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“So, like, how long, exactly, will that cure take?” Bryan asked, hand carefully hidden in his jacket. Just hold on a little longer, he thought. I can do that. I can totally do that.
Something in his arm moved. It felt like a worm under his skin and he knew if he moved his sleeve to check he’d either throw up or piss himself.
“What the fuck is he still doing here?” one of the scientists asked, gesturing at Bryan. Another one just shrugged.
“If you could hurry with that, that would be great,” Bryan said, scooting his chair closer.
A researcher glanced at him before rolling his eyes. Something inside of Bryan churned. He could actually feel the… the… tendrils of his arm react. He lurched forward, hitting the floor so he could better contain what was happening to him. He crushed his arm between himself and the floor, praying that these people would just hurry.
“Jesus, is he okay?” someone asked.
“Sir, you have to get out of here,” another person said.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Bryan insisted. “Just… please finish that serum,” he trailed off into a laugh that sounded far more pained than he intended. He thought he could taste blood in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if it’s his own.
His whole body felt like it was fighting him. He was sure that if he looked in a mirror he wouldn’t be able to recognize himself. No worries, no worries at all. He’s going to be fine in a minute. He’s going to be fine and so will everyone else and he’s going to go home to Michelle (who will NOT be staying at Katie’s!) and they’re going to pick out baby names and paint a nursery or whatever shit parents do. He’s going to buy enough guns to fill a personal armory and he’s going to go to a goddamn shooting range and this is never going to happen ever again.
“Done!” someone announces.
Bryan doesn’t even think. He shot right up, lunging for whoever spoke. They gasp in shock (fear?) at the sight of him, the syringe with a bright green liquid dropping from their hands.
“Holy shit! He’s infected!” the woman screams.
“No, I’m-” Bryan drops to the floor, grasping at the syringe. Some part of him reaches out and wraps around the woman, knocking her to the floor. “I’m okay.”
He fumbles for a moment, hands shaking beyond belief as he attempts to point the needle at a vein. Fuck it, it’ll hit something, he thought before jamming it straight into his thigh and pushing the plunger down.
It could only be described as instant relief. It felt like putting aloe vera on a burn or ice on a bruise. These guys must be great at their jobs, because the cure worked wonders. Bryan gasped, leaning forward on all fours. Four… his hand! Holy shit, his hand was back to normal!
Well… basically. There was a weird texture and noticeable scarring that he didn’t even want to think about right now lest it ruin this moment for him.
“You asshole!” the first scientist shouted. “You came here infected and took the cure!? What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“Oh my god, make another one. You dickheads are the ones that caused this and there was, like, a huge thing of… sample in that bag,” Bryan said, a big smile on his face as he rolled up his sleeve to look at the bite. The black veins were all gone, as was the noticeable infection around the bite. All that was left was a red scar from the bite of a little girl.
Shit. He’s going to have to process that later.
Slowly, with hands shaking from exhaustion instead of sickness, Bryan reached into his coat pocket and removed the courier form for an accepted package.
“Who wants to sign this?”