NOTE: This will be another story about Chase and Thirteen. If you don't know, they are my favourite two characters and I find them adorable together. This probably won't be romance because I don't write – or even like – romance stories.
NOTE #2: I don't own House, honestly. I hate having to put this message in here to prevent dumb people from complaining about say something that is obvious.
NOTE #3: I like notes. Anyway. Enjoy! (bloodshed, violence, the usual). I love everything supernatural and science fiction... Except Angels. xD OHHH. One more thing. I read a review on my other fiction, Life or Death. I MIGHT do a Sequel or an Alternative Ending.:]
RED MONDAY
Chapter 1
The Fever
Thirteen was on clinic duty. Technically, House was on clinic duty, but she was doing it for him because he would rather sit in his office and toss his oversized tennis ball at the ceiling. For once, though, she didn't mind her boss's laziness. She was bored and just wanted something to do, even if it was diagnosing colds and drying bloody noses. They hadn't had a case in days.
It was Monday, though. Mondays were always the busiest days. A case would definitely come in sooner or later.
This she thought as she walked through the doors of the exam room and looked her patient up and down.
He was tall, muscular, but otherwise thin, and his brown hair had a military cut close to his head. His brown eyes seemed sharp and nervous, and he kept glancing wildly around the room as though waiting for someone to attack. When she walked in he flinched, his hands jerking up. She pretended not to notice as she put her clipboard down.
"Mr. Reynolds," she checked to make sure the patient here was the one in the file. He nodded shortly.
She studied him closely.
Puffy eyes, red, runny nose judging by the crust under it, painful breathing judging by the way he seemed to guard his chest as he breathed... He was shaking hard, and she wondered if that was a fever, or if he was just nervous. On his hand she spotted a piece of dirty, red gauze and she wondered what had happened.
She decided to skip the "what's wrong" and go to the "what do you feel" part of the questioning.
"How are you feeling? I mean, do you have any pain anywhere, nausea?" She began, her gaze flicking every so often to his hand.
"I'm very cold, my entire body hurts. I've thrown up over a dozen times in the past few days even though I haven't eaten anything. It's mostly blood and mucous. I'm seeing everything red, my nose is stuffy, and I can't stop sweating," he spoke slowly and his voice sounded slurred so she could barely understand him. As he spoke, his eyes seemed to grow more bloodshot.
"Mr. Reynolds, what happened to your hand?" She felt a small knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomache. It sounded like he had some kind of infection, and his symptoms were advancing strongly.
"I got bit by a rat," he responded curiously.
Oh great, she thought. Let me guess that the fool didn't go see a doctor to get the bite disinfected and check it out. Everyone knew that rats, when they carried a disease, usually carried the worst diseases. Rats started the spread of the black death... Or at least, their flees did.
"Did you get it checked?" She moved forward to look at the hand and he pulled it out of reach.
"No. I put some alcohol on it and bandaged it."
She narrowed her eyes. He was clearly going to be difficult.
"Rat bites can carry all kinds of infections and diseases and even plagues. When were you bitten, and have you checked it out lately?" She needed to look at the wound. She scowled as he hid his hand behind his back.
"Last week. I didn't get it checked because I cleaned it."
"But it's still bleeding?" She asked.
"Yep." Just a yep. Did this man not have a care in the world for the serious diseases he could get from that rat bite? He was already having symptoms.
"Mr. Reynolds, I need to check the wound. It's possible you got an infection either from the rat, or from something that got in to it. The sooner I can take a look, the quicker we can make you better, alright?" She hardened her gaze and stared at him, knowing at some point that he had to let her look.
Finally he let out a defeated sigh and stretched his hand out.
She stepped closer and stopped, staring at the darkened, dead skin around the bandage. The skin was black and hung loosely, though his sleeve was up to his wrist so she couldn't see his arm.
"Mr. Reynolds, can you roll up your sleeve for me?" She watched him stiffen, but then relax and he rolled up the sleeve with his left hand. She had to stifle a gasp at what she saw.
The skin was dead just past his elbow, and she could see his veins popping out further up his arm, dark, purple, and black. His arm was dying. Whatever he had, it was eating away at his flesh and nerves, all coming from his rat bite.
She glanced outside the room to the nurse's walking around outside. She caught the eye of one of them, and she nodded her head in a "come here" gesture. The nurse nodded back and went off to get some scrubs.
Thirteen put on plastic medical gloves and then a facial mask in case whatever he had was infectious. She walked back and lay her fingers lightly on the bandage. His hand was shaking.
"Hold still, please," her voice was muffled by the mask, but he nodded and the trembling slowly went away.
She peeled away the bandage, noting that there was something black and purple covering it, and less blood. As soon as she pulled it away, black and purple fluid was streaming from his hand, dripping to the floor. She stared in amazement at the rotted flesh, peeling away around the wound.
What the hell is that? She thought, and despite the fact that she had seen all kinds of disgusting things over the years, she felt her gag reflex coming up.
Somehow, the man managed to flex his wrist.
She looked up, and stared in to his eyes. They were completely red, except for the pupil and the brownish yellow of his eye colour, but there was something dead in them. His head was lolling on his shoulders and drool was dripping from his mouth.
"Mr. Reynolds?" She whispered, then saw the veins in his throat, all discoloured black and purple.
His eyes rotated with sickening slowness and fixed on her. His tongue dropped from his mouth. His skin was gray and he was beginning to weave and shake. A low, animal like groan erupted from his throat.
"No," he said, slurred and weak.
He moved with unbelievable speed, his hands on her arms, and he shoved her so hard that she felt herself being thrown backwards, her feet off the ground, and her backed slammed a table, which shifted, and she fell over it. Tools and needles showered her as the cart tipped over, and she curled in to herself to avoid them. They just kept on falling.
Finally, the last one clattered to the floor, and she looked up, realizing the cart was lying on top of her. She pushed it away.
She almost screamed, but managed to control herself as she scrambled backwards over the fallen objects, staring up at the black and gray creature drooling reddened saliva. Its eyes were dripping red, and she realized after a moment that this was Mr. Reynolds. Was.
The thing stepped towards her, and the door was thrown open behind it. A male nurse came charging in the room, not seeing as the discolouration of the man because its back was turned, and he threw himself on to it, wrapping his arm around its neck. Thirteen watched in horror as the creature twisted its head and bit down on the nurse's arm, who screamed and released it.
The creature turned and bit down on the nurse's neck. The flooding red flow from the nurse's throat quickly turned back, and his scream changed to a groan. Thirteen stood and charged past them, retreating in to the hall. As a last second thought, she slammed the door behind her.
Out in the hall, nurse's turned to stare at her in shock. She ripped the gloves off and the mask, and ran around the corner and straight in to Chase.
"Thirteen, what-" she didn't give him time to finish.
"Chase... Zombies..." She didn't know why she said it. It sounded so foreign on her lips. But there was only one word to describe it. And that was it.