Zombie Rehab: Impact Series - Book 2
Page 4
CHAPTER 4
Location Unknown
The next time he woke up, things were different. The room had changed, and he was starving. The room was illuminated by a blurry light above him, that caused his eyes to ache. He was thirsty. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was raw and sore. He shifted in his bed, and when he heard the steel framework beneath him groan, a thrill raced down his spine. I’m moving.
As he turned his head, he noticed a small metal dresser across the room and a heavy wooden door. When he realized he was partially sitting up, he managed to look around some more. No windows, but there was an air conditioning unit rattling along the wall, alongside a padded metal chair and a table. He reached his hand over his stomach as it groaned. My hand, I can feel my hand!
He held his hand up to his face and watched it tremble as he opened and closed his fingers. He couldn’t feel his legs, but managed to pull his knees up into a bent position. Thank God, I can move! He was still weak, hungry, and confused. What is this place? The haziness in his mind seemed to be lifting like a fog as he peered around the little room. It looked like an old hospital room, decades old, with the original paint, trim, and checkered floors. The room was stuffy, the air from the air conditioner stale, but for some reason he was still thankful that he was breathing. He just had a hard time remembering the last thing he was doing.
He reached and grabbed a bar that was hanging from the ceiling and pulled himself up. A sharp pain stabbed his belly, and his face ached. He tried to remember if he had been in some kind of accident, then he remembered the gauze, the doctor, and the nurse. There were bandages on his face, or something like that. He rubbed his face, his eyes, nose, and head. No medical tape or gauze, just a beard. He didn’t remember ever having a beard. That’s when he noticed a small metal sink in the corner and pulled his legs down onto the floor. There was a mirror hanging cock-eyed over the sink, but the surface was dingy and faded. He managed to push himself up onto his feet and stand. His head swam as the floor began to wobble beneath his shaking feet, and he fell. Every bone in his body shuddered with pain as he lay on the floor trembling, tears streaming from his eyes. He wanted to cry for help, but he was too scared. That doctor was frightening. What was his name, Zhan?
The floor was cold, and his teeth began to chatter as he fought his way off his back and onto his elbows. His chest was heaving now, and his forehead was beaded with sweat as he shivered. That’s when he saw beneath the door: shadows, silent and mysterious, passing by. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they came in and saw him on the floor. Would he be in trouble? Would they knock him out again and for how long? A hundred thoughts began rushing through his head as he low crawled towards the sink. His ancestral instincts were urging him on. Must escape. Adrenaline was fueling his strenuous effort as he managed to make it to his hands and knees. The hard tiles were painful on his knees as his elbows quaked under the strain to move forward, but he pressed on.By the time he reached the bottom of the sink, he was exhausted and wondering how he would find the energy to pull himself up. His tongue was thick in his dry mouth, and all he wanted more than anything was a drink of something wet. That’s when he noticed the shadows underneath the door had stopped. The sound of muffled voices was coming from the other side. What was he going to say when they came in? Please don’t come in. Please, not yet.
Curled up on the floor, he let his fear begin to overtake reason. He closed his eyes and waited. The sound of the muffled voices faded, and when he opened his eyes again the shadows were gone from underneath the door. Relief washed through him, but something else did as well. A sense—primitive within— had awakened. A bit of anger was rising, too, as the images of the living and the dead began to surface in his mind. I’m alive. He reached up and grabbed the lip of the sink, gathered his legs underneath him, and pulled himself up. Almost there. Come on, I’ve gotta have more in me than this.
He gasped and grunted, and the strength in his feeble arms and legs fought the gravity that was holding his big body down.
“No!” he gasped again as he made it up to his knees and began to slip back down. It seemed like the entire earth was against him, pulling him back down into the abyss, but he had been there before. He wasn’t going back. He hung on to the sink and squatted down on his feet, then summoned everything he had as his shaking body rose to his feet. I made it! He wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked into the blurry mirror. He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror, a greasy head of long brown hair and a scruffy beard that hid most of his face. Nothing was right. All out of place. His fingers brushed over his cheeks, nose, and chin. Tears formed in his eyes. I’ve gone mad. He touched the image in the mirror, then pulled his fingers back. He was changed, different, no longer who he once was. No longer the man he thought he was. But the eyes were the mirror to the soul, and those brown eyes he saw were still his own. There was no doubt in his mind that the man he was looking at was Nate McDaniel, the Man Who Saved the World. He heard footsteps and twirled around. I’ve got to get out of here.
He licked his hairy lips with his dry tongue. He felt like he could drink a river. The spigot squeaked as he turned it on and let the cold water run over his fingertips. It felt like something from heaven. He grabbed a small cup from the sink's edge and began to fill it. As he brought the liquid to his lips he smiled. On no! He blacked out and sank back to the floor.