"What the hell is wrong with her?" one of the other paramedics yelled across the thrashing body to Daniel. I cursed under my breath and gestured for him to get something to treat the wound as I tightened the straps holding the woman to the bed. One minute, she'd been pale, weak, and looked half dead, and the next she'd gone into a fury, ripping the tubes out of her arms, flailing and biting and screaming. We'd managed to get her strapped to the bed, but I'd gotten a few nasty bites, and bites like that almost always get infected.
The ambulance rumbled along, and they worked as best they could. Her struggling slowed as the sedative took effect, and she was soon slumbering peacefully, aside from the occasional muted whimper and groan.
It was not a great day. The doctors did what they could to clean the wounds, then bandaged him up, stitched him back together, and gave him a few days off to recover. Unpaid, of course - goddamn cost cutbacks, shit was like this all over the city lately. Marge wasn't going to like it, that was for sure. As he pushed his way through the front door, she called from the kitchen to ask how is day went. He said nothing at first, then sighed and told her the story as he grabbed himself some leftovers from the fridge.
"Babe, dinner will be ready in an hour or so, can't you wait?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I'm starved as starved can be, honey, and I feel like crap. I think I'm just gonna heat this up and head to bed. Try not to judge me too harshly - I do have 34 stitches, eh." He was glad she didn't bring up how much the lack of a few days pay would hurt them, thankfully, and he soon pulled his way upstairs and into bed. She stopped by the room a few times to check on him as he slept restlessly, but he barely acknowledged her. A quick reading with the thermometer showed only a small temperature, so they both agreed they'd try to last through the night and see how things were in the morning.
He groaned, and looked over the clock. 3:57am. His stomach rumbled, then clenched, but he tried to concentrate on swinging his legs around, and then pushing himself away from the bed. Don't think about throwing up. Definitely don't think about that. As he got to his feet, a sharp pain flared in his head, and he stumbled. He caught himself on the counter, but knocked his glass of water to the ground, drenching the rug. Great. Wonderful. He heard his wife stir a bit, then fall back into the silence of sleep. No... focus. Gotta get. Gotta get to the... bathroom.
He didn't quite make it to the toilet, but at least it would prove easier to clean off the tiles. If he ever again felt the need to move away from the basin, that was. He heard a voice call from the bedroom, a terrible voice, asking if he was alright. Hah, what a joke. Such an ugly voice, asking an ugly joke. Did that bitch THINK he was alright, sitting here on the floor, vomit down his legs. Did she think...
He threw up again, then steadied himself. What was he thinking? She called again, and he could hear her getting out of bed. He tried to mumble a reponse to her, but was interrupted with another bout of heaving.
As she came into the room, you looked at her, glared at her even. You pushed yourself to his feet as she made noises at you...
"..think I'm going to call the hospital, Dan. This is bad."
He shook his head, surprised to find himself standing.
"Yeah, hon... I think... I think that might be a good idea...
Ah, but what a better idea would it be to tear the ungrateful bitches throat out. She should have called the hospital already, should have brought him in already, and there she was, just walking out of the bathroom. He put his hand on her arm, intending to say something...
But then you decided to bite her instead, stumbling forward and lunging at her only to stop short as she backed away from him, ripping free of his arm.
"Babe, what... what's wrong with you?"
Daniel could tell she wasn't sure what he had intended, but she didn't like it.
Suddenly, he remembered the woman in the ambulance...
"Honey, I want you to do something for me, alright? Just stay out of the bathroom, and stay out of the bedroom even. Call the hospital, and wait in the parlour. I think... I think I might have what the woman at work today had, and I might get violent or unpredictable. I don't want you to get hurt, do you understand?" She nodded, and then asked if he would be alright.
In response, he simply slammed the bathroom door shut and yelled for her to get out, just to get the hell away from him. But he should follower her, show her why she should get away from him, and he reached out, locking the door, and then sat down on the toilet again. Shit, what the hell was he going to do. The stabbing pain in his head got worse, and he could feel his emotions spiraling out of control, feel the mood swings coming.
And then you were against the door, clawing at it, pushing against it, hitting at the handle, intent at getting out of this small room and at that woman you'd seen. You could still smell her, still taste her scent on the air. You stepped back, and then threw yourself at the door, then clubbed at it with your fists until it drew blood. You stepped back again, throwing yourself at it once more, and heard a cracking but felt your shoulder dislocate. Instead, you backed off, sat down, and regained your composure. If you could not escape, you would wait. You had a feeling more of them would be coming soon to visit you...
Intermission. One infection opportunity missed.
To be continued...
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Topic: You Are the Zombie Apocalypse! - Outbreak (Read 33859 times)