Scratch

"Let me get this straight. You two decided to take my car, and let me just reiterate, my car! Without my permission, all because you wanted to go downtown for wraps?!"

"…yes?" Rigby gave a sheepish smile.

"The golf cart was out of gas, Benson. It was just a quick…little…" Mordecai stopped himself. Their excuses would not make the situation any better. Their boss was already starting to glow red. "But hey, at least the car is okay. Not a scratch on it!"

Benson seemed to cool off a little at that fact, but he was still fuming. "Great, my car is functional. Fantastic. Now, explain how can I drive it when you lost my keys?!"

"Well, actually we didn't lose it. A bat just took it," Rigby said.

"Well then, if you didn't lose it, then you will get in back to me in an hour without problems." A strained smile formed across his face. "And if the keys aren't in my hands by then, you're fired!" With those final words, he pivoted around and stormed back inside the house.

The two slackers stood in place for a moment, processing what they had heard. Rigby groaned, digging his foot into the ground. There was no way they would be able to find those keys in time. The bat had flown off the moment it snatched them from his hands. He voiced his complaints aloud.

Mordecai looked less than impressed. "Dude. If you just held onto the keys instead of swinging them around, we would not have to look for them."

"How was I supposed to know a bat would swoop and grab them?"

"Urgh, it doesn't matter. Let's just look around. That bat wouldn't have gotten far anyway…"

The words rang true as within a minute they found the criminal hanging upside down on the gable vent of the roof. Its feet clung tightly to the wooden slits as it tried to gnaw down on the keys. It would not be too difficult to reach the bat. There was a ladder laying haphazardly against the left side of the house.

"Okay, there it is. Now, go get it," Mordecai said. He leaned against Benson's car.

"Why me?" Rigby eyed the roof cautiously. There was no way he would get up there.

"You were the one who lost the keys, you get them."

"No way, dude. You know I'm scared of heights."

"What? Since when?"

"Since now. Look, I'm beginning to feel dizzy just thinking it." He swayed dramatically, holding his head with a faked grimace.

"Urgh. Fine, whatever."

Rigby had anticipated a bit more resistance, but it had been a long day. It might have been easier for Mordecai to get the job done now than to push it off. Regardless, as Mordecai ascended, Rigby held onto the ladder. Not that he would ever say it out loud, but he doubted that his grip made much of a difference in keeping the ladder stable.

At that moment, something glimmered in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see an open dumpster with flies buzzing in and out. Something shiny was sticking out of one of the garbage bags. It probably was trash, but his curiosity guided his feet towards it. Sometimes, there were some treasures in there. Once he found a coupon for Cheezers that was still usable. Today, however, it ended up being a wrapper much to his disappointment.

"Rigby! Get back here!"

Mordecai's panicked shout grabbed Rigby's attention. He left the ladder. It wobbled on the spot, swinging wildly with the blue jay desperately grabbing on. Rigby raced back and pushed the ladder back onto the wall. Mordecai slammed against the wall with a loud cry.

All the commotion roused the bat's attention. It glared at the duo, hissed then took to the skies. It dived deep into the park.

"Aw, Rigby! Why did you move?!"

"I saw something in the dumpst-"

"Not again! Oh, forget it. You are getting the keys yourself," Mordecai said. He slid down the ladder and marched back inside the house without a single glance back at his friend.

"Wait, wait! I can't do this by myself. It's gonna get dark soon. And Benson-"

"You lost the keys. You get them." There was a tone of finality to his statement. Rigby's ears lowered in annoyance. He was on his own on this one.

"Urgh, fine. But you owe me one."

"No, I don't."

It was a late afternoon. The sun was already starting to touch the horizon. He just had to find that bat before it completely set. Rigby groaned loudly. This was a waste of time. It would be easier to just get a new set of keys. Before that plan could properly form, he remembered that the cart was still out of gas. He was not leaving this park anytime soon.

He dragged himself across the lawn, eyes to the skies searching for the elusive bat. It was tricky to rely on sight when the light was fading fast. The shade of the trees moved deceptively and whenever he thought he found the flying rat, he ended up chasing shadows.

However, his ears did not lie. After a while of aimless wandering, there was a faint sound of jingling keys. Silently, Rigby followed the sound, taking care not to step on dried leaves and twigs. The sound was emanating from a small burrow that was held together by tree roots. The hole was too small for him to squeeze in. He paused and perked his ears up.

There it was. There was the jingle of keys and a sloshy sound. Rigby cringed at the wet noise. His hand lingered at the entrance. He needed to get those keys. He took a deep breath and plunged his hand into the depths. His fingers brushed against something leathery. The bat screeched at the intruder, but Rigby refused to remove his hand.

Something dribbled onto this wrist and he groaned in disgust. At last, his fingers curled around the wet ring of keys. He yanked it, but there was some resistance.

"Come on, you stupid bat. Just give it to me."

The bat hissed.

