Chapter 22 The Doctor
The Doctor
“Take me down there.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand.
My little raver is curious. She’s seeing the world for what it truly is. No more rose-tinted glasses, no more illusions. Just raw, unfiltered infection.
I lead her down to the crowds, watching as she passes through like a ghost. Her eyes are wide, tracking every person, checking their differences. I know she can see their blackened veins, the sunken faces, the infection bleeding out of them.
She glances back at me when she happens upon a particularly over-infected being. Their skin is sick, peeling away from their muscles. Their eyes are hollow and dead. Empty, soulless.
This one has been infected for a long time, it seems, I tell her. Watching as she stalks around them, fingers under her chin as if she’s assessing them piece by pestilent piece. Their empty eyes barely even track her movements.
“Can I do it?” she questions, looking at me, a fire burning deep in her eyes.
I nod slowly, taken aback by her unusual request. Reaching into my suit pocket, I pull out a single humor vile. It’s cold between my fingers, even with the leather separating us. The one reserved only for the most infected patients.
I flick the glass top off, placing the vile in her waiting hand. She moves quickly, dancing around the infected like a goddess made for entertainment.
She fakes it all so well, dancing with them like a lover, making them feel safe, normal. Her eyes meet mine, turning into devilish slits. She smiles, a wicked one, licks her lips, and leans into the person.
Her other hand moves so quickly, you could only see it if you were looking. I watch as the vile catches skin. She struggles slightly but continues pushing until it breaks through the patient’s neck muscles.
Blood arcs through the air, spattering across Indy’s face. It lasts only seconds before it begins sputtering out in long waves, traveling down the patient's body until a dark puddle forms beneath them.
She embraces them, almost like a hug, but I can tell her arms are struggling to support the weight. The struggles don’t last long as she leads them to the floor, dropping them in a pile below her.
The patient’s eyes have rolled back, and a foamy greenish substance has begun to trickle out of their mouth. My jaw falls slack in awe.
Such a beautiful angel, perfectly built for destruction. And when she turns to me, a satisfied grin spreads across her face, I know there’s no hope left for me.
My little raver runs through my veins like the pestilence, and only she can cure me.