“They need rest, Lionel,” Karim says, placing one hand against the wall next to the door and leaning his weight against it. “Other than that, we’re leaving first thing in the morning, so all of you need to curb your excitement.”
Lionel’s shoulders droop, but he seems more placated than discouraged. “Yeah, I got you. I won’t be bothering you too much, Sira, I swear.”
Sira doesn’t know what to say other than to give him a small nod. They don’t have the energy to come up with anything else.
Lionel steps to the side, giving Sira room to enter. Dim, warm light from sconces on the walls casts faint shadows of the beds’ metal bars. Rani lies on one of them, also dressed down. A book sits nestled between her fingers. Next to her is Therese, having scooted another bed against Rani’s with one hand tangled in hers. Her eyes are shut, and her shoulders gently rise and fall with slow, steady breath. Asleep.
A tall figure sits on one of the beds in the back of the room – Mikael. Several dark shapes are set out on the bed next to his that substitutes for a table – the parts of a gun. He’s stripped to a form-fitting black tank top but wears the same combat boots and trousers as the others have on. His gaze looks like it’s been on the door as soon as it opened, while Rani sits up a little as Sira walks in.
All the attention being back on them makes Sira want to shrink into themselves, but the sensation is dulled by the fatigue that weighs down their thoughts.
Karim remains outside with his head peeking past the threshold. “Think you got it from here?”
“Yes,” Sira responds. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He gives the two-fingered salute from where his forearm presses against the doorframe. “Behave while I’m gone. I’ll be seeing all of you in the morning.”
Karim disappears. Lionel quietly closes the door behind him. His gaze rapidly shifts between Sira, Rani, Mikael, and the floor, as if he expects something to happen. There’s a long moment of silence and stillness before Rani sits herself up properly.
“Are you alright?” Her voice is soft. Genuine. “I didn’t expect the captain to stick you with us tonight, honestly. I thought they might keep you in the infirmary.”
“I’m okay,” Sira answers quickly. “Need a shower.”
Rani points to a door on the outcropping of wall next to them. “There’s one in there. You can use my towel if you want – it’s red. We all share the same shampoo and stuff in some big bottles so there should be plenty for you.”
Another small nod, and then they turn to the bathroom door. They waste no time in putting a barrier between themself and the others’ stares. Rani says something to one of them after the door is shut, but it’s too muffled for Sira to make out what it is.
The shower bath takes up most of the space while the sink and mirror are of much more accommodating size than what was in the clinic, making things tight. Three towels hang on a bar affixed to the door, one of them a dark red color. The space is relatively clean – a few stains on the walls here and there that look far too old and faded to be a problem, but nothing else of note. Not spotless, but it doesn’t feel gross.
Sira eyes the tub. It feels almost mocking; the idea of sinking their aching body into a warm bath and staying there until their fingers start to wrinkle sounds like heaven, but it would take too much time. Time that would be better for sleeping. They don’t want to risk that warm comfort lulling them into sleep while they’re still inside the water.
Instead, they settle for twisting the shower knob to the hottest setting and get undressed. They fix their gaze on the rain of steaming water as a way of avoiding both the mirror and looking down at themself. Things from that angle without any clothes to hide the details might dig a deeper pit of dread in their stomach than their reflection did. Sira mentally thanks Karim for picking out a shirt and pants that can simply be pulled off. No buttons or zippers to worry about that could require visual focus.
They glance over the clutter of toiletries on both sides of the sink. There are more bottles and tubes spread about than they expected and Sira can pick out the largest ones of the bunch that Rani was referring to. However, the weariness in their body makes them decide against it. Sure, they wouldn’t feel squeaky clean, but the image of the beds in the room beyond is too tempting to spend much time on this.
Sira reaches into the shower again – careful not to scald themself on the water – and turns the temperature down a notch. They take a second to remove the bandage over the needle site, which they also avoid looking at, and place it on a relatively clean spot on the sink. They step into the stream and close the curtain behind them.
The water is still hot, but pleasantly so. A sigh escapes their lips. Colder water wouldn’t make them feel nearly as clean, although that might just be psychological.
Sira carefully lowers themself to the smooth bottom of the shower tub, curls their legs to their chest, and rests their forehead against their knees as the water runs over them. The rising steam and weight being taken off their legs has their muscles singing their praises. After this, there’s a bed waiting for them and hopefully, sleep. Sira isn’t sure what time of night it is, but they hope there isn’t only a few hours before daybreak.
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But none of this is close to being over, they remind themself.
A red fog has blanketed the world. It carries a disease with it. That disease turns people into hideous monsters that infest the earth and who apparently grant a fate worse than death to those they catch.
Except for me.
Sira thinks to what Karim talked about back in the clinic, and how today probably won’t be the last time a doctor or someone else will stick a needle in their arm. No matter how he tried to explain it, it still sounds like they’ll get the ‘test subject’ treatment. The thought alone makes them feel cold, despite the hot water running down them in rivulets. So far, Sira hasn’t seen anything from this organization to make them think it’s going to be cushy.
