Epic wierdness today. It started when I was rushing to start dinner before Sean brought the kids home from school. The knife slipped and like a moron I tried to catch it. (Note to self: next time the knife slips, just get out of the freaking way.) I fumbled it like nobody’s business and the handle bounced off my fingertips and landed point first on my forearm. Despite the cut not appearing deep, the blood flowed and flowed.
Dinner would have to wait until I got this thing stitched up. I wrapped it up in gauze as tight as I could, then grabbed my purse and keys. The urgent care clinic was only a five-minute drive, but the wait was over an hour. The waiting room was clogged with pasty feverish kids and moms, and this horrible moaning came from the curtained off area. They finally took me, but the nurse looked frazzled, her hands shaking as she unwrapped my injury. She stared at the blood then up at me. She didn’t seem to believe my knife juggling story, but what can I say? She resigned herself to the task and started gathering needle and thread when a commotion came from beyond my blue curtain. The man who came through the curtain looked like a dead man with that grey pallor and that unseeing look in his eyes.
Terror ran up my spine at the way he moaned. How was he walking around in such pain? Was he on drugs? He reached for my nurse who screamed. He lifted her off her stool and–I dont’ know what he intended, but I just acted. I kicked her stool at him, the knee high chair crashing into his legs with little effect. That’s when the security guards came in, guns raised. I’ve shot a gun, back in my college days and I knew I was too close to this guy. I grabbed the nurse’s arm and yanked her with me as I started for the other side of the room.
Three shots went off. Blood showered over us–that and something dark and gelatinous. I’m really grossed out.
I slipped away while someone helped that nurse calm down. I don’t think I’m going back to that clinic. The gauze will do, I wrapped it up tight after a scalding shower. I can’t get the icky feeling off.
Sean took the kids out for pizza and ice cream, so maybe I’ll lie down for a bit. I’m still a little shaky and my head feels hot. I’ll check in with you all tomorrow.
THIS FICTION BROUGHT TO YOU BY ERIN UNDERWOOD’S Z-SQUAD
Tune in tomorrow to see if this writer survives the apocalypse…