095. Sickness and health, 1
I can’t move my left arm anymore. It doesn’t look like human flesh and skin anymore.
I’ve heard stories of limbs that had to be cut because of infections at their end. Will I need to lose my arm up to the elbow? Even higher perhaps?
I walk barely. I can’t stay there. I need a shelter to rest. If I’m lucky, maybe I will wake up tomorrow. Though I can’t sincerely bet on it.
I end up crawling to get out of the stream with its rocky bed. Fields, woods a bit further. Houses in the distance... I miss cities. The countryside is less and less appealing to me now.
I take a look around. Hopefully I don’t see any other beast closing by. I’m panting.
I would like to dig a hole in the ground and hide myself inside like these small mammals if I could. I’d feel secure.
I need to find a place to collapse. A place to rise my chances of surviving through the night. Let’s be honest, they are still low, even if nothing else comes after me.
I reach the small woods. Only a dozen trees maybe. Nothing. Further...
I fall. I crawl. I manage to stand again on my trembling legs. A shed further.
So far. It takes forever to reach it.
I’ve heard of people keeping little stashes of medical supplies nowadays, like they do with crates in the army but smaller.
Small boxes with a bit of everything. I wish I could have the luck of finding one inside this shed up ahead. But If I found dirty rags to cover myself, I’d already consider myself lucky.
A small shed more than anything. Tools. Boxes of fertiliser perhaps. No, it doesn’t smell that much. I don’t care; There was a lighter and a lamp on the table. I manage to lit it.
I close the door and push pieces of planks behind it to lock it.
There’s a stove, I may be lucky. I throw in what I can still handle. I try to lit the fire in. The lamp slips and fall inside. The oil burns.
I let it as is.
With what’s left of my clothes, I make shoddy bandages over the worse wounds I can make out in the dim light.
I go lie on the floor and curl myself around the stove. I hope I survive.
~
My chest hurts. My lungs hurt, trying to move my ribcage it feels as if my bones are of rotten wood and will all break if I try to move.
I can see light. I survived. Let’s try to stay alive until the sunset now.
First I would need to move and stand up, but my body is too weak. It doesn’t move at all anymore.
I can guess blood stains on the ground, stuck to me. My left arm has colours human flesh should never have. Mostly over the hand and wrist, but above too. The flesh is paler above and has red stains below. Does this mean that blood is not flowing anymore? Am I dead?
I don’t think I am, but my arm might be... I don’t remember when I lost my shoes and socks, but I’m barefoot now I can see.
My chest aches, but it still moves a bit when I breathe. I can move though.
~
Slowly, I manage to move a little, to roll, and to sit then. I feel dizzy when my head is finally lifted above the ground. I feel nauseous too.
I’m impressed I managed to make it this far yesterday, now that I think about it.
It’s hard to move and I think every muscle in my body just longs for some rest. I still force myself to crawl around that place, to eat and drink what can be, whatever it is. Now it’s probably mid-day and all I could do was that.
I’ll survive. It’ll be hard today and tomorrow, but I’ll survive.
I feel weird in my left arm. The stains are less visible now. The feelings slowly come back. And I’m losing consciousness. I can’t see anything anymore. I can’t move. I’m only waiting in a dreamless sleep. Deep sudden rest, but still aware...
I hear someone entering the place, but my emotions are too numb to react. I can’t react. I don’t. I’m not dead yet, but close.
I’m not giving up and try to move. I think I succeeded because I heard a reaction to it. I think. Then I don’t remember. It’s like passing out while being asleep.
~
I slowly woke up. I feel pain. It’s dark already? I’m not sure. I need more rest.
I’m lying properly on a bed? Someone took care of me.
I see a face over mine. I recognise Victoria and I’m scared.
Ah, no, it’s Ann... I don’t know if this is good or bad news. How did she found me? Why did she help me?
Her face looks properly worse than mine, but at least she can move around without pain.
She tries to speak to me, but I can’t understand what she says, and my voice doesn’t come out either.
I can barely move. When I try, she comes immediately and stops me, pushing my head back down. She probably tells me to rest, or that she will me later. I don’t know. I feel tired.
She took care of my wounds. I saw her doing so. I also saw her vomit when she got a closer look at my left hand. So it’s beyond saving now I guess, uh?
Maybe I’ll set a hook there instead. Or a nib. Time will tell.
She fed me. I can’t really taste it properly. It tasted like old blood mixed with wine and milk, lukewarm. It tastes the same when it’s a piece of vegetable though, with only a subtle perfume of mud. Then another cup of that strange brewery. It looked white I think. Probably just milk. Lukewarm. I hate that. I’ve heard it’s easier to digest that way though. Maybe she’s right.
I don’t know why but she’s crying now. Ah, wait, maybe I know. Both her daughters died horribly. That reminds me that she lied to me.
That thought is haunting me now... It’s telling me that I can’t trust her. I’m glaring at her.
I’m just awful, seeing all what she just did for me. I’m an awful being, and in more ways than one. She sighs. She gets closer and I think she’s holding me.
~
