The Serum

T H R E E.

"Somewhere over the rainbow.." I belt, singing at the top of my lungs. The same police officer who hauled me in here swivels in his cracked leather seat and gives me the stink eye, his fleshy face twitching. 

"Shut up." He growls, banging on my cell door. I lift a shoulder lazily as he approaches my cell.

His huge potbelly jiggles when he puts his hands on his hips. 

"Yeesh, dude, you may want to consider dieting. That can't be healthy." His face flushes a lobster red and my stomach growls. I had skipped dinner in anticipation for tonight and hear, in this slimy cell, I'm seriously regretting that decision. 

"Stupid teenager," he mutters, lumbering off.

"Porky," I say under my breath. Sinking against the moldy wall, I rest my head. I just want to go home to the comfort of my soft, plush bed. But knowing my mom, I'd rather stay here, away from her evil death eye. That's what Dad and I used to call the look. I chuckle softly to myself, letting the memories screen leisurely through my head. Dad and I hiking. Having a picnic. Baking disastrous cookies. Celebrating my 10th birthday. Meeting Sam at school. Listening the first song he wrote for me. The first time he asked me out. My eyes mist and I tilt my head back, trying to force the tears back. 

Two unwanted memories play through my head, so vivid it feels as I'm there again.

"Ms. Selburn?" The nurse calls gently, guilt and sympathy shining in her eyes. I follow her to Dad's hospital room warily, knowing that whatever's in the room isn't good. I hastily walk in and my heart seems to stutter. Dad's breaths are labored, weak, rasping. Not normal whatsoever. Every once in a while, he seizes, his limbs twitching before falling silent. I wrap his hand in mine and duck my head, breathing in stuffy air. I knew that when Dad tested positive it was a lost cause. The one vaccine we had is unpredictable at best. Not many people have walked out alive. 

Suddenly, he gasps and I bolt to my feet.

"Dad!" I cry when I see his eyes flutter open. Hope unfurls in me.

"Oh, Liz," he mumbles, his voice so hoarse it's almost unrecognizable.

"You'll be okay. I know it." I promise him. I know it's not true, but it feels good to say it aloud anyways. He musters a dry laugh.

"Depends on what 'okay' means." He adopts a more grim expression. "Take care of your mother, Lizzy. She'll need it. And don't get hung up on me. Live your life. Promise me." 

I can't bring myself to make his promise and just watch as he drifts back into his restless sleep. Mom takes me by the shoulders and marches me away, stifling her own tears. At 17, I'm old enough to know what will happen to him. How he'll mutate to become a creature of the night. 

A terrible week later, Dad dies and we're back at the hospital, this time for a different person. I can't stop the tears as I watch Sam convulse in the flimsy hospital cot. He yelps then falls silent again, deathly feverish. I stay by his side day and night and no one tries to pull me away. They won't do that to me. 

Three days later, when sleep starts to catch up to me, I hear Sam stir. I clutch his hand and dot his brow with a cold cloth. His eyes open weakly and his lips pull into that lopsided smile I fell in love with.

"Hey." He croaks.

"Hey," I reply, my voice breaking. He holds my hand with his other, so hot.

"You'll be okay, love." He whispers to me, eyes peaceful. He's come to terms with this. I haven't.

"That's the understatement of the century." I laugh bitterly. "My father just died and now the man I love is going to be gone too."