There he is. After he was shot, my dad went into a coma. He missed my birthday. I don't know why I'm so shocked by it, but when I was 11 a few weeks ago, I cried the entire night knowing I wouldn't see him smiling, wishing me a happy birthday when I woke up. His shirts off and I can see the bandage around his stomach. Mom cries, and Shane just looks down sad.
He and Dad were best friends before Dad was shot. They were chasing a stolen car and a man that wasn't supposed to be there was there and he shot Dad. Shane killed him. It makes me scared to think that I'm in a room with someone that I know killed three people, even if they did shoot my dad. But we only know that he killed one for sure.
There's nothing to do here. I can't be sad, I already did that weeks ago. I can only be bored and look at my dads unconscious body. Maybe he'll wake up sometime soon. But what if he never does. The screaming stops. We've been hearing screams ever since we got here to visit Dad. Shane and Mom both look up. Doctor Stevens told me earlier that the woman in that room was pregnant. Mom says Doctor Stevens was the doctor that delivered me. I can hear his voice through the wall.
"I'm sorry sir, but your wife has passed. She began to hemorrhage and there was nothing we could do to stop it" He says.
"You could have tried!" I hear a man shout. He's angry, but his voice is cracking. I can almost hear his sobs.
"We did. there was nothing that we were capable of doing," I know I shouldn't, but now I hate Doctor Stevens, even if he did try. The woman still is dead, and her husband probably wishes that he was. "And I have some more bad news. Your daughter has an infection in her blood, and it's going up to her brain. She has an incredibly high fever and it's doubtful that she'll live. This infection is unknown to us and we're at a loss. Unfortunately, she also will pass soon. If there was anything we could do, we'd do it. But all we can ask of you is to make a decision. You may spend a few hours with her before her death, but she'll be in agony. Or you could give her to us for euthanasia."
I know what euthanasia is, and at the moment I can't hate the doctor more. He doesn't seem sad at all. I know he probably is, but how can someone give somebody this choice and stay so emotionless.
The man sighs before he says anything. " I can't do that to a baby I guess you should just..." He broke down sobbing and yelling and crying.
"Carl, baby, cover your ears you shouldn't hear that" Mom says.
"No, mom. It doesn't matter." I guess after all that's happened I can finally pull together the courage to say no to mom.
" CARL, YOU-"
"Lori, shut up. That dude's already having a bad day, it'd be worse if he found out we were talking about him." Shane interrupts her.
"You don't tell me what to do. ever" Mom says.
"Alright but just don't make the guys day worse"
By now we can hear footsteps as a nurse we assume carries the baby away. I wonder what it has to be like to be him. He's about to kill a baby. What's he thinking now. Will he be able to do it. I wonder if this can happen again. Maybe sometime they'll find a cure.
I can't believe the guy could do that to his daughter. Just decide to kill her. Can I do it? She's still twisting in my arms while I hug her to my chest. Maybe if I hug hard enough she'll cool down a bit. She must feel like she's freezing now, but when I feel the baby girl's head it feels like my hand will melt to her face. I've been working with Stevens delivering babies for about a year, depending on where you start count, and I've never had to do something like this. I take her out to the morgue, trying to prepare myself for what I'm about to do. I feel like crying now, I probably am.
I pass a man in the hall, he has his small daughter with him, she's probably only six or seven. We meet eyes and he understands instantly I'm about to do something terrible, and he gives me a nod of apology. He's a big guy, but it's clear that he cares for his daughter very much, and he seems awful nice. I wonder what he'd do if his daughter had this infection.
"Thanks for taking me to get my stomach fixed, Daddy" the little girl says.
"Of course punkin. I'd do anythin' for you. anythin'." He has a deep voice, but he sounds sad. His wife isn't there. Whatever happened to her it must of been a while ago. The little girl seems pretty happy.
I'm about ten feet away from never being able to look at myself in the mirror. five feet. two feet. I pull a door open and all the preparations I took instantly leave me. I can't do this. but I have to. Damn it! I set her down on a table, let her lay down in the blanket. I find the cabinet with the lethal injections and get ready. I lower the tip of the needle down to a large vein on her arm, just below the wrist. Breathe in. Breathe out. She squirms as if she knows what's about to happen. What if she does, somehow. I close my eyes and lower the needle into her neck. she yells and I push the plunger down as fast as I can. She squirms for a minute more, and then she's still. That's when I crack open like a dam bursting. tears pour out my eyes, and all I can do is stare at her, for minutes and half hours and hours. Doctor Stevens came in and he saw me after a while, but he said he'd try to get me relieved for the rest of the day when he saw me crying. God bless him. Then she stirs.
