Nick picked up the small bottle of ibuprofen. "I might need these" he murmured to himself.
And sure enough, he was right. Within the next ten minutes they had a horde and two special infected, a Smoker, which snared Nick for what felt like eternity until Ellis was able to come over and free him, only to be pinned by a Hunter which ripped him to shreds.
He took the pills as they shambled to the safe room, all feeling worse for wear, Nick definitely looking the worst.
"I'm gonna get some rest" he said, rubbing his temple, dehydration was causing a headache, which throbbed every few seconds. Hopefully the ibuprofen would help dull that too.
Rochelle nodded. "Rest up Nick" she said, giving him a sympathetic look.
He nodded and walked into one of the bedrooms leading off from the main room and sat on the lumpy mattress. It freaked him out to know so many people had lay on this mattress, and probably done other things, he shuddered at the thought. He pushed it from his mind and took his jacket and shirt off, throwing them at the end of the bed, not particularly caring where they landed. He toed his shoes off and lay down.
He felt restless, adrenaline still rushing through his body, but his mind, hell, even his eyes felt exhausted, heavy. He yawned and tried once again to get comfortable to no avail.
After tossing and turning for the better part of an hours, he finally drifted off to sleep. Then he realised that he wasn't actually asleep, he just felt like he was. The pain in his body was gone, but he felt strange sensation. He felt light and floaty. He hadn't felt like this since his late teens and early twenties when he had taken drugs.
Maybe it was just lack of sleep and too much adrenaline.
Then he started 'going mad'. Instead of sheep, he started counting Hunters that were jumping over a little fence in a field. Hell, they were jumping so high that they jumped over the moon!
He chuckled to himself as he counted. "-twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three-" he yawned, loosing count. "Goddamn" he groaned. He couldn't be bothered starting again, but his mind wanted to.
For the next three hours he counted jumping Hunters, every now and again two or three would jump at once, causing him to lose count and start again.
He groaned as the dull pain entered his body again. His stomach, which had been torn up by the very things he was counting, was starting to ache again, and his head felt like it was splitting. He let out a cry at the throb that wracked his brain. "God fuckin' dammit!" he groaned.
Rochelle, who must have heard him, rushed in, sleepy eyed. "Are you okay?"
"Oh god, I feel like shit Ro. I think I am gonna die."
She frowned. "Nick-"
"I feel like I have been torn apart. Shit Ro" he groaned.
She felt his forehead. "Holy shi-!"
But before she could finish he had thrown up over the side of the bed.
She frowned. "What the hell did you take?"
"Just ibuprofen." He beckoned to the jacket lazily, all his strength gone.
She grabbed the almost empty container and opened it. "These don't look like ibuprofen…"
"What?"
"You probably picked up someone's drugs that were in this."
"That would explain the jumping Hunters."
"I don't think I even want to know."
He told her anyway.
"Jesus Christ Nick. Three hours?"
"Yep."
She shook her head. "I will stay here til you fall asleep."
"I'm okay now."
"You counted imaginary jumping Hunters for three hours. You are not okay."
"Fine. Whatever."
After another hour of feeling like his head was being smacked by hammer, he finally fell asleep.
Ro sighed and walked back to her bed, glad that she too could now fall asleep. She threw the pills in the bin and lay down in her bed, sleep finding her quicker than it found Nick.