Decimation

Chapter 16:

I woke up in the early hours of the morning covered in a layer of sticky, thick sweat. The pain coming from my sliced thigh was so intense and I immediately clung onto the wound as I sat myself up.

"Camila," I croaked as I wiped away the wetness on my forehead.

Luckily, she was quick to jolt awake. "What is it?" She whispered groggily but panicked.

"My leg." I threw my head back in response to the pain and had to try hard not to burst into tears. It felt like my entire body was on fire and I could've sworn my wound was bubbling from the heat radiating through it.

Camila jumped up and went into her bag at the side of the bed to get out her torch, shining it on my leg once she had it.

"I'm going to take this off." She warned me before unravelling the bandage. I made the conscious choice to look away but my eyes slowly opened again when I heard a quiet: "Oh my God." come from the Cuban's mouth.

"What is it?" I asked and didn't really need her to answer when I laid eyes on the infected wound. Now mixed in with the pool of dry blood was dark green gung and dull yellow pus – I was feeling too ill to be embarrassed over Camila seeing it and instead let my head flop back down on the pillow.

She brought her hands to her cheeks and stared at the infection, the wheels turning in her head. "I don't know what to do. What do you need?"

"My health back." I replied with whit and brought my hand back up to my sweaty forehead. "I need pain killers."

"Okay," Camila repeated the word to herself a few times. "I'll be right back – just don't move."

"I don't think that's going to be an issue."  I said before Camila disappeared down the stairs. Other than feeling feverish, I felt vulnerable. I never wanted anybody to be my lifeline but right now the younger woman was exactly that – she could let me suffer right now if she wanted to; she could run off out the door and take the car and I would probably die without the care I needed at the minute.

Camila reappeared only minutes later with a tray that held two wet flannels, a bowl of soapy water and a glass of water which had a packet of painkillers perched next to it. "You might want to take these tablets before I start cleaning the wound."

My head shot up at her words. "What?"

"I need to clean it, Lauren – we don't want it spreading."

"What do you know about infections?"

Camila seemed to be offended by my judgement. "Everything my mama taught me. Now, take your pills."

The cleaning of the wound was more painful than I expected it to be. I was more than happy for the moment to end and thanks to my painkillers and cold flannel on my forehead, I eventually drifted back to sleep.

I woke up in the morning to an empty bed. I rubbed tiredly at my face and looked down at my freshly bandaged wound which wasn't hurting as much now.

Giving myself a few minutes to wake up, I eventually pried myself out of bed and carefully made my way downstairs and into the suspiciously quiet living room. "Camila?" I called, but got no answer.

Panic started to set in when I went from room to room calling out for the woman that wasn't responding. I ran to the window in the living room and looked out to see an empty driveway – no car.

She was gone.

-

I sat myself down at the table in kitchen and tried to regulate my breathing. I closed my eyes and tried to relax my clenched jaw and make sense of the situation. Why was I so angry? I'd expected this – I'd called it.