There was a sudden sharp pain from his forearm. Rigby let out a startled cry. He shook his arm desperately, still clinging on to the keys. The pain persisted, and the wet sensation began to spread from his wrists upwards. He pressed his legs against the roots of the tree and tried to pull himself and the keys out of the hole. The bat was clawing the sides of the burrow to stay inside.

The raw strength of a panicked raccoon won out against a frantic bat and both were sent flying. Rigby rolled into a tree and the back of his head thumped against the tough bark. His ears began ringing and pain reverberated throughout his skull. A fuzzy sensation settled into his head.

But the pain on his forearm was far worse. The bat had implanted its fangs deep into his skin. It was no longer holding to the keys, but it was refusing to let go of Rigby's arm. He shook his head, trying to shake the fuzziness away. He swung his arm above himself and slammed it into the tree. The bat screeched, but its teeth were still firmly stuck in his arm. He slammed his arm into the tree again and again.

Finally, the bat was losing its strength and its jaw widened enough that as Rigby lowered his arm for another strike, it simply dropped to the ground. It twitched on the ground, foam building up in its mouth before it shuddered and went still.

Rigby crawled away from the bat. His arm tingled. He looked at his arm. His fur did a fine job at covering up the bite, but he could still see two jagged spots on his skin. Worst of all, the bat had salivated all over his arm and now his entire forearm was drenched.

On the bright side, he still had the keys. He swung them in the air with his good arm in victory. As he stood up, he immediately leaned against the tree to quell the sudden dizzy spell. The pain in his head had become manageable. His bite however was beginning to burn. He needed to wash the wound quickly.

He stumbled all the way back to the house. Mordecai was waiting in the kitchen, chewing on a pizza slice. He looked surprised to see the keys.

"Oh dude, you actually got them. I was going to get Benson a pizza as a truce, but it looks like it worked out. What happened with your arm? Why are you holding it out like that?"

"Stupid bat bit me as I grabbed the keys. I am never doing this again. Next time, you are putting your hands into those holes."

"Why would you do that? Why didn't poke a stick in there, first?"

Rigby groaned and tossed the keys into his friend's face. "I don't care, just give them to Benson for me, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Help yourself to some pizza." Mordecai left the room, spinning the keys around his finger.

Rigby stuck his arm out over the sink and ran water under it. He used a small amount of soap to remove the wretched stench of the bat saliva. He dried it off and reached over to a cabinet for some bandages. His bite was still burning. He wrapped gauze around his arm, carelessly and tossed the extra on the floor.

He grabbed a slice as Mordecai returned.

"Good timing, dude. Benson was just going to leave."

"See, everything worked out."

They ate contently before moving to the living room to play some games as they usually did in the evening. The tingling sensation never left.


It had been ten days since the car keys incident. Rigby had removed his bandages two days prior. The pain and burning sensation had long since disappeared. The only thing that remained was the tingling feeling that ran up his arm.

He complained about it, but after using it as an excuse not to do manual labour one too many times, Benson told him to shut it or face a lot more grueling work. His complaints were only heard by Mordecai who was also starting to get annoyed.

Regardless, life continued as normal during that week. He and Mordecai went around the park, raking up leaves and picking up roadkill. He had even found the bat that bit him and found great pleasure in tossing it in the bag.

However, he woke up one morning to terrible fatigue. It felt as though the sun was brighter than usual, the rays impaling his eyes. He covered his head with his variety of dirty laundry to block the light and ease the pain. Despite the fatigue, however, he did not feel tired enough to fall back to sleep. His mind was wide awake, but his body refused to move.

Rigby thought back to last night to figure out the reason for his morning sluggishness. He had gone out with Eileen the night before to the movies. It was not anything special or exhausting, so he could not understand why he felt physically drained.

It took Mordecai several attempts to get him out of the trampoline.

"Come on, dude! The morning meeting is in five minutes."

"I'm up, I'm up."

Rigby dragged himself to the bathroom. He turned the tap and watched the water apprehensively. There was nothing wrong with it, but he hesitated to splash it onto his face. Something about it twisted knots in his stomach. He pushed through his trepidation. The water did nothing to wake his body up.

He trudged down the steps to the morning meeting.

It was going to be a simple day by their standards. All they had to do was mow the lawn and trim some hedges by the entrance. It would be tedious work on the lawn, but they hardly ever finished that job anyway.

Rigby sat on the head of the lawnmower with a cup of coffee. It was not doing much for his exhaustion. Not that it mattered at the moment as Mordecai and himself were taking a break under a tree.

"So, what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't heard you complain about a single thing today. Also, you aren't drinking anything."

"What are you talking about? I'm-" He glanced down at his coffee cup. It was empty. "Oh. Do me a solid and refill it for me." Mordecai looked as though he wanted to refuse, but after a moment, decided to get up and avoid a pointless argument. The house was not far off anyway.

Rigby closed his eyes for a moment to satisfy his fatigue. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes began to itch. He rubbed them, but the irritation only grew. Once he opened his eyes, the itchiness was gone. But when he closed them once more, the itchiness returned with full force. He frowned and repetitively shut and open his eyes and rubbed them in a futile attempt to find a sweet spot.

