The Diseased Heart

Chapter 19

My mind was hazy, any attempt at a thought was more like trying to swim through thick sludge. The combination of feelings vaguely reminded me of when I had first woken up in the museum - however long ago that was - and these feelings were what pushed me towards gathering my bearings. Feeling like I was waking up from death while vaguely feeling in pain was anything but a good sign. Okay...first things first: what's broken.

A quick test to see how much of my body hurt revealed far too many spots that had the all too familiar feel of a bullet wound. The large entry with a trail of pain leading in, occasionally the trail ended in another wound as it exited out the other side of my body. Sadly, not all of these wounds were two-way, so I still had multiple bullets lodged in my flesh. I could faintly pick out foggy memories of sirens and screeching metal.

There were a few other very painful injuries, however. Many I was able to decipher as impacts, as if I had fallen from a building and crashed onto the ground, though some were harder to point out. I could have sworn I felt a tightness in my skin around some areas of my torso when I breathed, as well as a pressure on my ribcage itself, though I was breathing just fine.

I decided to keep my eyes closed for the time being. Whoever had shot me had definitely tried to kill me, judging my the situation at hand, and to my great luck they had failed. The longer they thought I was dead, the more chance I had to get out of this before they tried again. Whatever they had tried, that is.

I carefully took in a slow, deep breath to gauge the scents around the room. The cold and dusty scent of concrete was abundant, coupled with the faint metallic scent of blood around the room. I could smell my own blood clearly, although not as much as I had suspected. There was another scent though, one I recognized from somewhere, but I had no idea where. I couldn't place the female scent or why I knew it, but I somehow knew it. I must have caught it faintly at some point and am only now picking it up again. It was like an itch I couldn't scratch, my instincts didn't like it when they couldn't understand a scent.

The smell was strong around the room, but concentrated around me. That did not give any good signs or clues as to who had left it other than they had been around my body, but I could tell there was no one within the room at this moment, watching me or waiting for me to wake up. Thank god, I am not dealing with that again.

I slowly pried my eyes open and glanced around the dank room. It was nearly pitch black, by human standards, but for me I could see clearly, able to make out the definition between the giant cinderblocks which made up the walls. The room was built of these concrete bricks, it seemed, each about the size of a car window. On the far side of the room from me was a black door made of heavy metal, I doubted I could bust through it if I tried, but the concrete was a maybe if I ended up unhinged enough to ram against a concrete wall.

I looked down at the area around myself. There was some sort of brace around my torso, I could feel it covering my back, therefore blocking my Crawler legs from extending and making many of my defensive abilities moot. There were also shackles around my wrists and ankles, the thick chains of which were attached to the four corners of the room, thankfully each chain had plenty of slack, which would allow me to move around the room at least somewhat.

I glanced up at the ceiling, there was a lightbulb at the center of the room, but the bulb was out, thankfully. To my dismay, though, there was a camera in the top corner of the room. Whoever had put me here had definitely known I would wake up, otherwise they would have turned the camera off, which certainly set off red flags. The slight chance that this room was intended for something other than me was unlikely, as I failed to think of anything which would require this much security other than a Crawler. Perhaps a very deranged human though...

Knowing there was already someone who knew I had woken from my temporary death, I sat up, no longer needing to play it. It may have been a camera that records all the time while someone watches in a room, and that person may not have seen me, but it was unlikely they were as unprepared as those of their profession were in the movies.

I felt my spine crack several times with the movement after sitting dormant against the stone floor for who knew how long, and to alleviate the growing pain I twisted to either side, hearing dozens more cracks as I did so. The heavy chains dragged slowly across the floor as I moved my arms, each link was almost as big as my fist, but I could likely break the shackle itself or the plate that secured it to the wall with enough force. However, after trying to lift my arm, I realized the chains were far too heavy for me in my weakened state. I sighed, knowing that any attempt at escape would have to wait until my muscles had returned to their former strength.

With a heavy sigh, I glanced around the room again. There was no one here and the door remained locked, but the smell if whoever had put me here still lingered. As if they had spent a long time within this room and their scent had clung to the very walls. It was unsettling. It took a lot of pacing to ingrain ones scent into concrete.

I looked over my torso for the wounds I could feel, but most of them were locked beneath the strange brace which was tightened just barely too tight for me to take in a full deep breath. The few I could see were definitely bullet wounds, but strangely enough, many had been cut open and stitched back closed. The wire stitches were visible along the edges. Had someone...taken the bullets out? Why?

My concern aside, I focused on why someone would attempt making the healing process easier for myself. Who would want a Crawler to heal faster? If I was able to regenerate, but the bullets were stuck inside, then I may heal with them beneath my flesh. Getting them out then would not be easy, because I would have to cut them out, otherwise they could possibly make moving harder for me, but many Crawlers roamed before with sometimes half a dozen rounds somewhere under their flesh. It was stupidly painful at all waking hours, but it wasn't deadly.

Why would anyone want a Crawler to heal?

Do I really want to know the answer?