Oliver opened his eyes. He had barely slept and couldn’t remember drifting off. Perhaps an hour, maybe a little more had passed since they had laid on the bed. Oliver was sleeping almost upright, leaning back on pillows and large cushions. Jenny had curled up on his lap, with a pillow and a quilt pulled almost entirely over her for warmth.
Oliver tried to focus on what had woken him. A rasping sound? A grating guttural rasping. The morning light broke through the blinds and illuminated the room with striped rays. Oliver’s sense of fear sharply rose as he located the sound of desperate gasps.
“Jenny,” he pulled back the quilt and was immediately sickened by what he saw. Jenny lay on his lap, her body arched back in some form of stasis. Her skin was tight to her bones, stretched so tight it looked like it would tear if he touched her. Her eyes were open but he could only see the blood shot whites of her eyes. Jenny’s body trembled, he shook her gently but feared she might snap so brittle she seemed.
“Jenny, oh please god, Jenny,” he cried as he held her fading frame.
11.
Tempus Genesis Page 12