He felt an itch on his arm. He scratched at it without much thought.

Then, he felt it burn. His arm flinched away from his clawing fingers.

He spared a glance at the bite wound. He had accidentally scraped the scabs. It was turning bright red, but his dark fur covered the worst of it. The itchy sensation did not disappear.

"What, is your arm hurting again?"

Mordecai's voice made Rugby jump. He was holding a cup of coffee.

"No…it's just itchy."

"I think that means it's healing, just don't touch it." Mordecai shoved the coffee into his arms. "I think we better get started again. I just saw Benson watching us through the window."

Rigby leaned against the tree and sipped the coffee. "Can you start for us? I'll join you when I finish."

Mordecai narrowed his eyes. "You better." He turned the mower on and ran through the lawn with it.

The day had a lazy feel to it. It did not help that Rigby felt like he sleepwalked through the day. He could hardly remember what he did in the afternoon and he was honestly surprised to see the sun setting so soon.

Mordecai suggested that he went to bed early to shake off the sleepiness by tomorrow. Rigby agreed, much to both their disappointment. It looked as though Dig Champs was going to have to wait until tomorrow. However, even as he rested his head against the fabric of the trampoline, the itchiness would not let him sleep.


Since the morning, the sensation had spread up his arm. He was trying to avoid scratching the wound itself, but the rest of the arm was fair game.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

No matter how hard he scratched, he found no relief. Rigby tried to still his arm for the rest of the night, but his body would not let him sleep without interruption. The itchiness came in waves. For the few minutes where he could tolerate the slight tingle came the infuriating sensation at full force which he could not ignore. The sound of his nail digging deep in his skin repeated all night, echoing in his ears and in his head. It was so loud, he could feel a pressure building up in his skull, pushing against his brain.

Any desire of a full rest before the sun rose was quickly dashed by the ever-growing brightness of his room.

Scratch. Scratch.

Rigby rose up, groaning. His body still felt drained, but his mind was active as ever. The dissonance was dizzying, and it was beginning to take a toll. Careful not to wake up his friend, he stumbled down to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee to try and motivate his body into action. An hour rushed by in a blur. He was in a daze. Sounds were like white noise and his body moved automatically. It felt like he was in a dream-like state, but he could not be dreaming because his arm was still so itchy.

Scratch. Scratch.

A sudden blow to his side shook the haziness from his head. He blinked to find himself sitting on the stairs. The whole park crew was there. It must be the morning meeting but Rigby could not recall how he got here.

The source of the blow was Mordecai's elbow. "Dude stop scratching yourself."

Rigby looked at his arms. His fingers were moving on their own. He willed himself to stop scratching with great effort. He settled his twitching fingers on his knee. His arm was just so itchy.

"Muscle Man and Hight Five Ghost, you guys will be-" Benson looked up from his clipboard and stopped himself in disbelief. The former was dripping from head to toe. From the aroma, it did not seem like water but coffee. Benson rubbed the side of his face. "What happened?" He asked, exasperated.

Muscle Man threw his hands in the air. "Don't ask me, bro. Ask Rigby. I just rigged the soda and he just splashed his coffee all on me."

"What?" Rigby snapped. His tone was not meant to be so sharp, but he was certain that Muscle Man was lying. "When did I do that?"

"This morning. It wasn't cool, bro."

A flame of irritation burned in the pit of his stomach. He would have protested, but Benson interrupted. "You know what? I just decided that I don't care. Just do your jobs for today and do…"

Itchy. Itchy. Itchy.

"Don't forget to….."

White noise.

"Did you even hear me, Rigby?!"

Rigby blinked. His attention snapped back. Benson was glaring at him. "Uh…no?"

But even as Benson opened his mouth to repeat himself or perhaps he was scolding him, Rigby did not know, his mind went blank. His head nodded automatically once the white noise stopped. Everything moved at once. There was too much happening. His eyes could not track where anyone was going or what they were doing. The sun, worst of all, was so very bright that morning. The pressure in his head grew.

Instinctively, he turned around and walked back inside the house. The lack of noise, light, and movement was reassuring. The pressure was reduced significantly. He let out a sigh. Now, he needed to figure out what he was doing today.

In honesty, he was not sure he would be able to work. He felt very hazy and distant from the world. Still, Benson would not buy those excuses.

Itchy. So itchy.


Mordecai watched as Rigby stumbled inside. He could not help but feel concerned about his friend's odd behaviour. He had woken up and was surprised to see Rigby sitting on the couch, sipping on the coffee with a blank expression. Mordecai had asked why he had gotten up so early, but he received no verbal response, just a grunt. He looked more tired than yesterday, despite having gone to sleep much earlier than usual.

More of concern was with Muscle Man and Rigby. It was an obvious prank setup but given his state of stupor, Rigby would have been an easy target. Muscle Man was looking for a quick laugh but received a face full of coffee when Rigby hissed at him.

