Capital Falling (Book 3): Resurgence by Winkless Lance

Author:Winkless, Lance [Winkless, Lance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombies
Published: 2020-02-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Wherever I am, as my consciousness starts to return, I forget. I only know that I’m not surrounded by the soft sheets and forgiving comfort of my bed at home. I know it because I’m slouched with hard surfaces below and behind me. Agony aches throughout my back which feels like it would shatter if I attempted to move. My bum is dead, paralysed by my position and pins and needles shoot up and down my legs as if shards of broken glass are swirling around in my veins.

There is no sound that might help me distinguish my location—or is the throbbing pain in my head applying pressure on my brain to block it processing the sound waves as it stifles my reality?

Something tugs on the tender skin on my cheek. I manage to turn my head an inch to try and move away from whatever cruelty is pulling at it. Moving only encourages their nasty game as the tugging increases, so I keep my head still.

I am afraid to look, to see what it is that torments me. If I open my eyes and they see that I am awake, what else could they have in store for me? I have to look though; I can’t avoid it forever. My eyelids twitch and try to open but they are stuck together as if they have been glued shut. I try again, the skin of my eyelids straining to pull apart, threatening to tear the delicate skin. It is impossible; they won’t open—has the skin grown conjoined, to stop me from seeing? I submit and rest, conserving my energy, waiting to see what they have planned next.

My right hand has hold of something, and my fingers move discretely around it, trying to discover what it is. The object is small and round, with a raised notch, a button. I press the button and my ears hear it click, proving that I am at least not deaf. The click rouses a memory, a memory of a torch I found on the floor, where I found a box too. Slowly, my mind starts to work again. The box contained syringes, syringes that I plunged into myself, to make me well again.

The torch and box were on the floor of Sir Malcolm’s bathroom. Concentrating, I slowly start to remember my circumstances. The Rabid slashing at my face and scratching my cheek; the beast infecting me. Later, waking up dazed and confused like I am now and shut in Sir Malcolm’s bathroom, alone. Despite my visions and nightmares, I remember that I was alone, so what the hell is tugging at my cheek?

Reality starts to gather in my mind, slowly, as my memory returns. The thought that I have been infected is hard to fathom, so why is my brain still working? My head moves unintentionally, and again something tugs at my cheek and wobbles. It takes some courage to lift my arm. I am still afraid, but have to find out what is toying with me.

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