Post by Quill on Mar 2, 2011 17:45:13 GMT -5
Jake abruptly jolted away with an undignified snort, a few disturbing traces of some nightmare trickling away from his conscious mind. He rubbed drowsily at his face, wiping away the remnants of a sticky puddle of drool, his free hand groping for a light switch. As he flicked the lamp on, his groggy mind briefly wondered why he had fallen asleep on the couch.
“Oh, Stephen,” he mumbled. With Stephen’s fever as bad as it was, he had insisted on letting him have the bedroom to himself. “Better check on him…” He stood and made his way towards the bedroom door, but he hadn’t laid a finger on the handle when it suddenly turned by itself and swung inwards.
Stephen stood in the doorway, pale and swaying drunkenly. He carelessly pushed Jake to one side, shambling zombie-like towards the kitchen. Worried and confused, Jake trailed after him.
“Stephen? You really shouldn’t be up, you know. If you need something, I could…” Stephen wasn’t listening to him. he was fumbling in the cabinets and drawers for something, stopping occasionally as a fit of coughing wracked his body. “Stephen, seriously, you need to go back to bed.” Jake moved to grab his roommate’s arm and forcibly drag him back, only to be shoved back with a rasping snarl.
”You don’t know!” Stephen wheezed, stopping to cough again. “Have to…have to get…” Another coughing fit stopped him mid-sentence. “…get it…out…”
“What are you talking about?! Stephen, you’re delirious from the fever. You need to go back to—” Jake grabbed Stephen’s arm, and froze. “What…” He yanked back Stephen’s sleeve, revealing the bumps and boils that now ran all across the pale skin. “Wh-when did you get these?”
Stephen let out a low, feral noise, sharply pulling his arm from Jake’s grasp. “Don’t touch me!”
Jake stared at him, starting to feel rather sick and, somewhere in the back of his mind, even afraid. “I…I’m calling the doctor. Just stay calm…” He managed to grab his cell, beginning to dial as Stephen went back to his rummaging. As Jake struggled to recall the doctor’s number, Stephen found what he was searching for.
“This…I can get it out…out…” Stephen’s breathing grew harsher and heavier, coughing and gagging as if something had become lodged in his throat. He lifted the knife nearer to his face, twisting it around as if trying to fit a piece into a puzzle.
Jake lunged for him, his fingers brushing past the knife by less than an inch, inertia carrying him into the kitchen counter with a grunt. Behind him, he heard a disgusting wet noise, and Stephen began to scream.
The knife fell with a wetly muffled clatter, followed by Stephen, who was beginning to retch and choke on his own blood. Jake had to force his stomach not to follow suit, grabbing for his phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My f-friend! He…his tongue—!” He didn’t dare look at Stephen, who was either vomiting or beginning to cough up something wet.
“Please calm down sir. Please tell me your location and I’ll send—” Whatever the operator said next, Jake didn’t hear. His phone fell to the floor with a crash as he felt something slimy wrap around his ankle.
“Oh, Stephen,” he mumbled. With Stephen’s fever as bad as it was, he had insisted on letting him have the bedroom to himself. “Better check on him…” He stood and made his way towards the bedroom door, but he hadn’t laid a finger on the handle when it suddenly turned by itself and swung inwards.
Stephen stood in the doorway, pale and swaying drunkenly. He carelessly pushed Jake to one side, shambling zombie-like towards the kitchen. Worried and confused, Jake trailed after him.
“Stephen? You really shouldn’t be up, you know. If you need something, I could…” Stephen wasn’t listening to him. he was fumbling in the cabinets and drawers for something, stopping occasionally as a fit of coughing wracked his body. “Stephen, seriously, you need to go back to bed.” Jake moved to grab his roommate’s arm and forcibly drag him back, only to be shoved back with a rasping snarl.
”You don’t know!” Stephen wheezed, stopping to cough again. “Have to…have to get…” Another coughing fit stopped him mid-sentence. “…get it…out…”
“What are you talking about?! Stephen, you’re delirious from the fever. You need to go back to—” Jake grabbed Stephen’s arm, and froze. “What…” He yanked back Stephen’s sleeve, revealing the bumps and boils that now ran all across the pale skin. “Wh-when did you get these?”
Stephen let out a low, feral noise, sharply pulling his arm from Jake’s grasp. “Don’t touch me!”
Jake stared at him, starting to feel rather sick and, somewhere in the back of his mind, even afraid. “I…I’m calling the doctor. Just stay calm…” He managed to grab his cell, beginning to dial as Stephen went back to his rummaging. As Jake struggled to recall the doctor’s number, Stephen found what he was searching for.
“This…I can get it out…out…” Stephen’s breathing grew harsher and heavier, coughing and gagging as if something had become lodged in his throat. He lifted the knife nearer to his face, twisting it around as if trying to fit a piece into a puzzle.
Jake lunged for him, his fingers brushing past the knife by less than an inch, inertia carrying him into the kitchen counter with a grunt. Behind him, he heard a disgusting wet noise, and Stephen began to scream.
The knife fell with a wetly muffled clatter, followed by Stephen, who was beginning to retch and choke on his own blood. Jake had to force his stomach not to follow suit, grabbing for his phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My f-friend! He…his tongue—!” He didn’t dare look at Stephen, who was either vomiting or beginning to cough up something wet.
“Please calm down sir. Please tell me your location and I’ll send—” Whatever the operator said next, Jake didn’t hear. His phone fell to the floor with a crash as he felt something slimy wrap around his ankle.