That was the reason why alarm bells were ringing in his head. Hissing. Since when did his friend ever hiss? There was little he could do to bring it up as the meeting occurred shortly after. The whole time he had been staring blankly. He managed to rouse him from his stupor by elbowing him, but he quickly regressed back.

Now, Rigby just entered the house with the same blank expression. At first, he thought that Rigby was getting onto the roof quickly to get started with the gutters, but Mordecai would not be surprised to suspect that Rigby was just retreating inside.

He needed to speak to someone who might be able to help him. Firstly, he should probably bring this up to Benson. Once everyone dispersed, Mordecai approached Benson.

"Hey, Benson."

"What do you want?" There was a definite tone of annoyance. He crossed his arms. "I'm not letting you go anywhere until those gutters are cleaned."

"It wasn't about that…uh… Did you notice that Rigby has been…acting off?"

Benson unfolded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Well… yes. I thought it was something between you two."

Mordecai rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. "I dunno. He's just been staring at nothing since yesterday." He also did nothing. Mordecai had to pick up the slack more than usual and perform the bare minimum of both their duties. He suspected that Rigby would probably act the same today. "Do you think he could take the day off today? I think he needs to sleep it off." Admittedly, part of the reason why he suggested it was to make Benson lenient with his responsibilities today.

Benson was not happy about the idea, but there was no bite to his voice when he said, "I don't think so. He has been slacking off more than usual lately and I don't want to encourage that behaviour by giving him a day off. You are just going to have to pick up his slack if you want to get paid by the end of the day."

Mordecai frowned and let a groan of frustration escape his throat. "I don't think he is just slacking off like usual. He looks exhausted."

"He's probably up all night, watching those terrible horror movies you guys rent."

"He went to bed early last night!"

Now, Benson showed an ounce of concern, but it quickly regressed back to his stoic expression. "That is weird. Maybe he should get the day off." The sarcasm was not missed on Mordecai. "Okay, okay. Listen. Let's just see how today goes and if he is still acting weird tomorrow, I'll talk to him, okay?"

Mordecai doubted that Benson talking to Rigby would resolve anything, but he kept his beak shut. He marched inside with a bucket and gloves. Rigby was lying on the couch. His mouth and eyes were wide open. He was drooling into the fabric.

"Aw, sick man. At least drool in your bed." Mordecai said, shaking him.

"Wuh, huh?" Rigby blinked. He looked around as if he were unaware of where he was. "Whoa…what time is it?"

"It's nine-thirty. We have to clean the gutters, remember?"

Rigby blinked. He scratched his arm again. "Uh, right."

There was an awkward silence. Mordecai lifted up the gloves and tossed the bucket to him. Hopefully, this was just temporary fatigue that would pass over tomorrow. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Mordecai doubted that.

They spent the morning on the rooftop clearing out the gutters. It would be more accurate to say that Mordecai was cleaning the gutters as Rigby just sat there, staring blankly. He tried to get him moving but it seemed that the words entered one ear and exited the other.

The thought struck him at twelve when the sun was beating down on him the worst. The day before yesterday, he went out with Eileen, didn't he? Did something happen? Was he in a depressive state? Mordecai cast a glance towards Rigby. He seemed to mimic what he went through when Margret had to leave for college. The memory was still bitter to him, but he had recovered well enough.

If this was the case, then Mordecai was troubled. He was going to have to break his friend out of the miserable state. He was not aware that he and Eileen were that close, but perhaps they were closer than he thought.

There was no way he would get a straight answer from Rigby himself. There was one other person he could check in on.

He did not bother to sneak out from the roof or make excuses since he was certain Rigby was not paying attention either way. He retrieved his phone from his room and dialed Eileen's number. She picked up quickly.

"Oh, hi Mordecai. Did you need something? You never call me."

"Uh…yeah. Hi Eileen. I just wanted to ask, did something happen between you and Rigby two nights ago?"

"W-what? No." She sounded flustered. Mordecai mentally slapped himself. He needed to phrase his questions better. "We just watched a movie. Why do you ask? Is he okay?"

"He's fine…but he's just been looking exhausted lately. I was just wondering if you two fought or something."

"Oh. That is weird. He seemed fine to me."

"Well, thanks anyway, Eileen. I'll see you in the coffee shop later if I can try to bring Rigby in."

Mordecai hung up with a sigh. That, at least, narrowed down the reasons for Rigby's odd behaviour. Though it narrowed it down to a point that Mordecai was unsure how to proceed. He could be ill. If that was the case, then he should just wait it out.

He went out to the roof. Rigby had not moved since he left him.

Scratch. Scratch.

He had been scratching his arm all morning. It must be due to the bite.

Mordecai bent down and placed the back of his hand against Rigby's forehead. The sudden movement stirred Rigby out of his daydreams.

"What are you doing?" He sounded irritated.

"Checking to see if you are running a fever," Mordecai said. It was a little warmer than usual, but it could just be because he was laying out in the sun for hours.

"Well? Am I dying?" Rigby sat up and smacked his hand away.

