While we walk away I suck up my tears and put on my brave face for Dad, emotions can wait. As we walk up the few steps to the ward I trip. At first I think I'm okay and I get up without a problem, ignoring the throbbing coming from my leg. Then I feel it. Like a million claws tearing my skin apart. My muscles begin to spasm and my knees buckle with the pain. I fall to the floor and Fiona falls with me. The needles travel up my spine, pricking every nerve. I arch my back and slump down again. My flesh begins to burn and I soon can't focus. The stabs suck the screams from me as I writhe in pain on the floor. Black spots come into my vision as two arms pick me up and carry me back to the bed.
I sip the water that Alex handed me slowly. I still feel sick. My leg began to spasm uncontrollably after Fiona carried me back to the ward. Each spasm sent an spike of searing pain all through my spine. My blood pressure dropped so quickly I nearly fainted and I began throwing up nothing since I haven't eaten in the last 24 hours. My leg continues to twitch as I lie in the bed opposite Dad. Alex peels of my bandages and another wave of dizziness hits me. My leg's beginning to heal and has scabbed against the bandage.
"Take a deep breath." I fill my lungs and scrunch my eyes up. "Three, two, one." Alex rips the rest of my scab off along with the scrap of material. My breath whooshes out and my leg shakes more violently. He pats my arm. "Good news is. You're making progress. I'm sorry I can't give you anything." I nod but don't speak. I'm too exhausted. Whatever just happened was not normal. "I'll leave you alone for a bit." I force a weak smile and close my eyes. I need some time alone. I hear him walk away to Dad who's trapped in some sort of fever dream. The occasional moan escapes his lips and my eyes snap open at each sound. I'm so on edge. I haven't slept a wink since we left the hotel. That was just over a day ago. I watch the sun climb in the sky through the thin windows by the ceiling along the wall. Two days ago I was lying in bed, wondering if it was worth getting up to have a shower. Now I'm alone with my thoughts I finally give in to the emotions that have plagued on my mind. It's time to except the grim facts. I decide the only rational way was to tick them off one by one.
Mum is dead. That's the first hit. I don't cry. I just keep my eyes shut and breathe deeply.
Tim is dead. Another blow. I nearly lose control but I take in a deeper breath and continue.
Dad will die. It's the hardest one to face but I must accept it. As if on cue I am pulled out of my black depression to Dad sobbing loudly. He's too pale. The sweat soaks his hair and skin. Unrecognisable slurs come from him and before I sit up again I settle on the final fact.
I won't make it out alive. For some reason I find this the easiest one to settle on and even more strangely, I find it comforting. The fact that I will not have to go into care and go to three funerals. I don't need a medical degree to know that the yellow stain on the sheets by my leg that my bite is infected. The fact that I had some sort of attack on my system can't be ignored. My bite is the one thing that's causing it. So much for being immune. One bite can change you. One bite can kill you. One bite has killed me.
"Abbey?" I sit up. Fiona is sat on the end of the bed, a file in her hand.
"Yeah?" I croak.
"Look at this. I found it in one of the research labs while we were digging for meds." She passes it over and I look at the various graphs and tables.
"What about it?" She points the bold writing on the tab of the file. "Ex. Well that probably stands for experiment and L. By the poor handwriting I can't tell you much but by the sounds of things they were creating a death defying drug."
"Um..." I tried to connect the information on the page but it's still a load of nonsense. Fiona explains it further.
"You know when someone dies, they use the defibrillator on them in hospitals. They were creating this to be used instead. Alex told me It's filled with the same sort of chemicals that give you the reaction of adrenaline. They were planning to shoot it into people to kick start their system."
"So you think, something went wrong and that's how the zombies were made?" She shrugs.
"It's a hunch." I suppose it could be right. I nod. The air is shattered by the sound of Dad's inhuman scream. My ears ring at the shrieks. Fiona snaps her head round.
"I could use some help!" Alex is holding down Dad, who is thrashing madly on the bed. We get up go over. "Abbey, on the table, there's a shot." I turn and grab a syringe filled with a light yellowish liquid. Alex pulls of the plastic cap with is mouth and then plunges it into the base of Dad's neck. The thrashing stops and we all breathe out. A final slump shakes the bed.
"What was that?" Alex doesn't reply. Dad doesn't move. His chest doesn't even rise and fall. He's not breathing. I look at Alex."What the hell was that?" I shout at him.
"Something that will stop his pain." I walk over to the plastic table and pick up the syringe. I drop it again at the bitter smell that burns my nose. It's bleach. I put two and two together.
"You bastard!" I lunge for him and it knocks him to the floor. I claw at his face. Dad was the only thing I had left. "I trusted you! I thought you were going to help us!" Fiona lifts me off Alex but I still kick and shriek. She pulls me in and my angry screams turn to sobs and I slide to the floor as my legs give way. She rubs my back as every part of me is thrown onto the off-white plastic tiles. There's nothing left. I have nothing to live for. My chest aches. I screw my eyes up.
Just a dream. Just a dream.
I watch as Alex gets up and takes the sheet and pull it over Dad's lifeless body. I barely breathe. I close my eyes again and try and bring happy memories but all I get is Dad and the woman he worked with. Them in the coffee shop I used to walk by everyday. Him and her. Not him and Mum. The seconds roll by with the tears soaking my lose fitting clothes. Finally I find one. I focus on it. The one my brain will allow. Dad. Rushing through the doors of the ward, nervous excitement covering his face. A large grin spreading from ear to ear and taking Tim, just minutes old, then looking at Mum. That's when I decide. I can let go.
Bye bye Daddy.