The sky was a perfect shade of blue, butterflies dancing across my vision. I smiled, feeling the warm grass beneath me tickling my neck, making me giggle. It was nice just lying in the warm sunlight, a gentle breeze passing through my unkempt hair, sending ginger flakes across my brow. I reached up to tame them, but something caught my eye. Bringing my hand closer to my face, I noticed a long, thin, red line marking my hand, thin as a strand of hair.
Attempting to rub it off, it grew worse, splashing out across my palm. Panicking, I furiously wiped my hand across the ground, only to find it spreading further. I could only watch in horror as the dye began weeping out of my pores, dripping off the end of my fingers and onto the grass.
What was happening to me?!
Suddenly the smell hit me, making me gag uncontrollably. A mixture of rotting flesh and what could only be described as death, spreading to my taste buds, blacking out my vision.
Bolting awake, I immediately vomited the content of my stomach onto the disabled toilet floor, the pungent odour very much real. By the time I was done there was nothing left in me, and I was gasping for breath.
Wiping the drool from my mouth, I glance at my gory hand, the bandage dripping blood. I could feel it throbbing, merely an echo of its former torment but still prevalent. I was lucky to be alive, wasn't I always.
Looking up, I depicted the still form of Will under the illumination of the toilets emergency lighting. He hadn't moved an inch, was he even alive? Worry drove me to his side, crawling on all fours through the mix of puke, urine and blood, I had lost all reason to care for cleanliness anymore. Slumping to the floor next to him, I felt for a pulse, or anything that would tell me he was still alive. How long had I been out?
After a painstaking minute I managed to find his racing heartbeat, happily pulsing away. Now for the next challenge, keeping him alive. Moving down his body, I removed his knife from its sheath, cutting down his trouser leg. Dropping the blade I peeled back the blood soaked fabric, nearly hurling up for the second time, feeling my stomach muscles clenching down on themselves. To say his leg was mutilated would be an understatement, the bone clearly broken in more than one place.
In all honestly, I had no idea what to do, l was trapped in a small, dimly light toilet. Every inch of my body aching and covered in a cocktail of vile substances, most of which could probably kill me if I gave them a chance. I felt physically and mentally drained, even breathing had become a battle, my brain feeling sticky and hot.
Before I knew it I was crying, the reality of the situation finally hitting me. My only hope of seeing... ever again was lying on the floor in front of me practically dead.
"Eve..."
"Will?" I sobbed.
"Pull yourself together, i'm not dead yet," he continued weekly.
"Will!" I squealed, attempting to embraced him.
"Doesn't mean I won't be soon if I'm not careful."
"What do I do." I said in all seriousness.
"I need alcohol, clean rags and a board to brace my leg," he grunted, clearly in pain.
"Where do I even find all that stuff!"
"Eve... your in a shopping centre."
"Oh yeah."
"Go and be quick about it!"
Without hesitating, I jumped to my feet, instantly regretting it as my vision tipped sending me into the wall.
"And Eve... do something about your hand."
I nodded, stumbling to the door and placing an ear against it. Silence. Preparing for the worst I flicked open the lock and slowly priced the exit open, letting the light flood in. Squinting, my eyes quickly adjusted revealing the carnage from earlier, bodies lining the way to our hiding place.
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YOU ARE READING
Infection
Science FictionIt starts with a simple itch, nothing more. Maybe a few random spasms or the occasional shudder but you'll think nothing of it. Then you'll get blood shot eyes... Not enough sleep? It gets worse, much worse. The itching turns to scratching, clawing...