Page 87 of The Cannibal

It was full of people having coffee and snacks while waiting for an early lunch service. So many people—and not one noticed the dazed man sitting among them.

The Buffalo girls gathered in the corner. Among them, in a lone chair off to the side, John was breathing heavy, his coloring paler.

“John!” I shouted, pushing through and towering over him. I grabbed his face, pushed his eyelid open. “John, can you hear me?”

He swallowed thickly, a small mumble.

In all fairness, he looked tired. But his slow responses were telling me that the envenomation the day before was spreading, and his body’s attempt to break it down failed.

At this point, my skirts were thrown over my arm as I ran back to the lab. I lost my shoes along the way, my hair was coming undone, nothing about me had any motivation to remain together.

I burst through the doors of the lab again, Luka’s hand was already flexing more than it had been, but my hastiness earned a look of panic from the man.

I grabbed a syringe from the drawer and rummaged through the supplies from the blood draw.

With no hesitation, I removed the plunger and spat into the barrel as many times as I could while uncorking the bottle of the irrigation saline.

“Clench your jaw in between,” Luka said, helping me with the cork as I collected as much saliva as possible. Once it reached the first notch on the scale, I held it out to Luka as his steady hands poured the rest of the way. “Inject slowly.”

I put the plunger back in and squeezed out a small bit of fluid, running back down to the parlor as people were now exiting from all the fuss.

“Move, move!” I yelled, the bodies throwing themselves out of the way as my feet pounded against the floor. I nearly slipped on my way across the room before throwing myself to my knees in front of John.

I tugged his sleeve up and pulled away the bit of cloth he used to cover the bite.

The bite was irritated, skin inflamed from the venom reaction.

I held the needle to the skin, pushing it into the vein as steadily as I could. The plunge started at fifty milliliters, then with quiet hands it slid to forty, then thirty, then to zero.

My heart was racing faster than my mind, and I swore the colors were flourishing around me from the rush to my head.

I looked up to John, his chest rising and falling with the same labor as before.

“What did you do to him?” Rebecca came to his side.

“He was already having respiratory difficulty.” I rose to my feet. “Did none of you see he wasn’t well?”

“He blamed it on the caffeine,” Mary said sternly, but it couldn’t hide the tinge of guilt and excuse.

“What happened?” Phoebe barked from the door. She glanced from me to the others before rushing to John. “Jesus,” she breathed. “Sidney!” she shouted over her shoulder.

The tall gentleman and a couple of the staff gathered around John to help him to his feet. He was clammy, his breathing so labored it hurt my own chest.

After they left, all eyes turned to me.

It didn’t look good for me, I admit that. Disheveled, running around with needles, and my bite soon to be revealed as the cause.

My head lowered, staring at the beading of Phoebe’s skirt.

Some of my hair was pulled out of place, the pins holding my hair up had been lost somewhere on the floor. My feet were bare, shoes scattered in the hallway. And in my hand, the needle.

“My venom. There was a reaction⁠—”

“Everyone leave.” Phoebe’s voice was so direct I hardly recognized it. Typically she avoided such demands of others, always with a smile and light sensibilities. “Do you not hear me?” She raised her voice at them as she pulled at her own earlobe. “Leave! Go!” Her voice harsh as they scattered like ants.

Rebecca walked past me, her dark eyes glowering my way after saying something to Mary out of the corner of her mouth. Mary’s deep blue eyes only fluttered in my direction a single moment before entirely focusing on Rebecca.

Soon, it was only me and my dear friend.