renegades [teenage mercenary]

013

Rei woke up to a thunderous boom shaking the mattress beneath her. She jerked awake, letting out a muted grunt when she was halfway out of her bed, tripping through the covers and crashing to the ground as she had that first night.

She lay there for a moment before her eyes widened at the realization that she had taken the cat with her. The animal was now trying to escape the thick blankets, its yowling only a whisper to her ears with the wind and rain pelting perpetually against the window.

She flung the stuffy covers off of her, goosebumps splayed across her arms and legs, the sheets hypersensitive against her bare skin. Her heart raced as the relentless storm continued to pass through. The cat, now free, bounced out of the blankets and started to chase ghosts around the room, not once stopping after headbutting the bed frame multiple times.

She didn't think Opium could get anymore more idiotic. At least the cat wasn't terrified of thunderstorms, just doing what it normally did at 3 AM—every night—without fail.

She wasn't either and had gotten used to storms with the nuisance of working in tropical conditions. Nonetheless, it certainly was bothersome—especially when back at the Camp, any type of disruption (i.e. a storm) would cause problems with the radio or their walkie-talkies. If they weren't able to hear what was going down on the other side—it could lead to a life-or-death situation if they couldn't reach each other amidst the action. And that was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Rei let out a sigh, her head pounding with an ache that wouldn't go away; it hadn't since the day she woke up after the vaccinations—three days later—with nausea that came sporadically.

She was familiar with getting sick as having little food or water, getting even less sleep, and having to work through the rains had caused a low immune system. Still, she was shocked to see that she hadn't experienced this type of nausea since one of her first years of surviving in the Camp. It was when some sort of virus had come through and killed two of the teenagers and three adults, all of whom were already liabilities in some form. She, like many others at the Camp, wasn't able to hold anything down for what she remembered to be at least almost four days.

It was one of the worst pains she had grown to overcome—hunger.

And now, eight years later (or at least she assumed), she still couldn't feel hunger pangs. It was a blessing and a curse. It was regrettably welcoming out in the field as the ache for food didn't impede her ability to think and do what she needed to do. On the other hand, it was a problem when most of the time it ended with her becoming lightheaded and sick, then having the risk factor of fainting mid-mission—but it was a risk factor that she had grown accustomed to. It no longer frightened her.

So now, she stood up, grimacing through the taste of bile. Chills ran through her body despite the room's warmth and she found it hard to keep standing. She desperately needed water, but her stomach could only handle a few sips at a time.

Those stupid fucking vaccinations. They'd better be worth it.

Without opening her eyes (as the number of black spots obstructing her vision made her see very little anyway), she found her water bottle, fumbling to open the cap with her sluggish muscles holding her back. Water gushed from the opening, spilling onto her hands. Her fingers now slippery against the plastic casing, she rushed to bring the top up to her lips. She relished how the acidity and dryness dissipated with the few sips. Forcing herself to not drink anymore since she knew she wouldn't be able to make herself stop if she continued, she placed the bottle down, highly aware it would eventually all just come up at one point or another.

God, she did not miss being sick.

Stumbling through the room, she located her jacket after placing the bottle down, tugging the coat on so she could feel the comfortable weight sit on her shoulders. She hurried back into bed, letting out a groan as it felt like the blankets were slicing up her skin into little slivers. She stared up at the ceiling as she awaited dawn to arrive, bursts of light flickering across the walls.