A Traveler's Burden

Red Skin Against Cold Walls

Norman walked into the stone tent through a door he had made with a wooden plank some years ago. He placed the plank behind himself again and went to sit on the bench, which he had recently moved to next to the window.

The brown haired male sat down with a creak, both of his bones and of the bench below him. He sat in silence for a while, unsure of why he had come. He needed time alone for himself, really. So much had happened in the past few days, and he knew that even more would happen soon.

When would it really begin? When would it get so bad, that he would have to leave? He had months to live, probably, but was it truly living after the first week? What about Holden?

He cleared his head for a moment, staring blankly at the red mark on the wall. What would Janis do? What she would do is something he knew he didn't have the guts for. He sighed and leaned against the wall, but quickly flinched away when he felt a burning sensation on his arm. He almost immediately went to grab his arm, looking at it in fear, nearly trembling. He knew what this was, he had seen it happen before.

His whole upper arm was bright red now, and a few of the bumps had opened up in to almost cysts. This was going faster than he thought. When had the bumps first appeared? This morning? Perhaps.. Or was it earlier? Had he just not noticed before? He always had small infections on his body, infected hairs or pimples, so he may have just not noticed.

No... Any bumps near the cut, he would've taken notice to. He had started today, and already they were beginning to open and his arm was becoming raw from the infection spreading.

"Perhaps a first aid kit..." He muttered to himself, almost trying to calm himself down, but that only made it worse. He quickly stood up and began to pace. An aid kit would be useless and he knew it. This was no infection of that type. No, he doubted even a removal of his arm would help at this point. He had heard the stories of them trying that before on the Dead, but the infection made its way quickly to the bloodstream, which made the procedure pointless in the end.

Norman sat back down. What would he do? He began to pick nervously at some loose bits of the bench. What could be done? This was out of his own control, now? He leaned against the wall yet again, careful of his arm this time. The stone felt cool against his back, even through his shirt. It made the air feel warmer, despite it being cooler than the air outside. It was a wonder how the stone tent was almost always cooler than the outdoors in the summer, and warmer in the winter. He could never fully guess what made it that way. Perhaps it was the plants, or the lighting. Or even just the dirt on the ground.

Norman began to feel his eyelids grow heavy as he pondered, yet again, over the stone tent. There was a slight leak from previous rains, which fell from a crack in the roof into a puddle on the floor. The sound of the soft dripping began to soothe him and he eventually drifted off to sleep.