But they saw how they looked in the mirror. They remember the phantom giving chase with perfect enough clarity that simply thinking about it makes their heart skip a beat. They’re a frail person without any memory, who needs food, water, shelter, and rest. Sira doubts there aren’t plenty of bad parties who could’ve taken advantage of someone in a situation like that, in ways that are far worse than having needles stuck in them.
Besides, the ‘immunity’ would be a difficult thing to keep hidden. Sira can tell the reason why Karim and the others are trying to keep it a secret: that information is far too jarring considering the present state of things.
They’ll stay. They’ll endure. Somehow. Unless the others are putting on a good show, it doesn’t seem like anyone here has malicious intent or wants to hurt them. Even if the pain might still happen anyway. They look past their bruised knees and watch streaks of brown and gray trail through the water and down into the drain. Dirt and mud. Watching it all go down takes more tension out of their shoulders.
There’s some dark red as well, but Sira assumes that’s left over from the moment where Mikael blasted that phantom’s head to pieces in such close proximity. Some parts of their skin sting in response to the water’s heat, but it’s more like the sting of mild scrapes than anything that’s fully raw or open. Remembering the needle site, they lightly trace their fingers over the spot on their arm it went in. It’s sore, but not bleeding much.
Sira braces themself with the edge of the tub and the tile wall to get to a standing position. Head directly under the stream, they run a hand back through their hair and are met with its greasy texture and small chunks of stuff caught up in its strands. The hair is thick, and maybe it would be pleasantly fluffy if they used the products Rani offered them.
The color might look odd, but they don’t think they hate it.
They take a minute to continue threading their fingers through their hair, getting as much grime out as they can, and then scrub at their skin with their bare hands for anything that needs more force than just the running water.
–
Back in the room, Mikael is no longer present, though the pieces of the firearm he was messing with are still arranged on the bed where he sat. Therese remains fast asleep, but Rani has moved to sit on a bed across from Lionel. They appear to be discussing something in quiet voices before Sira comes out of the bathroom. Both of their heads turn as the door creaks open.
“…um, hey.” Sira holds their pair of boots in one hand and the dressing for the needle site in the other. It thankfully stayed dry. They notice their voice has less of an edge now, thanks to the shower, although they’re still raspy. “Lionel, you’re the one who knows about medical stuff, right?”
He perks up instantly. “Yeah?”
“I don’t mean to bother you, but could you redo this for me? The doctor said I needed to keep it on, and I don’t think I can re-tie it myself.”
“Are you kidding? That’s easy. Won’t bother me at all.”
Before Sira can say anything else, he’s on his feet and heading to their side. They stiffen as he takes the dressing from them rather unceremoniously. He presses the gauze to the spot on their arm where they had it before and starts to carefully wrap the bandage around it.
“Does it hurt?” He asks.
“Not really.”
He stands a little too close for comfort. Sira remains statuesque with their arm angled slightly outward for easier access. Either Lionel is oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation, or it isn’t that awkward and Sira is letting their nervousness get to them.
“If you move it around too much it’ll bruise and that could get worse, so you probably should take it easy on that arm,” he says as he finishes tying the bandage. “I saw the steam coming out of the bathroom, too. Hot showers after giving blood usually aren’t the best idea. Aren’t you dizzy?”
Sira notices they are a little lightheaded, but it’s impossible to tell whether it’s new or just an extension of what they’ve been feeling on and off since they woke up. “It’s hard to say. I didn’t feel like I was going to fall over while I was in there or anything like that.”
“I could run and grab something for you from the mess if you want. Important to get fluids in and all that.” Lionel ensures the dressing is secure, then finally steps back.
As soon as he does so, Sira ventures a glance at him. The energy he has is…a lot right now. “I’ll be okay, but thanks.”
“Gotcha.” There isn’t a trace of disappointment in his face or voice this time.
Sira expects more questioning, but instead, Lionel turns himself around and returns to the bed he’d been sitting on. Rani, however, has since stood up with a small smile on her face.
“You look much better,” she comments.
“Um…thanks.” They rub their arm sheepishly. She could just be saying that to be nice. All they did was get some of the dirt off, but it’s not as if they’ll go back to the mirror to confirm it. Rani only makes a small sound in acknowledgment as she returns to the bed next to Therese and rests her head back against the pillow.
Sira scans the room once more. The bed in the furthest corner of the room has nothing laid out near it, so they assume it’s free, although it’s the one across from Mikael’s. Oh well.
They quietly walk to the bed, set the boots down at its end, and climb in. They turn their back to the rest of the room to face the wall. There’s a thin blanket folded at the end of the mattress, but Sira opts to go without it since the shower left them feeling warm.
As they lie there, Sira takes notice of the remaining tension in their body and tries pushing it out with an exhale. Their weight sinks into the mattress, despite it not being a thick one, and sleep pulls them down like a current.
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