Page 28 of The Dire Reaction

My hands are shaking. “Death? How long after symptom onset?”

“Instant. Once initial symptoms have manifested and resolved, the chance of death becomes minimal.” I must have been holding my breath. It comes out in a long sigh.

“Mode of transmission?” I hope it stays contained to just Sam and me. I think we’re the only people who have touched Thor. Well, maybe Jenny, too.

“There is the potential it has already shifted to airborne. I hope we caught it in time.” His voice has a tremor, but I can hear the truth in his words.

“Thank you, Doctor Paulson. This has been very, um, informative.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day.”

Um, yea. Great.

Chapter sixteen

ALEXANDER

Agnawingpaineatswithin me. Violent hunger possesses my every breath. My eyes finally respond to my thoughts, opening and focusing on the bright orb above me. Rectangular shapes flare in my view, a muted white ceiling abridged with bands of tarnished silver. Tiles. Industrial tiles.

A distracting beeping chimes in time with every beat of my heart. My neck doesn’t want to comply with my will to seek right. Straining, I manage to move a breadth to see the corner of a machine looming over my head. A dark square box with a jumping line crossing the screen. Every jump in tandem with the sound.

Rough fabric stretches over my sensitive body. Gravel has infested my limbs; every joint cries in torment. Grinding, I flex the fingers of my right hand. Aching pain slows the reaction until a new sensation stops me. Sharp nails dig into my hip where my hand rests, drawing a hiss from my lips.

But, my lips don’t draw back. Tight upon my teeth, my mouth feels swollen and sore. Tentatively, I explore my bruised mouth with my tongue to discover something foreign. Sharp. Misshapen. My teeth are different, stabbing at me, pillars within my gums.

My stomach growls again. As it tempers, I hear another sound. A second heartbeat, separate from my own rhythm. A smell of coffee and donuts drifts from beyond my sight.

Creeping slowly, my hand learns to respond to my command. Bunching and relaxing, my fingers ease their prior stiffness. Yet dig mercilessly on the curl.

The pain sharpens my alertness. Steps beyond the room echo through linoleum halls. Hard clicks of fast paces tick my cheek in irritation.

A soft laugh rides a breath nearby, pulling my interest. Grudgingly, the stiff muscles of my neck relent allowing me to find the source.

Silvered hair sits in ringlets pressing over a blue top desperately holding back the ample figure of a woman. She’s turned away, breathily wheezing over a lighted screen she obscures with her rounded body. Faster, her heartbeat flurries. A new scent emanates, hot, pungent. Alluring on a primal level.

My belly tightens in a strange way. The skin of my stomach grows taut, tugging at my flanks.

“Odd,” I struggle to say. A raspy growl is all I hear.

A cacophony of her heart thunders when she jerks in her chair, brown eyes wide locking with mine.

“Did you say something?” Her knuckles lighten as her grip intensifies on the wooden arm of her chair. Pushing herself up, another scent unfurls from her, dank and sour from beneath her arms. A sheen of sweat appears on her brow as her eyes pinch in the corners.

Yes, I want to say, with my throat not yet under my command. A nod instead suffices.

Tentatively she steps forward, with her fingers fervently moving over the glowing screen in her hand.

“Hi, Mister Alex.” I loathe that name. “My name is Becky. Welcome back!” She mimics a smile, but I detect the tremor in her lips, the waver in her speech. “You look even younger,” she says quietly, almost to herself.

She called me Alex. An ire I haven’t kindled in ages surges in my chest. Struggling, I find the blanket binds my arms beneath it.

“Miss Angela will be excited to see you’re awake.” She seems to finally register my frustration, and reaches forward to help free my arms from the restrictive covering.

Angela, why does that name have a ring of familiarity?

She is touching me entirely too much. I detest being touched. What is wrong with this dullard of a woman who speaks so brazenly and has no respect for personal space? She may know my name, but she clearly doesn’t know who I am.

I will teach her.

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