"With you lying here all day, you might as well be." Mordecai snarked back. He really hoped it was just passing fatigue.


It was another restless night for Rigby.

At least his day of lazing about had given his limbs the rest they needed. It was less of an effort to move them around. He retreated back to his trampoline in the early evening. He should have probably eaten something earlier, but he did not feel the stomach pangs of hunger.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. To his dismay, he was drooling again. He seemed to have a lot of saliva in his mouth than usual. It had built up in his mouth without much notice. He tried to swallow it down, but his throat would push it back up. The only resolve was to let it dribble and wipe it up with tissues. It was disgusting but it was all he could do.

Mordecai's snores filled in the silence of the night. It never bothered him before, but every time he tried to close his eyes, the snores would echo louder inside his own head. Rigby tried to plug up his ears, but the sound was still there.

He sat up and glared at his sleeping friend. It was tempting to wake him up and force him to stay awake all night just like himself, but it would not solve anything, and at the heart of it, it was not Mordecai's fault. The snoring had never bothered him before. The burning irritation at the pit of his stomach needed to be quenched, however. He got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. He turned on the tap and watched the water flow.

The same apprehension from before was back again. It tried to warn him to not touch it. His own logic bit back. It was only water. Why should he be afraid of it?

He cupped the water into his hands and tipped it into his mouth.

At once, his throat constricted. It rushed into his windpipe and his throat burned. Rigby's eyes shot open and he coughed violently into the sink. He couldn't breathe. The water was still in his throat and blocking the air from reaching his lungs.

Spittle flew as he continued to cough. He tried to take deep breaths between each expel, but it only fuelled his coughs. He gripped the sides of the sink and he tried to cough out the water. It was still there.

He was suffocating.

His fingers moved to claw at his throat futilely. Anything to let him breathe.

His stomach twisted and turned. Something hot surged up his chest and out from his mouth. He emptied the contents of his stomach into the sink. With the last coughs, the air was able to finally move through his windpipe. He could breathe.

Rigby stood there, massaging his throat, and taking deep breaths. He was sure he would have died. His gut never lied. There was something wrong with the water. Was it poisoned? His throat was still burning.

He would have died.

Water droplets were all over the counter.

Adrenaline rushed through his body. He jumped back, rushed out of the kitchen, and departed to the cool evening. The door slammed shut behind him and the noise rang in his head painfully. He covered his ears and dashed behind the building towards the dumpster. He hid between the garbage bags and waited until the ringing noise stopped.

Saliva pooled in his mouth.

He could not swallow.

His tongue pushed it past his muzzle. He let it drip.

After a while, he removed his hands from his ears. They perked up, listening for any disturbances. It was a quiet night. It was much quieter here than in his own room. Maybe he would be able to sleep here.

Rigby still could not sleep, however. He had to be awake, so he did not choke on his own saliva. It was the water. It had to be.

He curled up tightly. It was getting cold.

But his arm was still itchy and warm to touch.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Something crawled up his arm. He slapped at it, but he only struck his own arm. He must have missed because the crawling sensation continued. It went up to his shoulder, to his neck, to behind his ear. There were multiple little crawlers creeping across his body. He scratched and struck at the tiny critters. He let out a low growl as he frantically twisted and turned.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

His fingers felt wet. His eyes squinted through the darkness.

Blood?

Did he get one of them?

His left arm felt wet and sticky.

He kicked one of the bags away, letting it fall to the ground.

Bright light stabbed his eyes. He groaned. How was it the morning already? The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. The light was too bright. He could not sleep out here. It was just too much.

Rigby opened one of his eyes slightly. His arm was bleeding. He must have scratched too hard, and yet there was no pain nor relief. His arm was still so itchy and tingly. He resisted the urge to keep scratching and left the dumpster. He needed to bandage up his arm and get back to his trampoline. He needed to sleep.

He rushed back inside the house and into the kitchen. It was still very early in the morning. No one was up yet. Rigby was relieved. He could not stand to speak with anyone right now. They were all annoying and loud. He just needed some peace and quiet.

He did not bother to wash his arms. After all, the water was poisoned.

He grabbed the bandages from the top cabinet. He fumbled with it. A thought passed through his head. Why was his arm bleeding, again? He paused in unwrapping the dressings.

Why was his arm bleeding?

A pressure was building in his head again. It pushed his brain against his skull. He dropped the bandages and clutched his head. A low groan escaped his throat. Saliva dribbled to the floor.

Then, it struck him. He had scratched his arm too hard. That's right. That was why his arm was bleeding.

The pressure subsided. It was still there, but it did not press against his brain as hard as before. He took a deep breath, picked up the bandages and haphazardly wrapped them around his arm. It was not tightly bound around his arm to stop the bleeding, but he could not coordinate his other hand to move efficiently.

Besides, he was tired. The sun was rising higher and higher. The light was getting brighter and brighter. He just wanted to sleep without the light piercing through his eyelids.

Rigby limped up the stairs, opened the door, and jumped into his trampoline. He pulled his laundry over his head to block out the quieting snores and brightening light.

