My knuckles turned white from clutching the gauze in a tight, trembling fist. I could not believe I had let that happen; I was always so careful - so methodical - it had been the same routine-
No!
No, I had not let it become routine, right? Had I? I don't know! God, I was so frustrated.
I held my breath as I relaxed my grip and slowly, I opened my hand. The blood soaked ball of gauze expanded and unfolded as I let go and it seemed to blossom like a rose. Layers of the perforated tissue clung to the wound as I pulled it back from the site.
As if I was surprised to see it still there, I cursed and thrashed about in the chair like a madman in a straight jacket. In the throws of my fit, I stood from the chair, crossed the rotted wood floor in two deliberate strides - boards shrieking in protest under my heavy boots - and I kicked it with all I had.
Only one foot still had a shoe on it, a tattered sneaker, but both feet pointed toes at the ceiling. The dead bastard ... fuckin' bite me, who do you think you are?
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I know the incubation period for the virus was usually two minutes, depending on the bite. Fever and involuntary muscle spasms came first. Then over-salvation, then, well..then someone puts two in your forehead and you're staring at the ceiling.
"Ain't that right, Bub?" I tried to spit on the corpse but my mouth was so dry, "yea, you know."
All I could do was wait
Nothing, so far.
Keep moving. Yea, maybe that would help the muscles stay loose. So I paced the room.
I clenched my right fist in my left hand, and held it out in front of me like I was carrying a hot plate through a crowded kitchen.
Keep pressure on it, I thought, and I squeezed the last of the gauze from my med-kit as hard as I could. It occurred to me, in one dreadful moment of comprehension, that it was not what bleeds out that I need worry about, but, rather, what had gone in.
I tried to keep track of time but I couldn't focus. I was pretty sure it had been three minutes, and still nothing. Only symptom I had experienced so far, was dry mouth. Which is not to say that it was anything but excruciating, At least, it was just that to deal with. Of course the one time that the Lawson boy offers to carry the water, my throat dries up like the Sahara.
A white noise began to build in my ears. Not quite constant, but, like - running water, maybe? Then it found a rhythm, like a beat.
"Butler you up there?" a voice called from downstairs.
Finally the kid responds to the shots of the double-tap I put the infected down with. I decided to wait because he had to see the tight grouping on the two dark holes I put in the chump. I'd taught the kid to shoot and I wanted to prove I still had it, because whether or not he had noticed, my aim had been off more and more recently. A student needs to be reminded who the teacher is, from time to time.
"Butts, you up here?" I could hear the kid, he was upstairs now
I tried to call out to let him know where I was, but my throat felt like sandpaper.
Now, that sound was louder, and sounded more like...a pulse.
The Lawson kid appeared in the doorway. A visceral jolt seemed to electrify the kids body, he was so startled. All of a sudden, he leveled his rifle - at me?
Again, I tried to say, "Wow, kid, I already killed the son of a bitch. I did get bit, but look at me, I'm fine." But, my mouth felt dry, even dusty, so it came out in an odd guttural groan.
"I just need the water, I'm dying here, buddy."
I noticed there was something different about him. Then, I saw these little lines - a whole network of them - wrigglin just beneath his skin. That sound had gotten so much louder. Was it emitting from Lawson? That's ridiculous. It sounded like the churning of a washing machine.
Maybe I'll just show him the bite and explain what happened. I started towards him, holding my hand stretched out in front of me, "See, look, it's nothing."
Suddenly my mouth watered to the point I think I drooled. There was a coppery tinge to the taste. More. I needed more of that taste. The sound was pulsing in waves beneath his skin. I had this ravenous lust to bite into his arm - what the fu-
If I did, just once, that terrible noise would stop - my thirst, quenched.
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I wanted to yell at the prick, "Don't point that shit at me, I'm not sick. Yeah, I got bit - but I survived."
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