Nightshift 62: Doctor's Office 1

[savagestray]

[From here]

Heine landed hard on his shoulder, cursing in a quiet growl as he willed the room to stop spinning.  It was too dark to see much of anything, at least until Allelujah got his footing and started shining that flashlight around.  He tried to push himself up and got to one knee, but crashing into the door hadn't done his mysterious illness any favors.  His red eyes darted about the room for any kind of movement, but the shadows seemed to blend into one another.

The air had a strange scent about it; musty and old he might've expected, but this was something else, something that made him wary.  As his eyes adjusted to the light though, there was little to be said about the room.  It was plain, almost to the point of suspicion; sparse furniture, a desk, nothing out of place or messy.  He took another slow breath and almost immediately regretted it.  The nauseated feeling was back and in full force and it was just a moment later that the very clean polished desk was in need of a good scrubbing. 

Heine wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, barely concealing an irritated grimace.  If he'd felt like shit before, what was lower than shit? 

Comments

[tender_cruelty]

The door gave, sending them both stumbling forward and it shouldn't have been a problem for Allelujah; he was used to not knowing which was was up and which was down, but tonight the world span and left him reeling. At least he didn't trip up and fall like Heine did. Was this really how normal humans were all the time? How did they survive?

He caught his balance and raised the torch, shining it around the room. It was rather plain and didn't seem like it would have what they were looking for but it was worth a try.

He grimaced when Heine threw up, turning away to give him a modicum of privacy. "I take it back," he said with a small smirk. "I don't ever want to be a normal human again."

[savagestray]

If this was how normal humans were supposed to feel, even if it was just once in a while, Heine grudgingly admitted that Badou might have some small right to whine here and there. Not that the words would ever be given voice. He leaned a little on the desk, until he could steady himself, but the dizzy feeling didn't seem to want to leave. The nausea he could deal with, but the sudden lurches that the ground seemed to make were getting really fucking annoying.

He took a few steps around the room, skirting the desk to pull out drawers, even if he was fairly sure that anyone who kept a room this tidy probably didn't have bad habits. At least, not any that they let anyone know about.

Then again...

Heine backpedaled quickly when he saw part of a mangled corpse left under the desk. He pulled the chair away, letting it clatter loudly to the floor as he took in the sight. It was dead, wasn't it? It wasn't until he heard the labored and rattling sound of breathing that he froze, watching the slow rise and fall that meant whatever the mutilated thing was, it was still alive.

He took a step closer, wishing he had his gun so he could put whatever it was out of its misery. Just like this place to leave people to suffer and die slowly in a miserable heap. It wasn't until he crouched to look closer that he realized what was so familiar about it, what he recognized in that pile of dying humanity that made his stomach twist painfully and his head start pounding.

Feathers.