Chapter Twenty Four - Infection

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I stared at the doctor, not believing the words I had just heard. She went on to talk more, but I heard none of it. All of it was jump womp-womping, and none of it mattered. All that mattered was because of Philip - because of me - we all had this rare germ and had to be quarantined.

Only, now, did it really kick in that I was so, very helpless - as well as everyone else now - towards the world; towards the ones I loved; even towards myself. Of course, it has occurred to me many a time that yes, I am just a pebble in the world made up of stones and boulders. Now, though, I see I am not even a pebble, but a grain of sand - maybe smaller - in a world of mountains. So many things can over take me: other people, sickness, pain. . . so many things were inferior to I, and the fact that I just realized this because of the burden I had received, was startling.

". . .And that's how it'll work. Alright, Alex, Jessica?" the mention of my name made me jump, being already shaken from my thoughts. The doctor left swiftly, leaving us alone in the room that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller by the day.

Jessie looked at me, her face blotchy and eyes red, cheeks stained with tears. I remember when I first saw her, how her hair was so shiny, and now was so matted; how her blue eyes glistened in the sunlight; how they now were tired and distant. "I can tell you're too busy blaming yourself to be listening to what just happened, Alex," she said, so confidently that you'd think she was me altogether.

"Maybe," I said sheepishly, playing with the white sheets underneath me.

"Well, if I could, I'd come over there and hug you and tell you that all of it -" Jessie was stopped by four men in hazmat abruptly entering the room.

"Get 'em out, Greg!" a tall man shouted from the door as three others ran in and took me by the arms, lifted me out of the bed and picked me up. He ran to the door with me bouncing over his shoulder, yelling in pain, before tossing me onto this tub-thing with wheels, where another person wheeled me down the hall, faster and faster every second.

I laid there, limp, in so much pain from being such man-handled with all my injuries. Okay, so I had a rare virus and I could spread and restart the Black Plague, but don't throw me around like sack of potatoes when it hurts to even lift a finger!

At the very end of the corridor, we stopped in front of a white door that was different from all the rest. The guy who barked orders all the way there opened it, and my cart was pushed in, the heavy door slamming behind me with a loud bang. I looked around, trying to figure why I was here. Suddenly, the door opened again, and they pushed Jessie in, who was in the same container, her face scared and pained. A man - who I think was Greg - followed her in, and began to speak.

"Well, I wanted to let you know this is your new room until we figure out how to cure you. . . if you don't die first. But that is not for you to worry about, my friends. Basically, since you can't really move, I'll be putting you onto those beds," he pointed to the far left corner, where two beds lay next to each other, "and people will be in here four times a day, to help you. You'll get food five times a day, and you have water dispensers 24/7. Good luck."

Before I could say anything, then man left as the door slammed again. Suddenly, it opened and he reappeared. More gently this time, he lifted me, placed me in my bed and then did the same to Jessie before leaving us once again.

"So," I mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. The whole room was white, and there we no windows. The whole room was filled with artificial lighting, and the only sound that filled the room was breathing and the sporadic shuffle then moan of one of us moving. I felt like a crazy person in a crazy hut, locked up so I wouldn't go on a mass murder spree. I guess, in a way, I was like this. If I left this room, and became part of the general public again, many would most likely die because of this germ. So, yes, I might as well be a murderer.

"So, what," Jessie said from her bed. I shrugged, not in the mood to speak, or do anything. Not like I could, anyway. Suddenly, the door whipped open, and a tub appeared. It was Ann. She was lifted and put on a bed on the other side of the room, then the men left and slammed the door. I still didn't get why they had to leave so abruptly. Ann sat up, then looked around the room. Shaking her head, she walked over to the wall that had some weird fountain-thing with cups next to it. She picked up a small blue and pink cup, then examined the machine before pressing a button and water came sputtering out, landing in the cup.

"Want any?" she asked, lifting another cup.

"Yes, please," I said, moving my tongue across my teeth, proving to myself how thirsty I was. She filled the cup, then walked over to me, and put it in my hand.

"Me, too, Mom?" Jessie said, smiling at her.

"Of course, sweetie," she said, then walked over to the water fountain and filled another cup. Great, I thought, I have m girlfriend's mom taking care of me. Ann handed Jessie the cup, then went back to her bed and sat down. She brought the cup to her lips and took a small sip, then cupped it I both hands, placing them on her lap.

"Who do you guys think Philip is?" Jessie said, looking at me. I thought, but had no idea. Who could it be? Anyone, really. . .

And under that category of anyone fell the serial killer who was never caught all those year ago and for I know, I could already have one foot in the grave. 

[A/N: I actually feel like this story is getting somewhere. Thank you guys so much, I can't explain my gratitude.]

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