☣FOUR☣
“IS SHE CONSCIOUS?” I hear. It seems as though I have earplugs in. I reach a hand up to my ear to check. Nope, no earplugs.
“Oh, my god!” It sounds like Caila.
“Guess so.” Caleigh. The voice earlier was neither of them.
“K-Kara?” comes Korey’s shaky voice. Korey! I grunt, and blink open my eyes. I immediately snap them shut. A flashlight is beamed on me.
“Caila, go get some water for her.” Jax. Jax??? He was the voice that called my name, as I was dying on a cafeteria table. “Kara. Can you hear me?” I grunt in reply. I inhale through my nose, and smell death. I know what you’re thinking; how can you smell death? My answer? You just can. Once the world ends, you’ll know. If you survive, that is. I open my mouth and try to form words. But, it comes out as, “Whuh ah we?”
“Some abandoned house a few miles away from the Camp,” Korey answers. For once he doesn’t seem excited. He seems… scared.
“Oh,” I say, as my tongue roams around my mouth. I blink my eyes and press a palm to my head, where I feel a sharp pang of pain. I feel a scab. Then my hand flies to my side. I wince as my fingers probe the tender wound. I feel burnt flesh, peeling off. I don’t dare look at it, knowing it might make me throw up. “How…” I pause, my mind foggy, trying to figure out how to word what I want to say. “…long?” I silently curse myself for acting so incompetent in front of this many people. But I’m in so much pain. From my burns and bruises and cuts. And now I have a migraine from just trying to say those six words. I’m pretty beat up.
“Overnight, so only a few hours,” Caila answers, having returned. I close my eyes as someone open my mouth and pours room-temperature water into it. As the water cools my scratchy throat, I try to listen to the conversation. But I can’t. I scrunch my eyes and rub my temples. I feel so vulnerable, just laying here with everyone around me. A memory flashes into my head. Mom laying on the old stone bench in the woods, pale and sweaty, dying of the virus. My hand trails down my face to my cheeks, wet with fresh tears. I hear a jingling of metal hitting metal as Korey approaches. The dog tags around his neck-he says they were his dad’s-are what is making the sound.
“You okay, Kara?” he asks worriedly. I manage a weak nod.
“As ‘okay’ as I…” I say the words slow, and pause to inhale, “…can be. How bad… is it?”
“Would you like the truth, or a lie?” Korey responds. He sounds so much older, not his hyper usual self.
“The truth… please! The truth for… once!” I say, exasperated.
“Jax says maybe two or three weeks. It’s bad. The skin is charred and peeling away. Add that to your other burns and cuts, he’s saying maybe a month,” Korey says grimly. I’m a liability.
“Just… kill me now!” I groan, and blink open my eyes. Jax has his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, shaking his head. Korey pats my shoulder, and leaves the room. Caila and Caleigh follow. I expect Jax to leave, but he doesn’t. He just takes a few steps forward, his arms still crossed, watching me intently.
“What…?” I snap. “Wanna rub it in my face… how you… saved me?”
“No. I wanted to talk about your mutations,” Jax answers simply. I reach up and feel my wings through my undershirt, where holes were cut for them to poke through. “Not those. What about your exceptionally fast healing rate?”
“I don’t-” And then it dawns on me. The ankle-the scratches-all healed within a few days. “I didn’t know about it. How do you…?” My speech is getting better as the fog slowly clears.
“Well, for instance, when our doctors-if you can call them that- at the camp examined your ankle, they said it was a sprain. In two days it was practically healed. And that burn of yours, well, let’s say it was much, much worse when I found you,” Jax says. I clear my throat awkwardly. I bite my lip to keep from crying out as I prop myself up. Jax hands me a bottle of water and I gently lift the rim to my dry lips. I lick my lips and swallow a mouthful of water. Jax watches me. I watch him back.
“What?” I ask slowly. Jax shakes his head and shrugs. “You know, it’s rude to stare. Do I have a booger or something?” Jax smiles, stifling a laugh.
“No. You’re just… odd.” And with that, he leaves. I look at the room I’m in. A nursery. I’m tucked tightly-or I was-into a small twin-sized bed. I kick the sheets off, and struggle to my feet. I’m exhausted, even though I just ‘woke up’. I search through the cabinets, though they’re mostly empty. I find a baby bottle, a “binky” (pacifier), and an old baby blanket. I set aside the blanket and bottle, and work on the binky. I cut off the tip with my teeth (why doesn’t anyone keep scissors in a nursery? Oh, right! The babies, and all). I chew a tiny hole in the end.
“What good will this do? It’s not like we’ll need a funnel anytime soon!” I say to myself. Regardless, I continue working. Just to make myself feel less like a liability, I guess. I barely register the door opening until Caila is at my side.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asks casually, flipping her dreadlocks over her shoulder.
“Making a funnel. I don’t know why,” I reply, my hands flying. Somehow I found duct-tape, and I am now using it to make the funnel wider.
“Smart. I never would’ve thought of that!” I can tell she’s trying to make me feel better. “What’re you gonna do with the bottle and the blanket?”
“Store water in the bottle. Either somehow make the blanket into a pack of sorts, or use it as a blanket,” I respond, agitated. “Look, you don’t have to make me feel better. I know I’m a liability, so just leave me alone while I heal and become less of a liability!” I’m near shouting. Caila whimpers, like a dog, and exits quickly. I immediately regret what I said. After finishing the funnel and fumbling with the blanket for awhile, I curl up in the bed and fall asleep.
When I wake, my first instinct is to check on my injury. I don’t know how bad it was before, but it sure is bad. I run my hands over the burn. It doesn’t feel as bad as it did yesterday. I find some alcohol wipes-they had wiped the wound off once before, but it really never stops bleeding. I stifle a scream as I press the wipe to a section of the wound. It comes away covered in dried blood. The bleeding has stopped for now. After maybe ten minutes full of whispered screams and winces, the wound is clean. Time to venture outside of this nursery. I wrap the blanket-rather thin it is- around my stomach to soak up the blood and walk out. The house is small, smaller than my family’s home. Everyone is gathered around a dusty dinner table. I can hear their hushed conversations, but can’t make out why they’re saying. All conversation halts when they spot me.
“You should be resting,” Caleigh hisses.
“I feel fine,” I say mildly, and sit beside Korey, Caila on the other side of him.
“You sure?” Korey asks me quietly. I nod and give a small smile to prove it. Jax smiles, letting out a little huff of air. He didn’t tell them about my other mutations. I scoot back a bit and stretch my wings, sore from my day of rest. I fold and unfold them a few times, letting their beautiful golden color catch the few rays of sun poking in through the boarded-up windows. The color matches my hair. I then tuck them tightly against my back, smiling as everyone stares, but Caleigh. She flutters her small insect wings a few times and leaves the table rather abruptly. My cheeks flush with guilt, and I study the table as Caila sets a plate of crackers in front of me. My fingers quickly crack the crackers into halves and put them in my mouth. I don’t realize how hungry I am until the food is in my mouth. I try not to eat too fast, knowing I might get sick. Once the crackers are gone, I lean back, not full, I never am, but decently content.
“So. What do we do now?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“I guess, once you feel better, we’ll head back to the Camp and check for survivors,” Jax says. He sips from his water bottle and sets it down, his finger idly tracing the rim.
“Alright,” I say.
Science Fiction
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