Soon, whoever was snoring would finally wake up and leave him in peace.

Who was making that racket again?


Mordecai woke up to see Rigby was still lying on his trampoline. He was partially buried under all his dirty laundry. There was a stench in the room that was not there before.

Its smell was subtle enough at first, but Mordecai was able to catch a whiff of it. It smelt like the dumpster. He gaged. He washed his face in the bathroom and went back inside to wake up his friend.

There was no doubt that his friend had been to the dumpster then. The stench was emanating from him. There was even some sludge on his tail and leg. Mordecai cringed at the sight, but he imagined that the face might be worse. He was thankful the laundry was covering it up.

Scratch. Scratch.

There was that sound too. Mordecai frowned. Had Rigby still been scratching his bite? At this rate, it would get infected. Perhaps it was already infected. He would have to see a doctor about it. Regardless, it did not look as though Rigby had recovered since yesterday.

The morning meeting would be occurring shortly. He would have to let Benson know.

"Alright, we all have our roles for this afternoon. It's a simple birthday party, so it should not be hard to set up for." Benson's eyes looked up from his clipboard to Mordecai. His eyes darted to the right of him. He frowned at the lack of a certain raccoon.

"Yep, it definitely should not be hard. Where is he?"

"He's still in bed. I think he's sick."

Benson sighed. "I think I will be the judge of that. Anyway, the rest of you get to work. I'll go talk to him."

Mordecai was tasked with getting some of the food and confectionary items from downtown. It would have been a fun and easy role, but on his own, it was made a lot less satisfying. He decided to wait for Benson before he went off.

Benson returned. He had a peculiar look on his face, like a mix of anger and worry. It was an odd expression for anyone, much less Benson, to have.

"What's up?"

"Yeah, you were probably right. He was looking a bit ill. I told him he could have the day off if he went to see the doctors. He did not have to snap at me." Benson gripped the sides of his clipboard more tightly at that last remark.

"Did he snap at you?"

"Yeah, told me to stop talking. I warned him that any more of that back talking nonsense would get him fired." Benson growled, but there was definitely a lot less anger than normal.

Mordecai smiled slightly. Benson would never take back talking from his employees, but considering how Rigby looked worse for wear, he was not going to take it out on him.

"Well, this means…" Benson glanced back at the clipboard. "You are going to have to get the drinks as well."

"That was always going to happen."

"Yeah, I know."

Mordecai stopped by the coffee shop while he gathered the party items. It was lonely and rather boring on his own, but it could not be helped. On the bright side, the party went along smoothly without any hiccups. Benson was very pleased and gave everyone the rest of the day off. The whole park crew went out for a simple buffet.

It was by all accounts, a simple and boring day.

So, he was looking forward to returning back to the house to check up on how his friend was doing. It was to his dismay that Rigby was still lying on the trampoline with no sign indicating that he ever moved.

"Did you even go to the doctors?"

Rigby did not respond.

Scratch. Scratch.

And he was still scratching his bite. There was no way it was not infected by now. The smell was also starting to get more poignant. Rigby needed to take a bath now. Mordecai knew that he did not like to wash and it was often a point of contempt about him.

He sighed and took a deep breath. He threw the laundry off Rigby's face and froze.

It was definitely worse than he thought.

His fingers and left arm were coated in blood. Yellowish pus was starting to form around the bite. The fur around the injury had fallen off, revealing bright red, swollen skin. It was not the only area lacking fur. Rigby had been scratching various parts of his body intensely, and now patches of fur were missing all around his torso and arms.

Worst of all was the bloodshot eyes and frothy mouth. The fur around his mouth was matted and moist from his own saliva.

The moment he had removed the laundry, Rigby hissed and swiped at the air. Mordecai leaned back abruptly to avoid the blood-soaked fingers. He lost his balance and fell on his back.

"Dude! What the H happened to you?!"

Rigby let out a bubbly growl. He coughed before shielding his eyes with his hands. "Its…so bright…"

Mordecai lifted himself up and tried to avoid gagging. This was much worse than he thought. He needed to get his friend to the doctors as soon as possible. Not only was the wound becoming infected, but Rigby's behaviour was very sickly.

"Little…bugs…little bugs.." He groaned, his fingers already starting to claw at his flesh once again.

"Okay, dude. I'm going to call… a doctor, something. Let's just get you cleaned up." Mordecai said, slowly. His hands were shaking as he approached the squirming raccoon. One thing he needed to do was to get him cleaned up, as much as he could do. It would wash off the blood for one thing and also wake him up from whatever stupor he was in.

He hesitated for a moment before he gently grabbed Rigby's torso. The reaction was instantaneous. Rigby began to make animalistic sounds from deep in his throat. He was squirming about and was clawing the air, trying to resist being moved.

Mordecai had to hold him out to avoid being scratched. He rushed over to the bathroom and dropped Rigby into the bathtub. He turned the taps to the maximum. A rush of water splashed down towards Rigby. He knew he hated baths, but he did not expect such an aggressive reaction to the water. The moment the water touched his fur, Rigby let out a hysterical shriek and he clawed at the tub, trying to escape. Mordecai had to push him back in, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws.

