The Pragmatic Theory

[2] rick's motherfu*king wife.

"nobody was ever interested in perfect"

"Reports of an outbreak near district have meant for road closures- so make sure you give yourselves plenty of time to get home! And don't forget to plan ahead this long weekend! It might take a little longer to get to your Independence Celebrations!"

"Would you turn that garbage off?" Clancy growled, swatting the air with a rolled-up newspaper. He cried out, sooking and pointing in the direction of the television. Fox sighed, reaching for the remote and turning it up. The New's Channel played, with images going back and forth about a virus permeating various countries. It hit New Mexico, Afghanistan and Australia first. Mass hysteria. People hurting each other. People getting sick and attacking each other. They were calling it the Red Terror. Like McCarthyism, only the reds weren't communists and instead were psychotics.  
"Why? Clancy? I really fucking like watching the news. It's insightful." Fox replied, narrowing her eyes at the elderly man. He shook his head, leaning forward with a scolding look in his eyes. "When are they going to fire you?" He asked, cursing her under his breath. 
"On Christmas." She replied, tucking a brown curl behind her ear and switching off the television. "It will be the best Christmas present I've ever gotten - never having to wipe your ass again." 
Clancy chuckled, arching his back as Fox looped an arm around his waist and helped him off of the couch. She staggered across the room with him, helping him to the bathroom. 
"I'm getting real sick of you." Clancy stated, smacking Fox gently. His voice cracking as he spoke. She eased him onto the toilet, crouching down and holding him as he peed. There she was. The epitome of her existence...crouched down in pale pink scrubs helping an old man piss. 
"I'm getting sick of me too," Fox whispered, a small smile on her face as she focused on the tile patterns of the floor. "but do I still remind you of your granddaughter?" 
Clancy smiled, moaning in pain as she helped him stand up. "Every bit of you. Curse words and all." 

Fox chuckled and began the nightly routine. Still slightly baked, helping Clancy shower, drying him and putting him to bed. She took his blood, his heart rate, gave him his meds and told him goodnight before switching off the light of the small room. Things were quiet for ten minutes - and Fox just stood there, breathing in and out. Her phone buzzed, and, standing in the middle of the flat with an elderly man snoring in the corner, she reached to pick up her phone. 

Babe...it's me...my flight got delayed. I'm gonna have to stay here a little longer. I'll let you know the plan when I know it :)

Fox sighed, switching off the phone and leaving the text message on read. You know what's great about finding out your boyfriend, an immature guitar player of an amateur band, with the emotional intelligence of a thirteen-year-old boy, is cheating on you? Being two weeks late and knowing pretty damn well that the healthy glow across your face is really a bunch of baby cooking hormones settling across your body. Too scared to take a pregnancy test...knowing already you're fucking pregnant and there's nothing you can do about the shitty cards dealt. 

God...Fox thought to herself...the world really is ending. Hers...at least. 

She sighed to herself once more before packing away her gear and leaving Clancy's flat. Fox followed the linoleum floors of the nursing home, opening up the door to Kathy's flat and knocking with her other free hand. 

"Kath, hun, it's just me, Fox. Just gonna get you cleaned up and ready to go to-" 

Before she could finish, there was a moan from the bedroom. A shriek. Like that of someone in pain. 
"Kath?" Fox called out, venturing into the flat. Fox put down her gear, the blood, the heart pressure monitor and the first aid kit, following the sound of the shrieks of pain. And she found Kath, lying down naked by the bathtub. There was blood everywhere, along with the bathtub, kitchen sink, floor and walls. 

She must have tried to take a shower by herself, slipped and fallen. Often this happened. Too often. Broken hips, broken wrists. It was a mess. 
"Fuck me." Fox cursed, crouching down to help up Kathy. She pressed her emergency help button, tied to her scrubs, and yanked up the elderly woman. Kathy only yapped in response and began flailing around. She felt cold. Eerily cold. And then she started flapping around with more energy than ever before. Fox furrowed her brows, moving to look at Kathy's face. 

"Jesus fucking christ..." Fox hissed, throwing the lady to the floor. Stoned or not...Kathy was covered in blood...and her head...half of a chunk of it was missing.  Her eyes, they were discoloured...dead...and Kathy...she was moving pretty fast for someone whose head was pretty much off. Kathy raced across the bathroom to Fox and tackled her to the ground. 
"HELP!" Fox gurgled, wrestling with the woman. Yeah...she was high...but not this high. 
And they wrestled, Kathy reaching at Fox, yapping at Fox. She was completely unresponsive. 
"It's me! It's Fox." And she tried to plead with the lady...but it just wasn't working. So Fox kicked her off, grabbed the bedpan from the shelf and held it up. 

She faced Kathy, covered in blood and scrambled head. 

"Kathy...I swear to God, come at me one more time...and...and it's fricken self-defence..." Fox began crying, scared shitless, holding out the bedpan as Kathy picked herself up off of the ground. "Come on..." Fox whispered, snot running down her nose. "Please, just...calm down. We can talk." 

But Kathy kept coming, monstrous and out of control. So Fox swung, Kathy's neck snapped back, and she fell to the floor. 

Don't get up...Dear God please don't get up. 

But she got up.