Love Bites ~ Craig of the Dead au ~ Tricia x Karen fan fiction [COMPLETE]

30

Head pounding, I wake up to the sound of drilling. My eyelids are heavy and my forehead is covered in an uncomfortably sticky layer of sweat.

I fight the tiredness that begs me to drift back into that wondrous unconsciousness and slowly open my eyes so I can adjust to the bright lights above. They feel like home.

Sadly, once I have my eyes fully open I can see that this place is not home, although I don't really know where 'home' is these days.

I also don't know where this place is. I definitely haven't been in here before, but there's nobody around that I can ask.

It's quite a large room, with pure white tiled walls, flooring and ceiling. I can't see any door, but it could be hidden somewhere. The room is poorly decorated, with only a bookshelf in one corner, a small table and chair in another, and a bedside table beside me.

When I realise I'm not sat on the floor, I look down and find myself lying on what appears to be a hospital bed, with raised sides and a clipboard holder on the end. I shuffle to the end of the bed to take a peek at the clipboard tucked in it, but the writing isn't in English and the only words I can make out are my name.

On one of the walls of the room is a mirror, a wide rectangular one that is giving me a bad feeling. It could be one of those one-way glass mirrors and they could be watching me from the other side. I raise a middle finger in the direction of the mirror, just in case they are watching me.

When I move my arm, I realise that I'm connected to one of those hospital things that have the blood bags in them, except instead of blood, the bag has some weird yellow liquid inside.

A pain in my chest suddenly awakens and my hand automatically goes to clutch at the area, but instead of feeling clothing or skin, I find bandages. Bloody bandages that are wound around my entire top section, covering my breasts.

"Oh my god, they've stolen my tits!" I cry out in horror, fingers trying to grab the end of the bandage to unwind it and see the damage they've caused.

"We 'ave done no such thing," a familiar voice laughs from across the room. I look up to see him, the short guy from the minibus with the cigarettes. He silently makes his way across the room and stands at the side of my bed, towering over me, "What would we need a child's breasts for?"

"I dunno." I mumble.

Another wave of pain washes over me and I have to squeeze my eyes shut in an effort not to cry in front of this stranger.

"Here," He hands me a small silver rectangle and a glass of water from the bedside table, "This will make you feel better."

"Oh yeah? How do I know it won't kill me?" I toss the rectangle to the opposite side of the bed.

"Unless you're asthmatic or pregnant, you should be fine taking some ibuprofen." He takes the rectangle from the bed and hands it to me again, forcefully, in a way that says 'take this or I'll kill you myself'.

Reluctantly, I pop one of the tablets out of the rectangle and take it with some water. Unfortunately it is room temperature water, but at least it isn't poison.

I take the other tablet and throw the rectangle back at him.

"Jeez, what's your deal, lady?" He scowls.

"Um, let's see... I've been shot, kidnapped, filled with some weird yellow liquid and I'm being spoken to like I'm the bad guy here?"

The guy rolls his eyes, "God, you're all so dramatic. You try to find ze molehill, and when you find it, you fucking complain. I knew coming to America was a bad idea..."

"Wait, this is the molehill?"

"Are you hard of hearing like the other girl? Yes, the molehill."

So this is the place we've heard about? The place I was expecting to be some kind of government lab or safe zone?

Disappointing.

"So what's the deal here?" I ask, "Like, you just kidnap people and don't explain why?"

"This is only part one of the process. We're killing off any infections you may have with this," he points to the bag of yellow liquid, "Then you go through the test."

"Test?"

"God, how many questions do you have?" He slams a fist on the bedside table, "At least let me finish fucking explaining first, you American asshole!"

"Fuck you, you.. you..." I trail off, unable to think of a comeback. Damn, it must be the tiredness.

Something beeps and the guy pulls a small rectangle out of his pocket.

"Time's up. I don't want to be exposed for anything for too long even if I'm immune. We're not sure if the virus has mutated recently so it's better safe than sorry."

He starts heading towards the mirror, where I'm assuming a hidden door is.

"Wait!" I yell, "You can't leave me here! How long am I going to be here? Can I see the others? Can I please see Karen? Please, you've got to let me see her!"

He looks over his shoulder, "I'm sorry, Tricia, but that isn't possible."

With a metallic scrape, a small rectangle of the wall opposite my bed opens up and he leaves through it. Before I can grab my weird bag holder thing and hobble over, it closes.

"You fucker!" I scream, "Let me see her! I have to see her, I need to be with her!"

As another wave of chest pain knocks me back, I let out an anger fuelled screech that echoes in the room. It's purely animalistic and once I'm finished I'm surprised that it came out of me.

My throat burns, but I screech again, and again, and again, until I'm so exhausted that I pass out right in front of where the door should be.