The Divine Infection

Chapter Twenty-One: Sink or Swim

I can't move, I can't feel anything. The world feels blurry, cold, horrible. Water feels like hands, wrapping around every inch of my body, and I can feel a horrible pressure on my wrist, like something is dragging my numb and motionless body deeper and deeper into the water. I don't dare try to glance at what could possibly be gripping me so tightly, partly because I can't move and partly because I don't want to anyway. What's the point in trying? I'm just going to drown down here, there's no use in pretending I care anymore.

And then, I feel something grab my other wrist and pull me upwards, towards air. I feel my eyes close as air bubbles leave my lips, releasing the last tiny amount of air in my lungs, until finally, finally-

Cold air hits me like a thousand bullets rushing past my skin just shy of piercing distance, and I gasp as air whooshes into my aching lungs, my eyes flying open to survey my surroundings. Someone is holding tightly onto me by my waist, carrying me quickly out of the loch. Water splashes as whoever is holding me swims, and moments later my back hits cold, hard, solid ground. I lie on my back for a while, staring straight up at the smoke-clouded sky, until Shotgun-guy comes int view, meeting my gaze and asking something I can't hear too clearly. It sounds as though we're still underwater...

I push up to a sitting position with a grunt, shaking my head back and forth to shake the water from my ears and hair and the sand from my matter brown hair.

"...you okay?" He asks me when I've finished shaking my head. "You look a bit..." He frowns at the same time as I do. "Wet?"

I shoot him a pointed look. Then, "something grabbed me down there. What was it? Was it-"

"It was nothing. Probably just a fish, or seaweed, or-"

"It grabbed me. With fingers. That was no bloody fish!" I gasp out, my throat and lungs still burning for air. "There was something down there, and I don't know what it was, I don't even want to know what it was, but it grabbed me right here, and..." I trail off as I raise my arm and point to my wrist. The usually-pale skin of my wrist is a deep, mottled purple-red, stretching in thick lines around my wrist like long, stick-like fingers. I bite my lip as I stare at the marks, and then glance back towards Shotgun-guy as he speaks.

"I don't know what could've done that. I've never seen anything like it. A zombie couldn't do this..." The unspoken "could it?" hangs in his eyes, and I can see the confusion on his tanned features as he pushes to his feet and holds out a hand for me. "Come on, we'd better get out of here before someone-" I hear a loud, screeching alarm pierce through the air, emanating from the factory behind us. "...Triggers the alarm." He finishes, frowning. I quickly take his offered hand, letting go quickly once I'm on my feet again. Sand clings to my clothes and skin, and I'm soaked through, thanks to all that "swimming". Shotgun-guy quickly starts running forward across the small beach, and I follow suit, my limbs all aching as we move quickly. We must run for about five minutes before we end up near the back of the factory, and it's then that I see the blue van, sitting with its doors all wide open, a thick red trail across the dirty ground. I stare at the scene before me in silence for a couple of minutes, unable to say anything, unable to process the situation. Shotgun-guy takes several steps forward, and then looks back over his shoulder at me expectantly. "Are you coming?" He asks. Nervously, I take a step forward, then two, then three, until before I know it I'm standing right in front of the van, shaking my head slowly.

No, no, no, no, no...not Chappell. It can't be...because I left him... No, no, no, he's fine, right? This has got to be bloat blood...

"It's human." Shotgun-guy says quickly. "You knew him, then? Chappell?"

"He...he's part of our group. He was a friend." I gasp out, still staring down at the blood. Then, nervously, mustering up courage I know I don't have, I edge around to the back of the van. The trail is thicker by this point, and I swallow bile quickly. Taking a step to the side, I prepare myself for what I know I'm about to see. But then again, preparation has never made it any more bearable than it actually is anyway. And definitely not this time, either.