Noah's sleep was poor, but long lasting. He slept past noon, past supper and sundown, as he kept falling further and further into sickness. His heart beat erratically. He gasped for breath. His eyes had turned puffy, his hands and feet had started to swell, and nausea hit him in waves so intense he moaned mid-sleep, absentmindedly clutching at his stomach.
Sam was long gone by the time he'd finally woken up. He stood, immediately overcome with dizziness, and vomited. He caught himself against the far wall, panting, struggling to breathe, struggling to see through his red, puffy eyes.
What the-
he thought,
what's the matter with me?
It wasn't just a hangover. He'd been far more fucked up than he'd been the night before, and still went on to put in an eight hour shift. His chest felt like it was floating, or hollow. His head was ringing, and every movement felt alien. If the waves of intense pain hadn't been so intense, he wouldn't have been altogether convinced he was still inside his body.
He didn't realize a day had come and gone at first. He saw the dark skies through the window, as he peered out past his pale, shaky hands. He was sweating so much his eyes were blurry and his cheeks felt cold, and trembled.
When he tried to walk his arms felt like they were leashed to the wall. Gravity felt heavier than normal, like an elephant was taking a piggy-back ride on his shoulders.
His head was pounding. Everything was loud- impossibly loud.
Was it just the sweat? A sickness? Or is my blood pressure so high my eyes are about to pop right out of my skull?
The phone rang as suddenly as an atomic blast. The migraine was instant.
Noah fell forward, clutching at his eyes, his ears, flailing to make it SHUT UP!
The carpet slid out from underneath him. He fell forward, and flung violently. Something was loud, like a bomb right next his eardrums, AND THAT FUCKING PHONE KEPT RINGING-
The phone stopped all at once. Along with the ringing, the pain, for a moment there was silence. Noah lay on the floor, sprawled out, his arms out in front of him. He squinted, and took deep, heavy breaths.
A ceiling panel crashed suddenly, first one chunk, then another. The metal drop ceiling grid was warped, and twisted, still rocking back and forth. Where a wall had been, there was nothing but open air, a cold night sky, and car alarm blaring.
He tried to stand up. His hand slipped across the dusty, cracked floor, and the headache came back all at once. He was dizzy. He was overwhelmed with anger, then ready to vomit. It felt like all his blood had gathered in his head and was desperate for another- violent release.
Another ceiling panel fell. The far wall twisted again, and another group of bricks fell out into the lawn.
Then the phone rang. He turned and flailed his arms. Something shot out, some raw, dark energy that cracked like a whip and tore through the walls- but that phone just kept ringing.
He forced himself to stand.
It's a dream
, he told himself,
It has to be. It's a stupid one- an nonsensical one- you're just sick, or hungover, or-
"Noah," a cold voice said. The phone had given way to an answering machine, and an older woman's voice he'd never heard before had started speaking.
"I'm going to call you again," she said carefully, "I won't call a fourth time, and unless you want the police to swarm your house- I'd suggest you answer-"
The message barely clicked one final time before the phone screamed again. Impossibly loud.
Noah kicked and stammered. He rolled his way across the floor, and clawed his way up the tottering nightstand. He swiped aimlessly, knocking it over. When it was next to his ears, it was like an air raid siren.
"WHAT-" He finally yelled, his word a half-formed bark, "WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?"
The line was silent for a long, terrible moment. He was breathing heavily, his clothes torn, his hands so sweaty he was sliding back down to his knees.
"There was a girl there last night, wasn't there?" the voice said calmly.
Noah gave no answer, but the woman didn't need one.
"There was," she said, "And she slept with you, because if she didn't, that virus, or whatever it is, would have swallowed her whole, grown so strong it eventually killed her. Getting rid of it was her only option."
"No," Noah shook his head, "No, no, Sam and I had been talking for months-"
"And had you ever defined it?" the voice asked, "Swore you were both exclusive?"
"She liked me," Noah tried, "She wouldn't do this to me, if she knew-"
"She came to you, desperate last night, begging for sex," the voice said, "Tell me, has that ever happened to a guy like you before? Do women throw themselves at you in the middle of the night?"
"No," Noah thought,
well, not except for Lo-
His head was still roaring, his thoughts at war with each other, like a hundred fires, all lashing against each other, none finding stable footing, "What do I do?"
"Get rid of it," the woman said, "Before it kills you. I've got a lab, I think I could remove it, get rid of it safely-"
Noah's head was whipping around like a pigeon, darting like he was looking for predators as he stared at the sudden destruction, and listened to the distant sirens that'd wake people up, bring onlookers-
"How long?" He barked, "How long before it kills me?"
For once the woman wasn't ready. The line was silent again, painfully silent.
"You said it's gonna kill me god-damnit, how long do I have?"
