Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 60: Self Care

I wake up and I feel like garbage.

I cried last night. A lot. I cried and I thought about God and cried some more until I passed out. Now, even with sleep behind me, I'm still exhausted. I'm way too hot and my throat feels dry. As I force myself to sit up, my stomach churns. I don't think last night's dinner is agreeing with me, even though I checked the expiration date and I should've been fine.

I'm about to leave the couch when I realize that I have company. The Beagle lays on the floor next to the couch, curled up in a little ball with his faded muzzle on his paws. My heart squeezes at the sight of him. I look towards the garage, the door still open and just visible from the living room, and I feel blessed that he chose to come and sleep by my side.

But, duty calls, and I carefully maneuver around him and stumble to the nearest bathroom. I empty my guts into the toilet bowl, dry heaving and coughing until everything's gone. I grip the bowl, spitting the lingering acid taste from my tongue even as my stomach convulses three more painful times. When it's finally over, I slump against the wall and let my head tilt back.

Really? I think. I survive days in infection central back in A block but I catch it now?

I let out a weak whine. How am I supposed to keep my strength up if I keep losing my meals? I need to take it easy, recover, let myself rest so I don't exacerbate my symptoms. I can still kick this before it gets worse.

I hear gentle plodding and the Beagle appears at the bathroom door, sniffing the air and staring at me. I give him a weak, pursed lips smile.

"Hey, old boy," I say. "Sorry, I don't think I'm feeling very good right now."

He sniffs again and comes closer. His tail wags a bit, slowly, but still a wag. I cough, turning my face towards my shoulder and grimacing at the taste on my tongue. Maybe this place has some extra toothbrushes and toothpaste I could borrow.

But, I don't want to move. The bathroom linoleum feels cool against my legs, the wall sturdy against my back. I could stay here for a bit, right?

I feel a wet tongue against my hand.

I raise my head just as the Beagle licks my hand again, carefully lapping at my knuckles. I slowly lift my hand, testing it, and he doesn't move. I rest it on his head and he nuzzles into it, letting me pet his ears.

Tears well up in my eyes as his sweet old face seems to soften with bliss. I bet it's been a very long time since someone human and alive touched him like this.

"Hey, you trust me," I say, my voice slightly choked. I cough again. "Thank you."

He steps back for just long enough to shake, his collar jingling with the movement. I reach out and grasp the license hanging from it, a simple gold circle, but there's no name. Just proof of vaccination for rabies on the backside and a fancy monogram-style "D" on the front.

What a funny little twist of fate.

"Sorry, old boy," I say. "Doesn't look like your people gave you much of a nametag." He sits and scratches his ear, making me smile. "Mind if I call you Old Dan?"

He stares at me, licking his lips. I take a deep breath and force myself off the nice cool bathroom floor.

"Okay, I hear you. Time for breakfast," I say. "Hope you like toilet water and cat food."

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I take the time to rest.

I feed Old Dan and make sure he's got water. I munch on old corn flakes and search the upper rooms of the house for entertainment. I find plenty of classic novels in the office and I luck out with toothbrushes and toothpaste too, rinsing the taste of bile away.