Outbreak

Chapter 5

Quinn

I groan and sit up in the double bed that takes up half the room in the master bedroom. My left arm aches, and I haven't been able to sleep all night. I lean over to the nightstand where my watch is; it reads one o'clock in the morning. I lay back in the pillows, sighing quietly in frustration. 

My arm really hurts.

I get up and quietly pad down the hallway to the bathroom. I slowly lock the door behind me, and look at my reflection in the mirror. I start to shout but cover my mouth in surprise - my arm is covered in uneven green blotches. 

My memory races back to when the zombie attacked me. I dove across the bed, then the zombie jumped on top of me, trying to bite me and make me one of its own. I still remember its hideous face; twisted and deformed, milky, unfocused eyes, tendrils of tangled hair hanging down in ropes, drool dripping from its--

Oh. 

Saliva.

My head spins, and my heart begins to race. Am I turning into a zombie? I feel sick, and that just makes me more terrified. Dizziness? Nausea? Surely those are symptoms for becoming a zombie. I stumble, and my shaking hands clutch the sink. I stare at my reflection, and picture my blonde hair messy and filthy, my blue eyes glazed over, my skin deformed and abnormal. 

I take deep breaths. Calm down, I tell myself. Emmett has a cure. He'll now what to do. Anyway, the transformation process is unusually slow, so you still have time. I nod at myself, feeling a little better. 

I tiptoe back into the bedroom and grab my hoodie to hide the injury, then head into the living room where the boys are sleeping. I squint and try to make out the sleeping figures in the dark. The ex-zombie is sleeping on one of the couches, Mal and Eric are curled up on armchairs, and Ezran is on the floor with nothing but a blanket and a pillow. How he finds that comfortable, I'll never know. 

I turn to see Jason and Emmett sleeping on opposite ends of the second couch. I lean over and gently shake Emmett's shoulder. 

"Emmett," I whisper. "Emmett, wake up." 

"Wha?" He grumbles, and sits up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Who - oh, Quinn." "I need to talk to you," I whisper urgently. He nods and yawns, brushing off the blanket we found in the closet. I walk into the kitchen and sit on a bar stool. Emmett joins me, putting on his glasses. 

"So what's up?" I take a deep breath and pull up my sleeves. He takes a minute to recognize what it is in the dark room, but when he does he gasps. 

"That's not-" 

I nod grimly. "But you still have a little of the cure, don't you? Can't you just... inject it into me or something?" He shakes his head sadly. "I used the last of it on that zombie. I can make a new one, though! It'll just take time..." I look at the injury. "I don't know if we have time. You can try?" He nods earnestly, but I droop my head again. 

"Emmett... if you don't make one in time... you'll have to kill me, you know that?" He starts to object, but I cut him off. "Don't say that you can keep me in the garage until you've done it. I might hurt someone... I could be the one that finishes off the human race for all we know." He nods sadly. 

"I understand. But you have to understand too, that I really will try." I smile. "Thank you. Really." He smiles back. 

"Anything for a friend."

???

I can hear muffled voices. 

Where am I? 

What happened? 

I feel pain in my lower chest. 

I just want to sleep...

"How long is he going to be out, anyway?" The speaker's voice sounds female. 

I strain to open my eyes, but they're too heavy.

"Cut the guy some slack. He's been a damn zombie for five months, he'll need time to regain his energy." This voice is deeper; a guy. 

Wait -- a zombie? 

What- 

I remember now. 

I groan and bring a hand to my throbbing head.

"Woah, did he just move?!"

I manage to open my eyes all the way, and can make out a boy sitting on the armchair of the flowery couch that I'm lying on, looking at me with a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth. A girl is leaning over the back of the couch and looking at me with bright blue eyes. 

"Hello there." 

I shout in surprise and tumble off of the couch in surprise, and she bursts into laughter. "Sorry. I'm Quinn." She extends a hand, and I take it. She pulls me back onto the couch, bringing a weak shout of pain from me. I clutch my chest and look down to see a bandage wrapped tightly around my abdomen, faintly stained with blood. 

"Wh-what happened?" I ask. "Where am I?" her expression softens. "You were a -- you know what? Let me get you some food, then I'll tell you everything."