Down With The Sickness (v.2)

I glance at my watch, quarter-to-three, great, the game doesn’t start for another 15 minutes. I walk faster, I don’t care how stupid I look, that bitch already took everything from me; my kids, my car, hell, even my pride. I don’t really care, as long as I have clothes on my back and a heartbeat, I’m fine.

I peer at the time again, ten-to. The streets are awfully empty for a Sunday afternoon, but then again it is Superbowl Sunday, it’s eerily quiet despite the shuffling of garbage in the next alley, I wonder what it is, a stray cat? The garbage men? Working on the Superbowl? I doubt that, I chuckle at the idea.

Now I hear mumbling and growling coming from the alley as I approach it. A drunken lunatic who’s too into the spirit of today? “Whatever it is, don’t look,” I say to myself “I might piss him off”

Damn my curiosity. I quickly peer into the dark alley in the very corner of my periphery. I was right in my assumption. About 30 feet into the alley is a shadowed figure, appearing to struggle to stand. He turns, facing the street I’m walking in “Ah crap,” I mumble to myself. I know he saw me. I hear bare feet slapping the concrete. I break into a full sprint, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let this guy make this day any worse.

Right at the edge of my field of vision, I see a thin black thing flailing about. Crap, my shoelace! Just as I realise that my shoelace is undone, I trip over it. I hadn’t a chance recuperate from the fall as the maniac was on my back clawing at my shoulder blades, I manage to throw him off and roll onto my back as he lunges onto me again. I throw my arms up in defence and close my eyes tightly. I feel a sudden pain and open my eyes to the man with his teeth dug deep into my arm. I notice how dirty his skin is, and how he appears to drools like an infant, and how his eyes are extremely bloodshot.

I punch the man fair in the temple; he hardly flinches, I see half a hockey stick lying next to a garbage can. I grab it and swing with all my might at the man’s head, I hear his skull crack from the impact of the blow, his teeth also loosen on my arm. I pull it out of his salivating jaws and jump to my feet, I don’t stop running until I reach my apartment.

My lungs are burning, I’m hardly able to breathe, I see stars and pass out, falling on the couch.

I awake several hours later to the neighbours screaming and cheering, Damn, I slept through the game, I might as well see who won. As I grab the remote I notice that the bite on my arm has swollen up and the surrounding skin is a dark purple. “I should probably get that checked out..” I think to myself. I flip to the 24/7 news channel, and notice the time: 7:14. “Hmm, I’ll go tomorrow.’ I change into a pair of boxers and a singlet, my usual sleepwear. I then climb into bed and fall asleep by twenty-past-seven.

I wake up about an hour later with something forcing itself up my throat , I tumble out of the bed and crawl to the adjacent bathroom and put my head over the toilet bowl just as a large, constant stream of bile and lunch shoots from my mouth, This goes on for about 10 seconds until it suddenly ceases, I hit the flush button without even glancing at the mess I made. I turn to the sink to clean myself, and notice the bite again, it looks worse than it did an hour ago: it now has a small trail of pus oozing from the holes. I open the medicine cabinet to wrap it up. I do a double take when I notice that there’s something wrong with my face in the split second I see my face in the mirror. Upon the second glance at the reflection, I see a paler complexion with heavy rings around its eyes looking back at me. I continue to wrap my arm and go back to bed, struggling to do so, I did some damage to my knees when I crawled into the bathroom.

The whole vomiting episode happens once more, only this time I’m sure I have a fever. After cleaning myself of vomit again, I check my temperature; 105°^F. Wow, I’m definitely taking tomorrow off. I struggle into bed again, now with all joints aching. I fall asleep pretty fast this time.

I awake once again in the morning, this time to the sound of the alarm clock. I feel kind of better now, though I still have the fever from last night. I’m still going to call in sick, just to be safe. I climb out, but collapse as soon as I try to stand. “Oh god, my legs!” I punch them a few times in a failed attempt to bring feeling back into them again. I drag myself to the phone and call the emergency services. I sat against the back of the couch, getting increasingly dizzier as I wait. The paramedics burst through the door, this is the last thing I see before I pass out.

Distant screams and cries draw me back into consciousness. I open my eyes to a blurred vision, everything has a kind of bloodstained, red tinge to it, and for some messed up reason, I want to kill someone, anyone. I try to call out for someone, but all that comes out is a mixture of mumbles and growls, I also keep salivating uncontrollably. I arise out of the bed, still growling and gurgling, the saliva rolling down my chin and onto the floor, I see that it also has blood mixed into it. I suddenly lurch forward, throwing up the contents of my stomach yet again, only this time, a mixture of bile and my own blood, burning my oesophagus on the way up. I stagger towards the door of the ward and collapse after a few steps. This is the last thing I remember before everything goes black one last time.