The Passing

Chapter Sixteen [updated]

No one talks about how difficult sleep is when your world could end at any given second. As time trudges forward, the symptoms saunter their way in, ruthless and painstakingly slow they taunt me through the night. The fever has set in, rearing its ugly head throughout my entire body and drenching me in sweat. The cruel night so delicately brushes us with whispers of the gradual change of seasons. Bitter cold air sweeps through the forest floor. Thousands of goosebumps cover my shivering body, regardless of the little fire we've made to keep us warm. Any moment, my teeth could shatter from the immense pressure my jaw presses against them, just to keep me from chattering.

Lazarus volunteered to stay up and keep watch over us while we all rested, and I'd hate it if he knew I wasn't getting even a minute of sleep. Truly, I wish I could. Yet, every time I close my eyes, all I see are the eyes of the dead; hundreds of faces in various stages of decay, both familiar and strange, all a reminder of my impending fate. The moans of the dead can always be heard, no matter where you are, their cries permanently etched into our brains for eternity. However, now it's like they're constantly at my back, breathing down my neck. It takes everything in me not to jump at every growl, and I am constantly reminding myself, if they were even close, Lazarus would get us out. Already, he's done more than enough at every given opportunity to make this as easy as possible. While I am grateful for it, I can't help but feel guilty for accepting his kindness.

Twigs snap nearby, and my entire body tenses us.

That was real.

Lazarus shifts into position as dragging feet lur in the woods.

"Oh," he lets go of his held breath and I hear him set the machete back down. "it's just you." He says, instantly relaxed.

"Sorry," Jane's boots scuff the ground as she goes back to her spot. "I saw some mountain mint and I had to grab some." silence settles back between them as the small fire crackles.

"Can I ask you something, Jane?" The low tone of his voice tells me he's deep in thought, and I can only picture how furrowed his brows are, or how much he's biting his cheek. Even with my back turned, I can't help but blush at the mere thought of him.

"You said you worked directly under that doctor?"

"I did. Yes."

"So you've seen this... progression. Studied it."

"Yeah. Why?"

"Is it possible to treat it?" Lazarus hangs on to every word she says, gripping it with desperate white knuckles. He just wants hope. "I know it can't be cured. I know. But, can it be slowed? Stopped even? There has to be something."

"I know of some herbal remedies that may be able to alleviate some of her symptoms, but I'm not sure what you're asking. The virus she has is the same as all of them out there."

Them. The roamers. She already sees me as one.

"I know."

"So, then you know that I can't treat a virus that has no treatment. There's no slowing it down. Trust me, I've tried."

"But, you can treat her symptoms, make her comfortable?"

Jane hesitates before answering. "Yes. I can treat her symptoms. Just not the virus."

"Then do it. Try it. Do whatever it takes to keep her alive as long as possible."

"I hear you Lazarus, I do, but you must not be understanding me. She was bitten. I can stop the bleeding, I can give her all the homeopathic remedies I can possibly remember, but nothing is going to stop the next stage from happening. No matter how much you want it to." her words come out soft, but cold, as if she has some kind of hidden resentment. Laying here, pretending to sleep, all I can do is stare blankly ahead at the tree next to me. Lazarus moves and the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots fills the quiet void between their hushed conversation.