Iggy leaned forward onto his knees and gripped his hand around the man's fist. Beneath the tape, the man screamed, but the air just spread out through his nose, noiselessly. He held the arm in his palms and stared at the bulging veins under his skin and over his muscles. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, biting into him. While the blood coursed into him like a magnetic force, the ecstasy brought tears to his eyes, and he moaned around it.
After a few short moments, the doctor said, "that's enough. Stop."
But, it hadn't been enough. Iggy drank still, ignoring the demands to stop. He was close to becoming satisfied when the pressure of a beating stick whacked him right on the top of his head. He unlatched his jaw and scattered back to the furthest corner with his arms crossed over his chest. He swallowed whatever was left in his mouth and covered his lips with his palm.
Robert harnessed the man's arm back into the restraint. Blood poured out of his arm still, so much so that his life was hanging in the balance. The doctor hovered over his subject. "Dammit," he cursed. "He doesn't have enough blood to make any sort of transformation!" He glared into the cell at Iggy. His balled fist jerked back and forth between him and the cell as if he was truly wishing that he could hit him himself. "You bastard!" he crowed. His foot made one large sweep and crashed against the metal bars. "You didn't stop! This whole trip was a waste!"
His raging glare turned onto Robert, who was standing next to the gurney. Robert's eyes were slightly larger, yet the look of any emotion, other than calm, was well hidden.
"Robert, decapitate him and leave his body with the others for cremation. There's no use in holding him down here. He's just a waste of space." His hands waved away from his shoulders and down to his thighs in frustration. He stomped toward the door, passing the gurney all together as if the infected man lying on top had already been forgotten.
Robert stepped forward, holding his hand out for the doctor to stop. "What about this guy? Aren't you taking him with you?"
"What's the point?" the doctor snarled over his shoulder. "I don't feel like doing an autopsy, and this guy is going to die. If I take him with me, he becomes my responsibility, but since he's already here, he's your responsibility. So, get rid of him. Get rid of all of them. This place stinks." He threw the main door open and marched out.
Jay took a large sweep of the hallway and all of the cells. His expression was dull and long, then he shrugged and leaned toward the door. "Night shift, eh?" After a chuckle and a bite of candy, he waddled out of the hallway, leaving Robert standing alone next to the gurney.
Amidst it all, infection was happening very quickly for the man. It was clear to everyone there. His limbs rattled viciously within their restraints as if he were being electrocuted. His skull pulled up and slammed back against the mattress with a force strong enough to crack him if he were hitting a harder surface. His face fell to the side, and pink frothy foam oozed out of the corner of his mouth beneath the tape, yet there was so much of it that it couldn't all come out. He gurgled, fighting it back out of his airways as much as possible without success. The wound on his arm discolored into a yellowish green with the exception of a beige pus that trickled out of the holes. It was horrid in every sense.
Iggy cowered behind his hands and shielded his face with his greasy hair. He found the process horrific, more so than Robert.
Robert was used to seeing this. He was calm, yet disturbed all at once. He exhaled through his nose and peered down at the convulsing man's face. "Better him than me," he mumbled under his breath. His shoulders let down along his sides and he clutched the end of the gurney. He pushed the gurney away from Iggy's cell and into the cell next to the dead woman's.
Although Iggy couldn't see the man anymore, he could still hear the rustling and gurgling coming from him. He felt disgusted, and if he thought about it much harder, he could have thrown up everything that he had drank. When Robert passed by his cell, they made brief eye contact, but Iggy was so ashamed of himself that he hid his bright eyes beneath his hands. "Robert?" he shuddered.
Robert responded in a tone that didn't have a hint of anger or maliciousness, but instead tiredness. "What is it, kid?"
Iggy swallowed hard, refusing the screams that were fighting their way out. "I can't live like this…" He clutched his hair in between his fingers. "I'm infectious. They're all right, I need to die."
Robert leaned forward in his chair and looked directly at him. "Don't be sorry," he said.
Iggy lifted his chin. The edges of his eyes were light, but sharp from distress. "How can't I be? Can't you see what I've done? No one should have to go through that!"
Robert shook his head, patiently. "Everyone here is some sort of monster," he said. "Sorry about that hit by the way." He rubbed the top of his head. "I had to play a part."
Iggy wiped his eyes. "I wish you would have hit me harder. I deserve to die, really."
"Oh, there are worse things out there than you." Robert waved his hand through the air as if to disperse an unpleasant smell. "To be honest, you're well put together considering what you told me about yourself."
Iggy's voice became shrill. "Why did he make me do that?"
"He was trying to cheat. They're supposed to get their 'specimens' from the streets. He said so himself, though. He has a 'soft spot for you. You're special.'"
Iggy lowered his head so low that all he could see was the dark concrete floor beneath him. "If you are waiting for the chance to take me out for yourself, just do it." His hands began trembling. "I can't be a part of this anymore. I can't… I won't even move. Just take my head off-"
"-I won't do that to you."
Iggy lifted up the bottom edge of his shirt. The medicine patch was stuck onto him tight, but given enough pull, he could peel it off himself. "Then… I will."
"Wait." Robert stood to his feet and laid one hand over the bars. "I want to tell you something that I don't think you know, yet."
Iggy looked up at him, surprised. "What difference does it make? I'm going to die here."
"Have you seen what your bite does before?" Robert asked.
Iggy's hand fell away from the medicine patch and he looked down. "Yes… but not like this."
"After people are bitten by the infected and given a little bit of time, they turn into Cannibals. They can't infect others, but what makes them so awful is that they're violent. Extremely violent. I've seen them tear people into shreds and bathe in their blood before.
"If you really are as young as you say you are, which I do believe, then you don't remember the time when there were Cannibals loose on the streets. It was so bad that normal folk couldn't protect themselves, so communities were made. The high walls still weren't enough, so normal folk asked infected people with smarts, like you, to protect them." He glanced up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes. "The doctors and officers up there want to get rid of everyone who is infected, but their curiosity keeps them from just killing everyone. Their experiments have no ends. No legitimate goals." His head nodded to the side. "This guy is going to die soon. That's when I'm going to clean out the cells. They'll be expecting four bodies on that gurney."