I woke up late the next morning to Gem’s hands on my shoulders, her palm lightly slapping my face. My body felt heavy, my head ached. But within ten minutes, I felt as though none of it happened, except that I was starving.
And not for brains. I smelled bacon and eggs.
Gem was sitting on the edge of the gurney next to me, but I was now inside the house. They’d rolled me over while I was out. I tried to sit up, but Gem held me down.
“Baby, relax for a little longer. Do you feel okay?”
“Let me sit up and I’ll tell you.”
She did. I swung my legs off the gurney and put my feet on the floor. I stood, felt shaky for a second or two, then gained my footing.
“I’m good, I think. Hungry as hell, but good.”
“You didn’t wake until we touched you,” Hemp said. “Same as me and the group at the 7-Eleven.”
“You said you were paralyzed,” Charlie said. “Right before you went blank. Eyes open, but gone.”
“Lights were dim, nobody home,” Gem said, smiling.
Charlie was dressed in one of Hemp’s shirts. Cambridge University Alumni. She looked cute, but I was sure she’d rather be wearing a Sex Pistols shirt or maybe The Clash, sticking with the British theme.
“So it seems to be a paralytic agent in the vapor,” Hemp said. “Analysis is still underway.”
“Whatever it is, it’s effective,” I said. “I didn’t stand a chance, and I’m clearly not susceptible to the plague, virus, or whatever the hell it is.”
Hemp sat down on the sofa and stared into space. “The virus itself is completely separate from this. This is some sort of side effect from decomposition and the condition, as far as I can tell. Perhaps like some sort of chloroform gas, but with additional interesting properties.”
“Like the paralyzing effect,” I suggested.
“Exactly.”
“Well, I want some of that bacon and those eggs I smell. After that, I should be back to normal. Gem? You still mad at me?”
She shook her head. “The breakfast I’m about to plate for you should prove that I’m not. Plus . . . what I’ll serve you later.”
I smiled. And I looked forward to both.
“Coffee?”
“Of course, baby. A big mug.”
And I ate enough for both of us.
Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle Page 47
