His head ached. It was that dull and persistent kind of throb that stayed around for a long time, like a migraine. It was a struggle for him to lift his heavy eye lids, but as he managed to force them to open and focus his eyes, he wasn't surprised to see that he was in the infirmary. He was surprised, however, by the fact that he was surrounded by a plastic isolation curtain and quite a few doctors along with Dr. Weir, and they were all dressed in red hazmat suits.
Carson tried to use his voice, but his throat was parched, dry, and turned his words into a faint whisper that not even he could hear. Dr. Weir was nearby and placed a gloved hand comfortingly on his arm.
"You probably shouldn't try to talk yet," she urged him quietly. "Your trachea is pretty badly bruised."
She peered down through the visor of her hazmat suit at him as he tried to fathom what was going on. He wasn't really sure why he felt so stiff nor why it hurt so much to breathe. Trying to remember what had happened only made his head hurt worse.
"What happened?" he managed to croak finally.
Dr. Weir's brow furrowed. "We were hoping you could tell us. Can you remember any of it?"
Carson shook his head, confused and frustrated that he couldn't seem to recall anything beyond the moment he stepped through the Stargate. The movement managed to cause a wave of nausea that he clenched his eyes shut against.
"Carson, you went with Colonel Sheppard's team on a rescue mission." She tried to explain slowly. "You were attacked and almost strangled while you were there."
All at once, the memories of their trek through the mud and the maddened villagers that had chased them flooded back into his mind. Even though the memories following that moment were hazy, he remembered seeing the young woman that was standing over him with her hands on his neck, strangling him with her impossibly powerful grip. The reason for the hazmat suits suddenly clicked into place.
"I've been infected?" he gasped in horror as he struggled to sit up. "What about the rest of Colonel Sheppard's team? Are they alright?"
She gently pushed him back against the bed. "Yes, they're fine. The initial round of blood work on them isn't showing any signs of infection. Dr. Biro is already preparing to do another round of testing just to make sure."
Carson visibly relaxed a bit. He cautiously brought his hands up from his sides to his face to see what horrible transformation had been done to them, but sighed in relief as he inspected them carefully and found nothing overly out of the ordinary. His hands weren't dripping with slime, but were covered in perspiration. In fact, his entire body was covered with sweat, but other than experiencing some sudden feverish chills, he didn't feel very ill; it was certainly not as severe as what the villagers on the swamp planet had appeared to experience.
Carson willfully pulled himself into a more professional state of mind, despite his fever and rising panic. "It's possible that human physiology on Earth is different enough that this virus doesn't affect us the same way."
"Dr. Biro seems to think that may very well be the case," Dr. Weir affirmed. "However, the virus could also be just in its earliest stages of infection. Dr. Biro started you on a course of strong antibiotics already just in case, but we don't really know what kind of natural immunities you may have to it."
He figured that it was likely the antibiotics that had been making him feel queasy. There was no point in getting upset at what he couldn't change, so Carson tried to just lie back, take a deep breath, and relax. He was getting tired again, too. As horrible as he was feeling at the moment, he remarked to himself that at least it was a good sign that, considering the aches and pains and fever, at least his body was reacting to the infection and trying to eliminate it. With some luck, the antibiotics would take care of the virus and he'd be able to safely wait it out, like trying to get over a bout of the flu.
"I have good news, Dr. Weir," Dr. Biro said as she appeared from around a corner, probably from one of the laboratory sections of the infirmary where she had been doing her testing. She wasn't wearing a hazmat suit as she began to disassemble the isolation curtain separating Carson from the rest of the infirmary. "All our test samples indicate that there's no possibility of the virus being airborne, which means you and everyone else who hasn't been in physical contact with Colonel Sheppard's team are free to return to duty."
Without hesitation, Dr. Weir removed the protective helmet of her hazmat suit and gave Carson a warm, reassuring smile. Her attention was suddenly drawn away from him, though, as Dr. McKay's irate voice could be heard heatedly arguing with the poor orderly that had been assigned to care for Colonel Sheppard's team after they had been transported into isolation rooms. Obviously, he'd just been told himself that the virus wasn't airborne.
"I understand that you were just doing your duty, now let me do mine by letting me get back to work. Get out of my way!" he growled irritably as he shoved his way past her and walked headlong through the hallways of the isolation ward where he found Dr. Wier and decided to make his complaints known. "Only God knows why Carson would choose to employ nurses with such horrible bedside-manners. This has been the absolute worst twenty-four hours of my… Carson?" He paused, stammering curiously. "You look… horrible."
Carson hadn't thought it was possible to look that much worse than he felt. He was filthy, his clothing still covered with mud from the ordeal, but he hadn't realized how completely drenched with sweat he was. His clothing was soaked, even now after a full day had passed, and his hair was disheveled and stuck out precariously against his skull in clumps. Such profuse sweating was uncommon, even for feverish patients, so it did have him a bit worried.
