Infectious

Back From the Dead

Pic of Riley :)

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Echoes, dark hallways, a place between dreams and reality yet I can still here the voices around me. And that's when all the sounds come rushing at me all at once like when two waves make a gargantuan sound while colliding. I finally register the faint sound of beeping and I feel restrained. I start to thrash against the cuffs that bind me to a metal table. The Velcro is taken off from one of my wrists and I claw at the persons face, my eyelids still as heavy as bricks.

"What the hell!" I attempt a shriek which sounds more like a hoarse whisper. I finally manage to squint against the harsh light and make out the objects in my surroundings. I notice a series of medical machines and a young woman, around the age of thirty, cradling her now scarred cheek.

"What's your name?" she inquires.

"Raine, wha-what? Why am I chained up!" I exclaim. She heaves a sigh of relief and takes me out of the cuffs. I reach for my right wrist and feel a searing pain shoot up my left shoulder. I wince and try not to move.

"You were shot in the shoulder" the woman informs me. She has a long, dark side braid and milk chocolate skin. She has a slight Indian accent that flavours her every word.

"Thanks for stitching it up," I say. She walks over with a sling and gently slips my arm into it.

"Keep it on for about four days and you should be able to remove it after," she instructs. I should probably get back and rinse the blood off of my clothes.

"What happened?" I inquire, staggering to get to my feet. She gently pushes me back onto my feet.

"There was an attack," she informs me, "there were around twenty men dressed in camouflage suits. They started shooting and that's when you got hit," she explains.

"Get my co-chief," I instruct. She nods and makes a dash for the exit of the tiny, cobwebbed room. I glance down at my shoulder and grunt in frustration. One more problem to add to my list. My mother enters the room and comes to stand by my side.

"Does it hurt?" she asks.

"Like hell," I answer. She gives me a genuine smile and strokes my hair.

"So what happened after I passed out?" I inquire. She removed her hand from my head and begins to explain our little mishap.

"We caught a man and a woman from the attack group," she explains, "they're being held captive right now. You can see them as soon as you're better."

"Okay, let's go," I says. I make my way to the door and my mother hurries to catch up.

"But sweetie," she says as I look up into her brown eyes, "try not to kill them," she pleads with a pained smile.

"Don't worry mum, I'm not losing my humanity yet," I assure her.

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I enter the dimly lit room I've certainly spent too much time in. The wallpaper is fading at the edges like an old story book. When I think about it we're all like that wallpaper. we're slowly crumbling and one day we'll be nothig but ashes in the wind. I guess that's just how life is though. The sight before me is barbaric. The man, whom is around forty with his whispy caramel hair and stubly chin, is tied up to a chair, blindfolded. He repeatedly mutters something to himself as though he's trying to put himself to sleep like when mothers soothingy hum to their children before the fall into their half-conscious state. The woman, she seems to be in her twenties, is around six feet tall and they've attached her to a table thats been bolted to the floor. She attempts rubbing her make-shift handcuffs against the round table leg.