Then I felt the blade slice into my stomach. Even when I knew it was coming, it never made it easier. But they weren’t just cutting my stomach. I could feel their knives all over, as they sliced up my legs, my arms, my chest, anywhere they reach. They were dicing me up.
“Remy!” Daniels was yelling but I couldn’t see his face. He wasn’t in the operating room with us, but I could hear him. “Remy, stop! Please!”
“Let me go!” I screamed, and I could actually hear my own words. The gag wasn’t in my mouth anymore.
“Boden!” Daniels shouted. “Boden, I need your help!”
“Please,” I was begging with tears streaming down my cheeks. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”
“Nobody’s gonna hurt you.” That was Boden’s voice, calm and soothing, and I felt his hands, strong and warm on my arms. “But you need to settle down, or you’re going to hurt yourself.”
I blinked, unable to understand what was happening, and the vision of the operating room cleared. Boden was sitting beside me, pinning down each of my arms. I was freezing, and my teeth began to chatter.
“What’s going on?” I asked, and my throat felt raw. I wondered how much I’d been screaming.
“You’re clothes are soaking wet, so Daniels is taking them off,” Boden said. “He’ll put you in dry clothes so you don’t get pneumonia.”
Boden had loosened his grip, and I looked around. Daniels must’ve already changed my shirt, because I was wearing a warm, dry sweater instead of the old dirty one I’d had on before. He was in the process of taking off my pants, and they were around my knees, clinging wet to my skin.
“Are you okay?” Boden asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’m okay.”
I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. My body didn’t seem to want to work that way, and pain spread through me.
“Don’t sit up,” Daniels said. “I’ve got it. You just rest.”
I lay back, and he started sliding off my pants again. I didn’t feel any real shame at having him undress me, since he’d had to do it before in his capacity as my doctor. He’d actually seen me naked dozens of times before, and nothing inappropriate ever came of it.
Boden let go of my arms, and for reasons I didn’t fully understand, I grabbed onto his hand, gripping tightly.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why are you sorry?” Boden asked with a crooked smile. With his free hand, he brushed back the hair from forehead.
“I don’t know. I just feel like I should be sorry.”
“You don’t need to be,” he assured me.
“How’s Max?” I asked.
“He’s good,” Boden said. “He’s worried about you, of course, but he’s fine.”
“And Stella?”
“She’s good, too.” He smiled. “She said that if you need her teddy bear, you can have it. It always makes her feel better.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I said, smiling back. My lips were dry, and it actually hurt to smile.
“Good. But just get some rest, okay? You need to sleep.”
I wanted to stay awake and talk more, although I’m not sure what I would’ve said. But Boden was right, and I was out the instant I closed my eyes.
I woke up on and off after that, but I was never awake for long. Max came in to see me, and I remember promising him I would be fine, but that was about it. I mostly slept and had vivid nightmares, usually about the quarantine, but sometimes about other things, like Blue the zombie. But in my nightmares, Blue always won.
“Remy.” Daniels was shaking me awake, but I tried to resist. “Remy. Come on. You need to eat something.”
“I don’t want to eat,” I mumbled and tried to roll over, but his hand was strong on my shoulder.
“You know, it would be so much easier for me to save your life if you weren’t fighting me all the time.” Daniels sighed. “Remy. You have to eat. You haven’t had anything in two days, and you can’t fight off the infection if you’re starving to death.”
“Two days?” I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days,” Daniels replied. He had a plate covered in canned tuna, mashed potatoes, and spinach, and he held it out toward me. “Eat.”
“Two days?” I asked dubiously, and I pushed myself up so I was sitting a bit. My stomach felt sore when I moved, but it felt much better than it had before.
“Yeah, I thought you might go into a coma there for a while,” Daniels said. “But your fever broke this morning, and your color’s returned. I think you might actually live.”
“Thanks.” I took the plate from him, and using the fork he handed me, I tentatively started to pick at the food.
“Remy, why did you wait so long to tell me about that?” Daniels asked. “That would’ve been a simple infection with a quick fix if you hadn’t waited so long.”
“I don’t know.” I ate a mouthful of tuna, even though my appetite hadn’t returned, but I knew I had to eat. “I was mad at you.”
“You were mad at me?” He sighed. “So your plan to punish me was to kill yourself?”