"I'm trying to help you! Your bite got infected. You need to clean it!" He insisted.

"It's poisoned! I'm going to die! Get me out! GET ME OUT!" Rigby's voice sounded hoarse.

At the least, in his struggles, the water had managed to wash off most of the dried blood. Even the unexplained stains were mixing in the water. The only thing that had not changed was the bloodshot eyes and matted fur.

Rigby pounced out of the water with a snarl, grappling on to Mordecai's face. He let out a surprised cry and tried to pry off the squirming raccoon. His claws dug into his feathers and Mordecai shook his head desperately.

Adrenaline pumped through his body and in a blind panic, Mordecai punched Rigby hard. It was enough to send the small mammal flying into the opposite wall. He blinked and rubbed his head, massaging the sore spots. Rigby hissed at him and darted out of the room.

Mordecai tried to chase him, but Rigby retreated into their room and he had locked the door. The blue jay slammed his fists into the door. "Let me in, Rigby! You need help!"

"What is going on?!"

Benson and the rest of the park crew were slowly ascending the stairs. They had looks of various confusion and concern.

"I dunno, man! I was trying to get Rigby to wash himself and he went all ballistic. I think he's really sick. He didn't even go to the doctors."

Benson shoved Mordecai aside. "Let me handle this." He cleared his throat. "Oi, Rigby! Its me, Benson, your boss. Open this door right now. You need to see a doctor."

The door shuddered suddenly, as though something heavy was slammed against it. Then, Mordecai heard it.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

"Open this door, right now!"

Skips tapped Mordecai's shoulder and pulled him aside. "What's happened with him?"

"I don't know! He's been acting weird for a few days now. I think it might be because his bite got infected or something."

Skip's raised an eyebrow. "A bite? Did he get bitten?"

"Yeah, like a week ago. I think it was a bat or something."

Skips frowned. "Hm…I don't think I like where this is going."

"Do you know what's going on?" Benson interrupted. He had given up on trying to reach Rigby through the door.

Skips hummed in thought. "Well, if it's what I think it is, we got a serious problem."

"How serious?" Benson pushed.

"It could be rabies."

There was a cold silence. "W-what?" Mordecai could not believe his ears.

Rabies? Why would that be relevant? How could Rigby have rabies? It was unbelievable. Rabies? A chill ran up and down his spine. His friend had rabies. Foaming mouth, bloodshot eyes, constant scratching, and fear of water? It added up. He did not want them to add up. He hoped that Skips was wrong.

But when was Skips ever wrong?

"Oh no, bro." Muscle man voiced the panicked thoughts of the rest of the crew.

Benson had stiffened himself, his eyes wide. "That… okay… rabies…." He took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Great. What do we do about it?" His tone turned serious.

"We are going to need to restrain him and get him to a hospital…"

Muscle Man pumped his fist against his chest. "If it's restraint you want, it's restraint he'll get. Let me get the door."

Everyone stepped out of the way. As Muscle Man reared himself for the charge, Skips leaned into Benson's ear and whispered softly, perhaps to avoid Mordecai's own ears.

He heard it anyway.

"If he is already in the late stages, it will be too late for him."

Mordecai shook his head. There was no way it could be too late for him already. He was only starting to get sick a few days ago. It was too soon. He was certain they would find a way to help him, they always did. The fact that Skips was already calling it the end for his friend made his blood boil. They would find a way to save him. They always did. What was a disease going to do that a cosmic horror hasn't done that? They faced far worse things before, and they always ended up okay.

So, Rigby was going to be okay.

Skips raised his voice. "Try to avoid getting bit."

The way Skips had said it almost made Mordecai laugh. It was something he would expect to hear in a zombie apocalypse scenario. He would certainly have laughed if Rigby were there because he would find it funny too.

But, he was here, just behind the door. He wasn't laughing.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Muscle Man charged forward with enough strength to snap the door from its hinges. The door fell back. There was a startled cry.

There was Rigby on all fours, tail shot straight up. His fur was bristling and his mouth foaming. His arm was still bleeding. Bloodshot eyes scanning over each park member in frenzy. They were so animalistic and so wild, any trace of the former Rigby was either hidden or completely gone.

The thought of that made Mordecai's head spin.

There was a moment of silence and stillness.

Then Muscle Man made the first move. He launched himself forward, arms outstretched. Rigby hissed and rolled out of the way. His smaller size and agility allowed him to shoot forward towards the door.

But the park crew remained where they were, serving as a barrier. Rigby dragged himself to a halt, glaring at them like they were obstacles. The momentary pause, however, gave Muscle Man enough time to grab him from behind. He pinned his arms and legs to his body.

Rigby growled, spittle flying from his foamy mouth. He struggled and squirmed, trying to escape the grasp.

"Quickly, get some rope or something!" Muscle Man said, his face visibly strained at keeping the raccoon still.

