DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete First Book

PART 7, SECTION 13

I didn't blame Chris for worrying that I might be infected. If he was going to be holed up with me way out there in the ruins for who knew how long, he had the right to know what he was getting into. He also needed to know if he'd need to start me on the antibiotic cocktail.

"Yes," I said simply. "I slept with him. But I didn't let him... You know. I don't think I let anything get inside me." 

Chris nodded. He didn't look up from my feet. He opened a plastic bandage and pressed it over one of the larger cuts.

"I know I can't know for sure," I added. I was trying to sound brave, or at least detached and clinical about the possibility of my being sick. "But I guess I'll just have to wait. It's been two days since then."

Chris nodded again. "How do you feel?"

"Well, I'm not dead yet." I tried to laugh. "I feel pretty good. Great actually."

It was true. Ever since the firefight with the Home Guard, I wasn't even feeling foggy from the sedative hangover.

"That's good." Chris patted my foot. He'd finished cleaning out the cuts. He set my feet back down onto the floor. "Most people die within twenty-four hours of becoming infected. Some have lasted as many as three days, but it's rare. Never longer than that, though."

I nodded. "Okay," I said. "Good to know."

I'd been hoping Chris was going to tell me I was out of the clear after two days, but I'd just have to wait another twenty-four hours before I could know for sure that I wasn't infected.

Chris asked, "Do you still have that Insta-Read test I gave you at the pharmacy?"

It was still in the pocket of the scrubs I was wearing.

"Yeah," I answered. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Why don't you maybe go test yourself?" 

"I don't want to waste it," I said. "I'll know I'm negative if I last another day anyway, won't I? We might need it later. It's our only one. And, honestly, I don't even feel sick at all."

"You'd be better off knowing for sure, though. Right? Just in case?"

I thought about this, but I shook my head. "No. Really," I said. "By this point it's unlikely I'm sick. And if I am, there's nothing I can do about it. Besides, we might need the Insta-Read later if we need to find out if one of the refugees has progressed to the next stage."

"It's up to you," Chris said.

He went back to filling the pill capsules, and he didn't press me any further. I was pretty sure that after two days I wasn't infected, but if Chris was concerned, I couldn't help worrying a little. . .

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