A New Type of Realism

(25) Indestructible

I heard the beating footsteps of the infected getting louder. I heard their groans cut deeper into the silence and peace within me with every step they took. I sniffed at the first waft of that acrid smell and I knew they were nearly upon me. This was it. Time to die. I opened my eyes to welcome my death with open arms...

...moments later, it was my scream that rang through the air.

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The first shock had been waking up. The second had been when I opened my eyes to find myself surrounded by a team of doctors. The third had been when I saw my brother, alive and well, behind a glass screen that looked into the room I was in.

I tried to rise up, but was held down by my own drowsiness. I didn't understand. I had given myself to the infected. I had died. So why was I still alive?

I opened my eyes to look into the face of my fast approaching death. The infected that was running right towards me, ignored me completely, and dodged to my left, sprinting straight past my body. The second did exactly the same. The third, dodged to the right. I was confused. Why were they not attacking me? Maybe they were too intently focused on the chase. I calmed as I saw one infected looking intently at me, staring right into my eyes, and stalking slowly towards me. He grabbed a hold of my shoulder and jabbed something into my stomach.

The pain was instantaneous. My body writhed and convulsed as every muscle contracted at once. I couldn't relax. I didn't have control over myself. My mouth made sounds of its own, as I jittered all over the floor. As quickly as it had come, the shock vanished. I couldn't help myself, I screamed as the infected came at me again.

The shock hit me once more. The electricity jumped through my skin. I could feel it course through my blood vessels and into my heart. I felt the shock run through my brain. I tried to turn my head to look at the infected, but my body would not obey my commands. The shock circulated within me again, before I could take it no longer. I passed out.

The memory came rushing back to me, and I winced as I remembered the pain of what had felt like an electric shock. I pulled up my shirt, which had been changed to an immaculately clean, white, hospital gown. I rubbed at the skin where I'd been hit.

"Devyn Thomas?" I angled my head to the side and saw what I assumed to be a doctor stood by the side of the bed. He had a clipboard in his hand, and a pen in the other. He passed them over to me. "I need you to sign this... if you feel you're up to it?" I nodded, I felt curiously fine. I reached out for the pen and scrawled my signature along a dotted line.

I was in quarantine. That's where I was. They'd transported me to Ireland after saving me from the infected, and they'd placed me in quarantine! They were making me sign a document that would allow them to administer some sort of cure, and I'd be allowed to travel back to my family. I hoped against hope that they'd managed to locate Martin and had brought him back here with me.

I was wrong. If I had been in quarantine, the doctors would have been wearing masks, and the room would have been air tight. The room clearly wasn't air tight, as I looked around groggily to see an open window on one of the walls of the room. That must have meant that I hadn't been infected. I should've read the document I'd been asked to sign. Then I'd know exactly what was going on.

I tried to ask the doctor where I was, but my voice came out as a thin rasp.

"Mr. Thomas, an orientation team will be with you shortly to make you aware of your situation. For now, I would advise you to rest." The doctor spoke. His voice was calming and deep, like the kind that is usually found on the audio tapes of self-meditation. I tried to nod, but my eyes had begun to droop. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep, in a dreamless world.

I woke up again. This time I was significantly less drowsy than I had been before. I managed to sit up in bed this time. Sure enough, as the doctor had said, a small group of people were gathered in my room, each wearing a white lab coat, and carrying a clipboard. I coughed to try and get their attention, I knew that my voice was a useful as an aardvark without a snout. They turned around.

"Ah, Mr. Thomas, how are you feeling?" The closest one to me spoke with an old man's voice, despite being female. I nodded, not sure of what was going on.

"We're going to take this nice and slow, okay? No nasty, little shocks for you."

"What's going on?" I managed to croak out. My throat felt like needles were giving birth to bigger needles inside it.

"First thing's first, your friends, Slade and Martin, are both very much alive. Slade is in a similar situation to you, and is currently in orientation as well."

"And Martin? Where's Martin?"

"Ah, ah, ah... remember what we said Mr Thomas, no nasty little surprises, we're going to take this very slowly." My eyes widened in fear and suspicion. Where the hell was I? Who were these people? Where was Martin?!

"Tell me where Martin is." I gritted my teeth, though I was refused the information again. I heard a fast beeping noise and turned to realise that it was a heart monitor. Sticky pads were placed all over me. I swatted at them, becoming anxious. I needed to get them off of me. I needed to get out of here. I needed to find Martin and get him back to his Mother. Dylan would help me. I looked up to see him arguing with the doctor from before through the glass window.

Eventually, he pushed passed the doctor, and entered the room. "You're aggravating him, stop it! Get away from him! Can't you see he's deeply traumatised!?" My brother crossed the room to me, and stopped me from trying to take off the little sticky pads all over my body. "What have they done to you?" I reached for him and pulled him into a bear hug, but he pulled away quickly. "Dile, they're trying to 'orientate' you," he used two fingers as quotation marks around the word 'orientate', "they want to do it slowly, but this is the first time they've done anything like this. I've got to tell you. It's got to be all at once, and you're going to be confused. God, you're going to be so confused, but just bear with us all. Please. It'll be okay." He squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"Dylan...?"

"The infected weren't real." My brother sighed.

"What?" I hadn't registered what he'd said.

"None of it was. The infected, the deaths, that magical cure for all cancers... Martin, none of it was real."

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