"I'll be fine, Rodney," Carson lied, crossing his arms over his chest in feigned indignation and confidence. He'd never admit it, but he did think that the expressed sentiment for his well-being was touching and also disturbing at the same time.
A terse moment passed with not a word spoken before Dr. McKay finally broke the silence. "I... uh… I'm going to go back to my lab. There might be a reference to this virus in the Ancient database."
Before Rodney could escape, Elizabeth yanked him back away from the door. "Rodney, you know perfectly well that everyone that may have been in contact with this virus needs to wait for another battery of tests, just to be sure. You don't have to go back into the isolation room, but you do have to stay here in the infirmary."
He stood reluctantly for a moment, then turned around and sat on the bed next to Carson's, letting out a heavy sigh. Teyla and Ronon, whose appearances were followed closely by Colonel Sheppard, hesitantly entered the isolation room a moment later. Ronon's face was as implacable as it had ever been, but concern for Carson's welfare was etched on Teyla's thoughtful face as she saw his pale and weakened condition for herself.
"You are feeling better, I hope?" Teyla asked cautiously.
"Oh, aye," Carson replied tiredly with a forced smile. "I'm fine."
Colonel Sheppard stopped at Dr. Weir's side and spoke softly. "Are you sure that there's no possibility that he might, you know, go a little crazy on us?"
"There are two armed guards at each entrance to the infirmary, just in case," she reassured him quietly.
Carson was glad to have friends that cared about him enough to come and see him in the infirmary, but he wasn't so sure that he liked the thought that guards might be necessary because of his condition. Whatever this bug was that had infected him, he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere before he was sure it was gone. But in his slight stupor induced by fever, fatigue, and medication, he couldn't help but wonder if it was really possible that he might succumb to the same impulses and symptoms exhibited by the poor villagers of that world they had run from. Denial was certainly a powerful weapon against such fears, and it was a weapon that Carson was more than happy to embrace as his conscious mind slipped away into a dream-wracked sleep.
-----
It lurked silently in the depths of the forest before its prey, unseen. The foolish human had only to look in its direction and its presence would have been noticed, but the creature continued to simply sit at the shallow shore of the gushing waters near the crackling fire, oblivious to his peril. He neither moved away nor did he look back at the trees when other humans began stirring around him. This creature was the perfect target.
It slunk closer, slowly, one tiny delicate movement after another, eyes unfocused on its target lest it give away its intentions. The thrill of the hunt along with a rush of adrenaline surged through its body, making it that much more difficult to keep still enough for its approach to not be noticed.
Muscles clenched in anticipation. Its slow, steady breathing became slightly more ragged. The fine hairs on the back of its neck bristled with the tension building underneath. The human stood, so it braced itself, absolutely still and remaining effectively hidden between the dark trees.
The other humans simply walked away back to their dwellings, leaving the intended prey alone and indifferent to his fate as he stepped closer to the rocky shore and picked up a stone. The moment was near, but it remained patient. It watched intently as the human tossed the stone into the water and bent down to pick up another.
Now was the moment! In a blur of motion, it bounded from its hiding place through the dense thicket of trees separating it from its prey. The creature had only barely had enough time to lift his head before his neck was in the powerful grip of the hunter. Its breath caught in its throat as it watched the life slowly drain from the human's face. Wave after wave of pleasure and satisfaction passed through its mind and body as the human's strength faded before its eyes. In a few moments, his arms hung limply at his sides, blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and his features were pale and discolored.
Startled, it dropped its prize as it heard the shouts of the other humans nearby and realized with some annoyance that the attack must have been noticed. At least the human it had chosen wasn't too heavy to be able to carry off. Its primary agenda complete, it flung its captured prey onto its shoulders and leapt into the safety of darkness.
-----
Carson woke with a start. The lights of the infirmary were subdued, and Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney had all left him to get some much-needed sleep some time ago. He wiped his sleeve across his face, and it came back even more drenched in his sweat. Strangely, though, he did feel a lot better than he had a few hours ago when he had first woken up. His throat wasn't quite as hoarse and sore as it had been before, and even the nausea from the antibiotics had mostly gone.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed and noted with some discomfort that his muscles were still stiff and aching. He feebly attempted to swing his legs around the side of the bed in an effort to get up and walk over to the infirmary's lavatory, but his legs were weak and couldn't hold his weight. His body slid uncontrollably to the floor.
Trying to right himself, he grabbed at the edge of the bed. As he carefully repositioned his hands in an attempt to try and haul himself up once more, he wondered why the edge seemed so slippery. He wiped his hands against his shirt and tried again, leaving behind a few slimy streaks of yellow-green mucus that went unnoticed.
Finally managing to climb back onto the bed, he collapsed against it, exhausted. He mused with a small smile that at least he didn't have to go too badly, or he obviously wouldn't have made it with enough time to spare. Carson once more drifted off into sleep.