The Parasite

2: Infected

The second I woke up the next morning— my conscience pushing itself up through the haze of a dream and forcing my eyes open –
I wished I was dead.

"Good lord," I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.
My head felt like someone was bashing it with a sledge hammer, pulsing pain drumming against my skull. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, a rushing dull thumping sound that felt like it was radiating through my head. I tried to lift my head off the pillow, and opened my eyes to look around, when what felt like fire seized my temples. "Aghh," a guttural shout escaped my throat as I sank back down and clasped my hands on either side of my head. It hurt so much, but why? What the hell happened? I was barely even awake enough to know what was going on. Had I hit my head in my sleep?
I might as well have bashed it against a rock for a few hours straight, judging by the amount of throbbing pain gripping my head in a vice.
"Dad! Something's wrong with Blue," I heard Alex shout a matter of factly from outside the tent. Everyone else must have already been up. Well, at least I had gotten to sleep in. The thought didn't exactly comfort me though.
I peeked open one eye, and instantly regretted it. A searing pain assaulted the backs of my eyes, like they were being pried out of their sockets.
I groaned like an animal, before rolling onto my side curled up in the fetal position, clutching my head.
"What's wrong?" my dad asked, poking his head into the tent. I could hear the slight panic in his voice the way it faltered halfway through his sentence. Strangely his voice was horribly loud, booming in my ears. That didn't help my headache in the least. I waved one hand at him "y-yeah I'm okay just need a minute," I lied, slowly sitting up. The pounding in my head felt like it was going to make my skull burst, but I needed to get out of the tent and try to see if I could at least stand up. Try a chisel being hammered into your hippocampus, and you'd know the feeling.
"You sure?" Carter asked from just outside the tent door. I nodded, before wishing I hadn't moved so quickly. The pounding made me want to hurl, but I needed to get out of this stupid tent first. There was no way I was going to lay in a hot cramped tent in a pool of my stomach's emptied contents.
I pulled myself up to my knees and crawled blindly across the tent until I found the tent flap, and rose to my shaky feet. I stepped clumsily out of the tent, knees wobbling.
"Blue-" dad said again, the voice booming uncomfortably in my ears again. I lifted my head and forced a smile "could you get me some water please," I said dryly "I think the devil himself had a whole party in my head ."
He paused "um...o-okay,"
After a second, I heard his footsteps retreating to the trailer, leaves crunching under his big boots, before climbing up onto the metal steps. It sounded so clear, it was like I was right next to him even though he was all the way across the camp site.
"Ugh, what is that smell?" I groaned, my nose filled with an overpowering, sickly sweet scent. It made my already queasy stomach turn. I held a hand over my mouth, trying to keep the bile from rising in my throat.
"Blue it's just pancakes and syrup," Carter said, a hint of confusion in his voice. I frowned, my eyes still squeezed tightly shut and my world just a red haze of light filtering through my closed lids. "Is it spoiled? I can smell it from here," I complained, pulling my shirt up over my nose.
"No one else can smell it, honey," I heard Mom's shoes crunching the leaves and felt a slight pressure disturbance in the air as she moved closer and put her hands on my shoulders. Why did everyone think I was crazy. How could they NOT smell that awful syrup. It was like someone was holding it right under my nose.
"Let's sit down here, Blue." Mom said gently, helping me over to the creaky wooden bench. I sat down. I couldn't stand this blindness, and even if it meant I would have that hammering pain again, it was worth trying to open my eyes. I slowly cracked one eye open, and felt the harsh sunlight shining directly into it. I squinted, vision hazy as my eyes tried to refocus. "Dang," I muttered. It felt like I was staring directly into the sun. It made my guts turn and suddenly I felt my stomach heave. Sure enough, I vomited right onto the pretty, crisp red and orange November leaves. I held my sides, leaning over and just staring at my boots. A dribble of drool slid down my chin and i wiped it away, disgusted.
"Oh jeez honey," mom gasped. She sat next to me and began rubbing my back. "William hurry up with that water!" She shouted. Ouch, right in my ear. The jabbing pain inside my skull flared up again, making tears well up in my eyes. I heard the trailer door open and looked up through half-closed eyes to see a bottle of water hovering right in front of my face. I followed the hand holding it, up the arm it was attached to, and finally found my dad's face contorted in a look of deep worry. His brow was wrinkled as his eyebrows came close together "hey, take the water. You all there?" He said gently.
I let out a huff and took it shakily, before unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. It had that cheap bottled water taste, the metallic one. My stomach wrenched and I suppressed the urge to lose what was left of the contents of my stomach. "lord what happened last night," I grumbled.
"This is just getting worse, whatever it is. We need to get her to the hospital right when we get into Atlanta." mom ordered. Dad agreed, and I listened to the rapid shuffle of his boots as he went to the truck and fired up the engine. Oh lord that would be nearly three or four hours of driving before I got to see a doctor. I felt sick again just at the thought of it.
I managed to crack my eyes open again, this time more slowly. "Hey mom, can you get my hoodie from the trailer please," I begged. She stood up "of course," and hustled to retrieve it.
My guess was that somehow I had caught some wicked virus from school before we made the trip here. Diving in that freezing cold water probably hadn't helped either. Maybe my body was just overcompensating for both of those combined, and that's what caused the pupil fiasco and my current state. I probably looked like hell.
Mom returned shortly after and handed me my favorite camo hoodie. I gratefully took it and shouldered it on, pulling up the hood over my head to shield my eyes from the overbearing sunshine. "That's much better," I breathed. The pulsing migraine had eased up a little by now, but it was still bad enough to make my eyes water every few minutes and my stomach threaten to empty itself again. Maybe things could get better as the day went on.