Chapter 4: The Infection
333 words
The silence of the penthouse was louder than the screaming pain in her face. Elena stared at the 'DECLINED' notification until the screen blurred. Her face was throbbing with a violence that made her knees buckle. The heat from the necrosis was spreading, a fever burning through her veins. She needed antibiotics. She needed help.
With zero balance and no credit, private hospitals were out. She wrapped her head in the heaviest wool scarf she could find, effectively blinding her peripheral vision, and stumbled out into the street. She walked for blocks, driven by delirium, back toward the glass-and-steel fortress of Thorne’s clinic. Maybe if she just showed him the damage, really showed him, his Hippocratic oath would kick in.
She reached the entrance, sweat drenching her gown. The same security guards were there. They didn't even speak. They just stepped forward, crossing their arms over their chests, blocking the sliding doors.
"Please," she wheezed, swaying. "I think I have sepsis. The symptoms... the fever..."
"Dr. Thorne said no trespassing," the guard grunted, casually resting his hand on his taser.
Elena turned away, the world tilting on its axis. The pavement rushed up to meet her. She hit the concrete hard, her head cracking against the curb. Passersby stepped around her, assuming she was just another addict crashing from a high. The emergency room wait times for the uninsured were legendary, but she wouldn't even make it to the queue.
Darkness swallowed her, chilly and absolute.
When she opened her eyes again, the light was yellow and dim. The smell of bleach and stale urine stung her nose. She was on a cot in a hallway, surrounded by moaning bodies. A frazzled doctor with dark circles under his eyes hovered over her, holding a scalpel.
"You're in the county charity ward," he said flatly. "Your tissue is gangrenous. We need to perform an emergency debridement immediately, or the infection will reach your brain and kill you in the next hour."
End of Chapter 4
