I felt like shit. It felt like someone had taken my brain out of my head and given it a good beating. It was almost like withdrawal sickness, but without the cravings.
Sophia looked over at me and smiled, but I was too busy feeling sick to smile back. I was pretty sure if I opened my mouth at that point, I'd have puked up what little I'd eaten. By this point, I'd sort of given in to feeling like crap and had slumped in my chair. I'd totally lost the willpower to stay upright.
Sophia rushed back into view, a worried look on her face, apparently alarmed by my sudden inability to sit properly.
"What have you eaten other than the cake?" she asked.
"Nothing," I replied. I couldn't remember the last time I ate before that. I couldn't remember much of anything. Wordlessly, she started to untie me, letting the packing straps fall to the floor as she helped me over to a sofa. I flopped down on it, complaining about how it felt like someone had trodden on my brain. It didn't quite feel like that anymore, but at the time it was the only way I could think to describe it. If I thought too hard, it hurt more. Like someone was using my head as a stress ball.
"If it makes you feel better I don't think it's the virus. How long ago did you stop with the drugs?"
"I dunno. A few weeks after the world went to shit. Are you sure untying me was a good idea?" I mean, I didn't feel like I was gonna turn into a zombie. I felt disgusting and sick and like my body was going to fall apart, but it wasn't anything new, really. But then maybe that's how everyone felt before they turned? I didn't know.
She nodded, "why? Thinking of trying to eat me?" There was a faint attempt at a smile on her lips, and I managed to return it with a feeble laugh.
"No, not yet."
"I think you're ok. When was the last time you had something to drink?"
"Last night?" Sophia got up and filled a glass with lukewarm water for me, telling me to drink it before turning back to my blood samples again. That tell tale look of worry was still etched in her face. I drank it all, surprised by how thirsty I really was, before sprawling back on the sofa. I watched as she sped off downstairs, leaving me alone where I was. I didn't move a fucking muscle. Maybe I should've been worried or curious or something, but I really wanted to sleep.
A few minutes later, she reappeared, laughing a little. There was a box of pills in her hand. "It's a basic infection; it was hidden by the virus but once the chemicals had cleared that I could see it. I still want to keep an eye on you for the next few days but I think it worked."
I wasn't entirely convinced. I didn't want to be getting my hopes up and then suddenly end up a zombie. "It came on way too quickly for that."
"It could have been in your blood system for a while, from anything. The only reason I want to keep an eye on you is to be sure that the virus doesn't mutate." I let out a groan, curling up.
"I'll take your word for it."
Sophia hesitated a little before sliding her hand into mine, her fingers slotting neatly into the gaps as she squeezed gently. "Just take two of the pills and get some sleep, you should feel better when you wake up," she told me with a smile. I returned the grip, finding some sort of comfort in the contact. It was... nice, I guess. That might've just been because I'd been pumped full of zombie blood, though, and y'know, doing something like that without any kind of comfort is fucking scary, despite the poker face I'd thrown up.
I dry swallowed the pills and pulled the throw back over me, sort of missing her touch as she moved away to sit by the window. I don't think I slept for very long. It was still light when I woke up. Sophia's eyes were on me, and I'm pretty sure she'd been watching me for a while.
"Never let me agree to do that again," I croaked
"Hmm? Oh sorry. Don't worry you won't need to," she told me, snapping out of her daydream.
"Good news?" I asked, sitting up.