Cured [ManxMan]

Chapter Three

An incessant beeping came from my right, and my right elbow itched from the needle Kiara stuck there. I didn't think zombies really needed fluids, but that didn't stop her from stringing up an IV.

Still, she waited until an entire bag had emptied into my arm, petering around the room doing nothing and watching me out of the corner of her eye, before approaching again. The entire time, Ajay stood in the corner, not moving, but his eyes following the doctor and occasionally flicking to me and back. They narrowed when I growled at her approach, but I was too weak and tired to do much more, and they both seemed fully aware of that.

"I think it's time," Kiara said, her voice shaking. Ajay didn't respond, but he did come forward to stand behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Somehow, the weight made her stand taller, stronger, and she smiled back at him before holding up a syringe filled with a bright blue liquid. She flicked it, pushing the plunger until a single drop wavered on the tip before inserting it into a port where the IV entered my arm and depressing the plunger all the way.

The three of us stared at the spot, waiting for something to happen, but there was no indication it had done anything. Apparently satisfied, Kiara smiled and hung another bag on the IV stand and switched the line. She checked my vitals again, now with the help of the annoying machine, though she still shined the infernal light in my eyes. Whatever it told her must have been good, because when she was done, she smiled at me again before patting my hand—still covered by the protective mitten—and starting to pack up her supplies.

I was relieved she was leaving, though still a little apprehensive about whatever she put in my arm. Still, Kiara and Ajay seemed calmer since the initial injection had no effect, and I had to hope that was a good thing. In fact, maybe I was worried over nothing. Maybe it wouldn't do anything at all.

As if to spite me for the hopeful thought, my arm twitched. Kiara paused her packing to watch, her dark eyes trained on . My hand shook, rattling the cuff holding my wrist in place, and my arm jerked again. It ached, a dull, throbbing pain that spread from my fingertips, up my forearm and bicep and into my shoulder. My entire arm spasmed, yanking at the needle in my arm, sending flares of pain from the crook of my elbow.

"Shit," Kiara dropped what she was doing to step forward, holding my arm down so I wouldn't yank the IV out. A moan bubbled out of my throat as the ache spread across my chest, the shaking not far behind. Across my torso and other arm, down my hips and all the way down my legs, until my entire body burned.

I remembered the feeling of electricity from earlier in the day, how much it had hurt, worse than anything I could remember. This was somehow so much worse. My entire body locked up, every muscles seizing, pulling taut, and I started to scream, the sound ripping through my throat. I pulled at the straps and cuffs holding me down, desperate for escape, escape from this place and these people, escape from whatever they were doing to me.

Somewhere past the waves of pain wracking my body I heard shouting, felt hands on me, trying to hold me still. With no input from me, my muscles seized again, yanking out of several grips before the hands returned and I found myself pinned thoroughly to the bed, my muscles twitching but unable to move with the weight of several humans holding me down.

I gasped for air as the wave receded, leaving me weak and trembling. The voices were clearer, some voices shouting about different amounts of drugs, most of the suggestions quickly shot down by Kiara, who sounded panicked. I thought the hands on my face must be hers, forcing my eyelids open so she could shine that light in them again. I didn't even have the strength to flinch away.

A shudder ripped through me, drawing a whimper as the wave built again. I didn't want this. Please. No more. I can't take any more.

My silent, hopeless begging had no effect. The wave still crashed over me, taking with it all peace and logical thought. I was in an incinerator, every inch of my flesh flaying from my bones, my muscles pulling at both and ripping them further apart. This was the end. My body was going to rip itself apart, every cell separating from each other, until I was sure I would be left as a puddle on this hospital bed, until there would be nothing left of me. My mouth fell open and I screamed, and screamed, and screamed, the ache in my throat barely registering through the agony that was the rest of me.