Her eyes open. They're a monotonous shade of yellow, almost the color of bile. I can hear a growl form and then she turns her head to me. What the hell is happening? She flips herself over and tries to stand up, but she falls. But she doesn't just fall off of her feet, her muscles still to weak to support her. She falls off the entire table and lands on her back. I hear snap as both her vertebrae and neck snap. She should be dead but she just keeps coming. What is this? Why is this happening? she crawls slowly over to me. I try to pick her up, help her, but a searing pain fill my entire arm as she snaps at my hand, teeth tearing through my finger. I recoil involuntarily and scream. She isn't a little baby anymore. she's a monster. My stomach lurches as I figure out my next step. I stomp. Her back, her legs, arms. All I do slows her down, but she never stops. Then I get one lucky shot. Her skull is soft and undeveloped and my foot crashes through it into her frontal and parietal lobe. This stops her in her track. There is blood and brain tissue everywhere. And a weird muck that doesn't even exist. The next step is obvious. I vomit. I can't stop heaving until my stomachs empty. Now all that's left is this headache. I guess I should clean up the mess but I feel so weak. I'll take advantage of my time off I guess, maybe I'll get some rest.
Realization struck me in the car. Whatever she had, I have. I'm going to become one of her. Wait no. Yes. NO? She was a baby, a newborn. I'm a grown man. I can survive this. I'm a grown man. But I can't stop thinking about my pet turtle. Jerry died twenty years ago. He was so cute. what am I doing?! I'm dying. No I'm not. I'll survive. I won't be able to go to work tomorrow. what if I infect everyone else? That's CRAP! I'm fine. I'll just go to sleep. Yeah. sleep'll make it better. I pull up by my house. Jeez, what was wrong with those guys and their middle fingers, and honks and all of their random steering? You're not supposed to stay between the lines. You ride right on it. Oh my god what did I do? I could have killed someone. I could have caused an accident. Nah. I'm good. I'll just go to sleep. I wish the door's keyhole would stop moving around, I've missed it like five times now. Oh Jesus what's wrong with me. I need sleep. Am I drunk. Did I go to work drunk. I don't think so. No i'm good. almost time for bed. I only miss the bed a few times before I land on it. Oh god I hope no one comes by. Please god, please don't let me spread this. No one cares about me. I need to call, tell I was infected with whatever that girl had. But Im not. I'm fine. oh wait. No I'm not. My fingers missing. Hee. always wondered what it'd be like to live without a finger. Whoa, she bit off the entire upper half of my ring finger. Guess I should bandage it. Wait, no. I'm good, just a little cut. I'll get some peroxide on it, yeah. It stings a bit, but the peroxide bubbles away all the infection. I hear the screaming of my tissue's as they're eaten away by the peroxide. They're stupid. Muscle tissue can't even make sounds. Maybe they should figure that out. Time for bed. It feels good to finally sink into sleep, away from the migraine, away from the missing finger.
I wake up sweating the clock says 11: 83. Wait that's not right. There's only 60 minutes in an hour. Then I'm hit by it. A wave of cold takes away my breath. Do I have chills? Maybe it's the fever. No, I'm good. But I'm so weak. Everything feels bad. I hurt. More sleep. I lay there for minutes, hours, days, years maybe. Who cares? I can't sleep. Oh my god, what is this!? I'm so cold. Oh crap, I'm SICK! The baby. I'm not cold. I'm burning. I'm going to die. It's so hard to think. I wonder what dead people think about? Do they get hungry? Hee. Maybe I'm dead. Who cares? I can only feel the cold. Or the heat? Maybe I have a fever? Of course I have a fever. I have what the girl had and now I'm going to die and turn into a thing. a dead person that isn't dead! What? It's so hard to think. I'm going to die. But it feels good. I think I'm...gonna...die? I close my eyes and sink into something more than sleep.