Zam the Hybrid

20. A Toxic Scheme

Zam didn't sleep well that night. There were just too many thoughts rushing around his head for him to settle properly. How had his footprints shown up at the scene of a murder? Who had killed the woman and why were they trying to frame him? There was something about the crime that didn't quite add up, like something obvious he'd missed but he couldn't quite piece it together; he was just too tired and confused.

Then there was the matter of the Monetary Policy Committee suing him. Crawford was a fierce adversary and an exceptional lawyer but could he really lose to her? She didn't have a case against him and he knew that in theory, he should be able to defend himself and yet yesterday's preliminary hearing was a very even affair. With Zam in a somewhat distracted state, he hadn't made his points quite as firmly as he would've liked and everything Crawford seemed to say was just... perfect. Even so, he knew that it was very early on in the trial and he was still in a very good position. If Crawford was going to win, she'd need to pull out some more tricks.

It was a pretty rough night. He tossed and turned in his sleep, constantly waking up and then drifting back to sleep again. At one point during the night, he suddenly found himself sitting bolt upright, as if he'd been disturbed by something. He'd felt groggy and tired but something must have awoken him. He glanced around the bedroom but in the total darkness, he couldn't see anything that would have woken him up.

"Taylor?" he whispered. She was asleep. After a few seconds, he guessed that maybe she'd accidentally brushed against his arm in her sleep. Come to think of it, his arm did feel a bit unusual, so perhaps she'd rolled over on it, causing some numbness. Without thinking about it anymore, Zam slumped back down onto his pillow, when he finally managed to get a decent night's sleep.

*

He woke up the next morning feeling awful. He laid on the bed for a while trying to let the feeling pass. Probably due to his less than ideal sleep, he was still extremely tired and every time he tried to open his eyes, they resisted like they didn't want to see the light of day. Zam forced them open, blinking several times to try and rid his vision of the usual morning blurriness. It didn't pass. Slightly confused, he rolled out of bed and stood up.

"Oof!" he yelped as he immediately fell to the ground, his legs seeming surprised at having to hold weight. His head spun horribly with a dizziness that was so strong it was sickening which was odd as he hadn't had anything to drink last night so he shouldn't have been hungover. He brought his hands up to his head, to try and nurse the headache but he was met with a grim sight. His arms were green.

He shook his head and blinked, thinking he was seeing things. No, he wasn't mistaken. Even with his slightly blurred vision there was no doubt in his mind. His right forearm was almost completely numb, his palms were clammy, his entire body was drenched in sweat and he felt as though he could throw up at any moment. He focused his eyes on his right arm, scanning it for any sign of—there! There it was! The nail in the coffin that confirmed the symptoms. Halfway up his forearm was an angry red mark and two tiny holes roughly a centimetre apart. He needed medical attention and he needed it quickly.

Using his left arm to grab the bed, he pulled himself up on his feet, supporting himself so that his knees wouldn't buckle once again. He steadied himself, trying desperately to keep down the vomit that was eagerly attempting to escape his body. When he was ready, he began to move his feet but he, unfortunately, was losing control with his head spinning so much. He soon abandoned being careful and tried charging forwards instead, forcing his way out of the bedroom and stumbling wildly into the kitchen.

"Morning!" Taylor chirped with an enthusiasm that Zam didn't currently share as he crashed to the floor once again.

"Urgh..." he moaned as he was helped back to his feet.