DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete Second Book

PART 10, SECTION 13

"I'm smiling because you both had sex with a TGV positive after your TGVx infection!" Chris said.

It was weird to be talking about my sex life and my parents' at the same time, but I let it go. "Okay? So?"

"So?! So you both STILL HAVE TGVx and not a trace of TGV! That means that your TGVx parasites must have fought off the TGV infections." Chris grabbed a needle and an empty blood-collection vial. "Watch this."

He slid the needle into my arm. 

"Ow! Asshole!" I winced.

"Chill. You won't be sorry."

A pale, golden honey dripped from the needle into the vial. Chris put a drop of my honey-blood on a new slide, then he slid it under the microscope's lens.

"Have a look."

I peered into the microscope. Countless tiny parasites danced to their own silent rhythm in a sea of honey.

"See all those little guys? They're your TGVx," Chris explained.

Now he grabbed a vial of blood marked D BOTTORFF. He dabbed a drop onto the slide, mixing my blood with Doug Bottorff's.

"Watch," he said.

I peered again into the microscope.

At first all I could see were the same tiny TGVx parasites. Then, a huge, pale parasite, ringed with what looked like thorns or bristly hairs, pulsed into view.

"Those big ones are Doug Bottorff's TGV. See them?"

"Yeah. Gross."

"Alright," Chris said. "Now watch. Tell me what's happening."

Under the microscope, my tiny TGVx parasites started to swarm around Doug's large TGV parasite. They were attacking it. It pulsated, trying to free itself from the swarm, but there were too many. The TGVx parasites were eating it alive. After just a moment, it stopped moving.

It was obviously dead. The TGVx's had killed it.

"Oh my God," I said.

Chris smiled and shook his head triumphantly. "We might not even need antibiotics."

Finally, I understood why Chris was smiling.

I rifled through his medical supplies until I found a fresh syringe. I tore the packaging off, then I jammed the needle into my arm.

I pulled back the syringe's plunger, drawing a hefty dose of my honey-blood into the reservoir.

I jerked the needle out of my arm.

"Let's hurry," I said.

Holding the syringe aloft, I raced out the door toward Doug Bottorff's makeshift jail cell.

"Ashley, wait!" Chris called. "You'll need help!"

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