Chapter 11
Billy awoke. His eyes were shut, and he couldn't open them. He assumed that they were taped shut, or something similar to that. He tried to remove it with his hands, but they were strapped down, too. He seemed to be in some sort of chair, with a strap on each leg, and arm, and one around his waist. He couldn't move, because of them.
He felt a heat, where his wound was. He didn't know what that was, either. The pain had subsided, and it didn't feel like it was even there, anymore. He wished that he could see what was going on, and try to make sense of things. Sadly, all he could do was wait.
Eventually, he heard a door open and close. The area around the wound had started to sweat immensely, and Billy started worrying about why that was. All of a sudden, two gloved hands were put on Billy's eyelids, and the tape was removed, causing a small grunt from the ex-marine.
Squinting, Billy's eyes finally adjusted to the bright, white room. He was in some sort of lab, and was strapped to a revolving, barber-shop-like chair. Pointing at the wound on his chest, that the Hunter had made, was a sort of light. Good, he thought. Glad it's not festering, or something...
The man that had injected him with the second needle was the one who had removed the tape, and another spectator was also in the room. Billy did not recognize him. the man that had removed the tape inspected the wound. He pulled out yet another needle, and removed a blood sample from the area, as Coen grimaced.
The man turned to write something down on his clipboard. Billy managed to catch a glimpse of the man's name tag, which read "Gathers".
"Gathers, eh?" Billy muttered. His voice sounded cracked, and achy. "Where am I, Mr. Gathers? And what kind of guy keeps pets like that around his... secret laboratory?" He motioned to his wound.
Gathers ignored him, and kept writing. Billy wrinkled up his nose in aggravated bewilderment.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, dip weed!" He harshly choked out. Gathers looked up, briefly.
"Do you mind shutting your face? I'm trying to work," he spat.
"Do you mind telling me what in blue blazes is going on, here? I'm trying to live my life!" Billy retorted. They both glared for a moment, until Gathers set his clipboard down on the desk behind him, and stood, towering over Billy, who helplessly tried to sit up in his chair.
"Do you want answers? Let me fill you in. It would be rude of me to let you into my office, totally in the dark, and curious." He calmly stated. The second observer, whose tag read "Robbel", shot a dangerous look at Gathers. Nevertheless, he carried on. "Have you noticed how you have been able to take extremely high amounts of T Virus, our beloved mistake, into your blood steam, and survive, maintaining conciseness, and sanity? We're hopeful that we might be able-"
"Gathers!" Robbel interrupted. "He said not to breath a word." He gave a look that could kill to his partner.
Gathers sighed. "You're right. I shouldn't have said... Shut up, Coen. You have no choice in the matter." He picked up his clipboard again, and continued writing.
Silently, Billy watched them run multiple tests on the wound. He noticed that there seemed to be no contaminations at all, around the skin, even though he had been directly hit by a claw-full of virus. What they were saying was true; he really did have some sort of immunity to it.
Eventually, they finished. Gathers and Robbel packed up their tools, and test tubes, and left through a special door, which had been apparently opened from the other side. Watching intently, Billy waited for one of them to come back, and to undo his straps. It was a comfortable chair, but he didn't want to be contained, the whole time he was there.
He was about to yell, and to beg for them to let him out of the seat, when Gathers returned with another tray of food; this time, macaroni and cheese. He set it on a counter, next to the chair, and turned, to go towards the door.
"Thanks. Now, just let me use my stretchy tongue, and I'll be alright," He called after the professor. Before leaving, Gathers made a little two-year-old "Nyeah nyeah nyeah" face, before exiting the room.
As the door sealed, Billy's arms were let out of their straps, mechanically. His legs were still contained, but he was able to reach over and grab the food. He ate rampantly, hardly tasting it at all.
Finally, he finished eating, and sat back. He checked the cut, wondering what sorts of chemicals they were putting into it, and taking out of it. It seemed like a normal slice. Nobody would have guessed it was caused by a monstrous, viral beast...
Okay, it's a slow part, I know, but I'll lead up to something good, trust me. :-) Thanks for you guys' reading this, and remember that I love comments! Hehe. :-P