from farther down the hall.
“SHEL-LY!”
She turned.
One of the teachers jogged over, out of breath.
“Could you help escort the rest of the kids to the activity wing? We need everyone clear while medical handles this.”
Shelly glanced once more at the ichor on the floor.
Then nodded.
“Y-Yeah. Of course.”
---
Twenty minutes later, Gardenview looked normal again.
At least on the surface.
Children had been redirected. The hall was cleaned. Staff forced smiles back onto their faces.
But Shelly couldn’t shake the feeling in her chest.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
She sat beside Brightney in one of the back staff rooms, knees bouncing anxiously.
“Do you think Rudie’s okay?” Brightney asked quietly.
Shelly hesitated.
“No.”
Brightney looked at her sharply.
“No?”
Shelly wrung her hands together.
“I’ve seen sick people before, Brightney. I’ve seen injuries, infections, weird toon illnesses—nothing makes fluid like that.”
Brightney swallowed.
“So what are you saying?”
Shelly’s voice dropped.
“I think something’s seriously wrong with him.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
A cough echoed from the hallway outside.
Both of them froze.
Then another.
Wet.
Harsh.
Familiar.
The two slowly turned toward the door—
Just as a human staff member stumbled past the room, one hand clamped over their mouth.
Black liquid dripped through their fingers.
Shelly’s blood ran cold.
Brightney whispered—
“Oh no.”
Shelly stood so fast her chair toppled backward.
“No no no no—”
Because now she knew.
Whatever Rudie had—
It was spreading.
---