Lunar Virus ✔️

Chapter Ten: Elie

Elie's POV:

Quentin: Wake up. Your face is wet.

With some difficulty, I manage to crack my eyes open and realize that I’d been crying. My heart is ramming against my rib cage, my hands are slightly shaking. Quickly, I sit up. Quentin, those weren’t my thoughts, right? I feel a hand on my back rubbing soothing circles and a voice speaking near my ear, probably trying to calm me down. But it won’t work, because I can barely breathe. That couldn't have happened, those were not my thoughts. What just happened? I didn't kill Kowalski! I didn’t--

Quentin: Calm down. Those weren’t your thoughts. It was that damn virus’s thoughts. The vision is supposed to be everything that happened as soon as the virus chose him as a host. This includes the virus's thoughts as it takes over the host’s body in the last moments.

The tone Quentin uses is not harsh, but soothing. A first for Quentin. This knowledge calms me down just a fraction. But the remains of euphoria, the feeling of pure ecstasy that the virus had had while killing Kowalski, still leave me feeling gutted and sore, and I can still barely breathe. It feels like I’m being smothered and the sense of fear is overwhelming.

The soothing tones of another voice, Elodie’s, forces me to refocus on my surroundings. She takes my shoulders, looks me in the eyes, and says, “It’s okay. I’ll walk you through this. It’s just a panic attack. Now, tell me what you see.”

I force myself to look around the room. The room is white and dull, with a depressing fluorescent light coating the room with white rays. All that decorates the walls is a single flu vaccine poster. There’s a door on the opposite of me, and to the left of the bed I’m on, are two other beds. Lining a corner of the room are flimsy counters with metallic shelves and a sink. Not porcelain like the sink in the vision; this one’s metal. I relay the information to Elodie and can’t help but notice that up close, her eyes have flecks of gold in them. She continues this procedure and asks me things pertaining to all my senses. I slowly feel myself start to relax as I list objects, feelings, and smells, and soon, my breathing is normal.

Elodie, after being satisfied with my mental state of being, leans back and practically falls into a chair beside the bed. Shooting me an almost accusatory glare, she says, “That was scary.” I couldn’t agree more. I had just felt the emotions and listened to the thoughts of a demonic, supposedly intelligent, virus. I lean back onto the bed, feeling emotionally and physically drained. “I suppose that was scary,” I mutter.

Elodie’s eyes flick towards me, “You’re hiding something. You were talking about Kowalski in your sleep.” By the look in her eyes, I can tell that she has something more to say. The only way I’m going to find out what it is is by telling her about Quentin. Quentin, should we tell her? Quentin?

Quentin: Look, kid. I may be infinitely smarter than you, but I can’t make all your decisions for you. You would become even more of an idiot than you already are.

Me: But what if she thinks I’m crazy?

Quentin: Your on your own. I feel his presence fading.

Me: Wait, Quentin! No! Don’t you dare leave me alone on this!

He’s gone. Damn it. Hearing light beats coming from beside me, I turn to see that Elodie has stood up and is tapping the floor impatiently with her shoe. Her arms are defiantly crossed around her chest and her eyes are leveled menacingly at me. If I hadn’t just lived through the last moments of a another man’s life, I would have thought it was the scariest thing I’d ever seen. Quentin! Help me!