Contagion

I felt cold. There was a blanket wrapped around me tightly like bounds on a slave, and yet, it did not help me from freezing over. My hands were shaking and my eyes felt heavy, and I had no idea why. Having no recollection of how I got here, or even who I was, I called out in a desperate attempt to find out.
"Hello?" I called, my voice strained. "Is anyone there?"
I could feel a hot breath tickle my neck. I swallowed bile. I quickly realized that I wasn't alone. I turned around to see a man in his forties, a scar running down his stubble-ridden face. His bloodshot eyes darted, studying my face, and his visage remained indignant. His snake-like tongue met his teeth and he spoke.
"We're all infected here."
I paused and stuttered, "What do you mean, infected?"
"We're all infected here," he repeated in a monotone voice. He stood up and shuffled away, whispering the mantra to himself. "We're all infected here. We're all infected here."
Confused by his behavior, I stood up, determined to do some investigation of my own. I began to walk around, stumbling across the void, incredibly dubious about the general safety of my non-prosaic environment. The cement floors were stained with a brown liquid that had somewhat solidified over the amount of time it had been here. The cot I had woken up on had a grayish tint to it. I noticed a mirror halfway across the room, directly in front of the cot. Walking up to it, I wiped off the dust on its surface and looked into it, seeing nothing that would be considered unusual, just tired eyes and a slightly rubicund complexion.
A fusillade of questions flooded my brain. How was I here? Why was I here? Who am I? What is this place? My curiosity didn't hold out much longer, and soon, I would make the terrible decision of leaving my room.
The door creaked audibly as I doughtily took my first steps outside. The hallway was a painting. There was no movement and no sound, if you didn't count the consistent "clack, clack" of my shoes hitting the hard cement floor. There was an eerie silence, and then I heard a groan. I looked to my left and I saw another man, younger than the strange one I had met before.
"Hey!" I shouted, waving my hands. "Help me!"
He stumbled over to me, shuffling his feet.
"Hey!" I shouted again, my voice echoing off the cold walls of the deserted hallway.
He made his way over to me slowly, hobbling like a wounded animal. Once he was in conversational reach, he said bibulously, "Get out while you still can. Out while you still can. While you still can. You still can. Still can. Can."
Were all the people mad in here?
"What do you mean?" I broached.
"What do you mean?" he parroted. "Do you mean? You mean? Mean?"
I was becoming desperate. I grabbed the stranger by the shoulders, shaking him, screaming, "Help me! I don't know where I am! I don't know who I am! Stop this and help me!"
He averted his eyes, looking down at my feet, "You're bleeding. Bleeding."
I looked down to my feet and saw that they were cut, blood trickling down the soles, and me standing in a sea of the red liquid. Why hadn't I felt it? I looked back into his eyes. I hadn't noticed it, but the whites of his eyes were the same red shade as the first man I had met. I asked, "Are my eyes red?"
"Yes," he replied. "Very much so. Much-"
"Please don't," I interrupted. I tried to wrap my mind around it. Was I to have the same fate as these men? "What's your name?"
"Don't have one," he responded. "Have one. One."
I have no idea why, but I found this strange. Although I had no name, I believed that everyone should have a name, something to call them by. Otherwise, they don't have a mark on this earth. They are, in other's eyes, invisible-nonexistent. And I was, too. We were both nonexistent persons.
"Am I going to die here?" I asked, my voice paled.
"Depends," he said. "Depends on what you do. On what you do. What you do. You do. Do."
Death was eminent as well. I didn't want to seem presumptuous, thinking as though that since I was in a strange place that death was to happen. But it could. It could happen and I could feel my heart falling to the cement floor.
"Is there anyone else here?" I asked.
"There's many people," he replied. "Many people. People."
"Are they all... infected?" I asked.
"Some more than others," he said. "More than others. Than others. Others. But don't find out. Don't find out. Find out. Don't talk to the Doctor. Talk to the Doctor. To the Doctor. The Doctor."
'The Doctor?' I thought. 'A new character.'
"Who is the Doctor?" I asked.
He didn't respond and left abruptly.
"Did the Doctor bring us here?" I called after him, running to catch up.
"Yes," he said, "but we don't talk about it. But we don't talk about it. We don't talk about it. Talk about it. About it. It."
At this point, it was too late to try condoling myself. "I'm here whether I like it or not, but I could try to leave," I thought with credulity. There was a world outside of here, that I was sure of, and they would help me. I didn't know who they were, but they must be there somewhere.
"Why don't you talk about it? Are you afraid of maligning him?" I questioned.
In my moment of reflection, the man had left, leaving me stranded in the abandoned hallway, but I knew that this would make my escape easier.
I walked to the end of the hall, where there was a door, from which I heard a strange chanting, as if a fakir was putting a curse on some talisman. I knew that investigating this happening would betoken negative consequences, but I ignored this feeling and resumed my exploration.
Shaking the knob of the door, I burst into the room, only to be greeted by...nothing. There was not a soul in the entire room. I closed the door suspiciously, unwilling to take my eyes off of it. Had I imagined it? Was my mind merely playing frivolous jokes on my senses? I had no idea.
The chanting had stopped, but soon, I began to see things. I ran down to the other side of the hall-dead end. I looked to my right and discovered that the wall on that side had disappeared. I ran toward the empty space, which in turn, happened to be not-so-empty. Heart racing, I looked for a window to, hopefully,jump out of it. I had to escape. I had to leave this predetermined and premature death. I searched, my eyes scathing from moving so rapidly.
I ran through the empty hallways, my legs barely keeping me up, being so tired. I coughed into my hand, and when I saw it, it was dripping in blood. My head spinned. I'm infected, I thought. I'm dead.
This, however, didn't stop me from wanting to escape.
I staggered through the maze and I saw it. My salvation. An open window. I ran faster than ever before, not caring how tall the building was, not rationalizing at all. I jumped, but hit cold cement wall.
"It was right there!" I screamed helplessly.
Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I crumpled to the floor, exhausted.
That was when the voice interposed between me and my escape. Apathetically, it said, "Mr. Taylor, the Doctor will see you now."