Pops volunteered and darted across the hallway to grab some spare rope from the supply closet.

Benson breathed deeply, watching the scene with a horrified expression. "This is… so.. fu-"

Before Benson could finish, Rigby twisted his head around enough to reach Mitch's upper arm. He dug his teeth into the arm. Muscle Man shrieked in a blend of surprise and pain and threw his hands up. Rigby released his jaws and fell to the ground.

"No!" Skips hurried inside, trying to grab Mitch.

Rigby let out another hiss before he snaked between the park crew's feet and escaped into the hallway. Pops, with an armful of rope, let out a squeal as he found himself in between a crazed Rigby and the stairwell.

Rigby slammed into him, sending both of them tumbling down the stairs.

"POPS!" Benson cried out, rushing towards the staircase with Mordecai following behind.

Pops was lying at the bottom of the stairs, groaning. His head had struck the ground hard and his glaze was hazy. The bundle of rope was scattered everywhere. Benson bent down and waved his hand in front of Pop's eyes.

Rigby was already gone. The slam of the door told Mordecai where he had gone to.

"Go after him! Try to get him to calm down! We'll follow you!" Benson shouted.

Mordecai gave a brief nod and chased Rigby into the park. He could barely see the small brown figure running across the lawn into the forest in the cover of the night. He was not as fast as Rigby and it was not long until the thick undergrowth of the park forest had obscured his figure completely.

"Rigby!" He called out. The cries of bats and the songs of the crickets replied. He kept on running but kept on stumbling over the roots and twigs. His mind was on repeat.

It will be too late for him.

It will be too late for him.

It will be too late for him.

He did not want to believe that. How could his friend be gone already? It was unfair. He was fine a few days ago. They had fun playing video games on the couch. They had slacked off and gotten yelled at by Benson. They had accidentally unleashed some worldly horror and needed Skips for help. It had always been that way. Why had it all changed?

Because he got bitten a week ago.

His foot got caught under a root. His body lurched forwards, and he went tumbling. The ground dipped downwards dramatically, and he rolled into prickly bushes and jagged branches. He cried out in pain as he slammed against the dirt clearing. Worst of all, a sharp, intense pain burst out from his chest. The air rushed out from his lungs.

Mordecai let out a pained cough and found it hard to breathe. He let out sharp gasps and tried to roll over into a more comfortable position. He managed to get on his side, but his chest would not let him move any further.

"Guh! Help... me…" His voice would not carry. He coughed up the rest of his words.

Tears swelled up in his eyes. The pains were too much. Both came from his chest. Broken bones be damned, for his heart was also in pain.

It will be too late for him.

It was too late for him. Mordecai tried to place his hopes on recovery, but there was no recovery from the late stage of rabies.

He had killed his best friend.

If only he had gone out with his friend that night, then maybe the bat would not have bitten him. If he had not lost his temper at that moment and refused to help, then he and Rigby would have been just been playing games on the couch.

He had killed his best friend.

A choked sob escaped his throat.

Now, both of them were stuck out here, cold and in agony.

There was a growl coming from the bushes in front of him. A pair of yellow eyes glowering at him from the depths.

He recognised that growl. He reached out his hand towards the bushes. "Rigby?"

Spittle dribbled from the leaves. A nose prodded through. A foaming mouth followed next. Slowly, Rigby's rabid face poked through the foliage.

"I'm so sorry, man. I should have been there."

Rigby only let out a bubbly growl. He snapped his jaws towards Mordecai's outstretched hand, but he was still quite a distance away. His hands clawed forwards. It looked like he was straining to simply move forward.

When the rest of his body escaped the bushes, Mordecai could see why. The fall must have broken his legs. He was simply dragging them behind him, using his arms to pull himself forward. The simple effort to leave the deep undergrowth must have taken a lot of out of him since his arms shuddered and collapsed to the floor.

Rigby winced as he crumpled, unceremoniously.

Mordecai could not reach him. He would never reach him. He was too far away and too far gone.

The tears began to flow, and he could not stop the painful sobs. "I wish I could take it back. I would take it back…"

Rigby raised his head, slightly. At that moment, the aggression was gone. It was replaced by an agonised fear. The saliva was pooling out of his mouth and he was starting to shake uncontrollably. He made a sound. It was a whimper.

Rigby's arm, shakily, pulled itself towards Mordecai's own fallen arm.

The bloody fingers touched Mordecai's.

Mordecai tried to cling to them but simply could not move any closer. His chest screamed in pain.

Rigby's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he began to convulse violently. His other hand began to claw at his own throat. A choking cough escaped his frothy jaws.

Then, Mordecai heard it.

"Mo…mord.."

Then, it was all silent.

Rigby stopped moving. The night fell into silence.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

That was impossible. Rigby was not moving. He would never move again. Where was the scratching sound coming from?

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Scratch.


A/N:

I think I wrote this when the show ended in 2017. Twas a good show and I had enjoyed it thoroughly. I guess that is why I wrote this? I hope you enjoyed, regardless.