"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth."

  Genesis 1:1 (King James Version)

Jonathan Crawford had a secret; he wasn't exactly supposed to be here. His shift was over three hours ago. 

Don't worry, he wasn't doing anything illegal. At least, he didn't think so… And besides, the hospital was still open.

Anyway, you might be wondering, what kind of person liked work so much that they'd be willing to stay past time? With no extra pay? You're probably shuddering just thinking about it.

But see, he wasn't exactly working either. Well, not on something you'd probably expect a doctor would when he's got spare time in his office. And he wasn't even working on that right now. Frankly, he was just here because he liked the view. The floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the right wall of the room framed the night sky in a way that assured him he couldn't be in as much trouble as he thought.

There was a knock at the door before it opened and Agnes, the not-a-day-above-sixty-seven receptionist, stuck her head in, "Dr Crawford, can you take one more?" she asked.

He frowned. Forgive him but he wasn't used to taking patients at nearly eleven o'clock in the night, especially when he wasn't on call. "There's someone else, isn't there? Can't it wait?" he replied. If it wasn't an emergency, he didn't see any reason to step in. 

"Well, it's a two patient wait for the other doctors, and…" she added somewhat reluctantly, "She asked for you by name." 

That caught his attention. It wasn't too uncommon to call for a doctor, but it didn't happen so often either. "Alright, send her in."

She didn't close the door so he heard her talking to someone outside, "Okay sweetie, you can go in now." 

A second later, a young woman appeared through the door. She looked around nineteen or twenty, black t-shirt with white lettering on dark jeans. Her face was slightly pale with shoulder length dark hair framing it. Her arms clutched a small bundle wrapped in cloth, holding it to her chest. He waved her over to one of the chairs opposite his desk.

"What can I do for you today?" he started.

She hesitated slightly like she wasn't sure what to say, then took a deep breath before speaking, "It's not me, it's the baby." She paused, "It may sound completely crazy, but it's been very strange lately." 

"May I see the child?" he asked. She still held the bundle to her chest. He wouldn't have known it was a baby if she hadn't said it. 

She shifted in her seat, looking a bit… uncomfortable. Finally, she lowered her arms very slowly, presenting her bundle. Wrapped in blue and white cloth, instead of a swaddling baby, it was… a wooden doll. 

"Is this some sort of joke?" he couldn't resist asking.

"Sshhh," she whispered softly, gazing at the doll, "I only just got it quiet." She looked up at him, her eyes had lost their darting gaze, "Otherwise it would be screaming the house down."

Dr Crawford had heard enough. He had no idea what was loose in the woman's head, and he wasn't keen on finding out. The strangest thing was that Agnes had even let her in. He called for her on the intercom. 

"Agnes, please get in here." There was no reply. The woman stroked the doll.

He tried again. Still, no reply.

He tried calling for her through the door, his voice getting louder at each sentence.

She still stroked it, "You're going to wake it up if you yell like that," she warned. 

"Agnes, get security," he called, getting to his feet. "Agnes!"

"Can't you tell she can't hear you?" she said, "In fact, no one can." He stopped at that, and then listened. He could finally hear it. 

Except for his breathing, the place was completely silent. He could even hear the click of the woman's nails on the wood of the doll. 

It was the sound of emptiness.

"Who are you?" he breathed. An idea was already forming in his head, but he still had to ask.

Her eyes locked on him, "What? You don't remember?"

He swallowed hard. There was something he had to try. Behind the desk, his hand moved to his pocket. He had to confirm.

Somehow, her eyes caught the movement. She smiled, "Doctor, you don't have to move in secret—I'm right here. Let's bring it all out into the open."

Dr Crawford stared straight at her—he didn't dare take his eyes off her. If she knew what he was thinking of doing… If she knew that, there was probably no point of doing it anyway. Still, he didn't stop. He pulled out his phone. Turning it on, he switched to the camera and raised it to her face.

She placed the doll on the desk and laced her fingers together, smiling. "Take a good one now," she said. 

He clicked, once, twice. Then, hands shaking, he swiped for the gallery. 

In the photos, everything the office was as it was supposed to be, the framed pictures and certificates on the wall, the desk, the papers, everything. Except her. 

Her seat was empty, she wasn't there. She wasn't in the picture.

She still smiled up at him, "Was it good?" 

The phone fell from his hand, bounced off the table and clattered to the floor. They'd found him.

Her smile dipped. "Guess it wasn't."

She shrugged and sank back into her seat. Then her eyes went to his face, and she smiled again, "Hey, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, Doctor."

She wasn't wrong, his face had lost all color, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was trembling all over, "What do you want?"

She didn't reply. She was just still smiling at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, voice rising an octave.

Still nothing.

"WHY HAVE YOU COME?!" he bellowed. He'd finally reached breaking point. 

She finally opened her mouth, "I thought I told you not to yell— " Her eyes went to the doll, "Whoops, too late. You woke it up."

He could hardly believe what happened next, even though it happened right in front of his own eyes. The doll floated up into the air, like a scene from a low budget horror movie. Part of him wished it stayed that way, but a sickening snap went through the room as its head cracked open and a dark, tarry liquid came pouring out.

Rather than falling to the floor, it remained in the air around the doll, encasing it in a shiny, obsidian shell. Then with a crunch, the shell bubbled and broke open.

Front and back legs sprouted from it, then a tail and finally a furry, streamlined head with a long snout, all slick with mucus. Standing on all fours, it vaguely resembled a dog—if dogs were six feet tall.

"Revolting, isn't it?" the woman whispered, eyes trained on the creature, then they settled on him, "Just like you." 

His legs ran on autopilot. Dr Crawford bolted for the door.

Behind him, he could hear the girl click her tongue. "Fetch," she said.

He made it across the room in record time, moving faster than he ever had in his life. He could hear it bearing down after him. Once he reached the door handle… Well, he didn't know what he'd do but first, get out—

Every hair on the back of his neck rose, breaking his train of thought. Out of sheer instinct, he dove for the ground.

A second later, his mahogany desk sailed over his head and crashed into the door with an ear-shattering sound. Wood splintered everywhere. He looked up— there was a massive gap in the wall, the corridor was in a mess, but it was right there… 

Outside was right there.

He shot up as fast as he could, making a break for it, but he was still a second too late. Pain shot up his leg as razor sharp teeth closed in around it.

He flailed despite the pain, trying to make it let go but its grip was iron. It dragged him back to where he started from. Right in front of the girl. Then, it heeled to her side, like an obedient dog.

"See Doctor, I was right. Something was wrong with the baby."

With his very best effort, he sat up. Half glaring because of the pain, he stared at her silently. If it were possible, she smiled even wider.

"Why?" he rasped.

"Nothing personal. You're just… in the way." She reached into the purse she brought along with her and pulled out a silver gun. His eyes widened, maybe it was the mega-hound, but something told him she didn't need that to get rid of him.

So why?

"Well, I've always wanted to try using one of these," she said, wrinkling her nose, "A bit of a human touch."

As she spoke, her hair lengthened to her waist, color morphing to blood red. 

She crouched in front of him as he made to speak, and the words glued in his throat.

"Tell me…are you afraid, Doctor?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

Now, he couldn't reply.

The next moment, a shot rang out through the corridors of the hospital, silenced only by the air of the night.