Waiting by Erin Dennington ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 66 Bill thought that, given the circumstances, he had every right to be freaking out. And yet he was extremely level headed and collected and didn't feel scared until he felt something, a faint touch, on the back of his hand. Then he screamed. His mind pictured a sentient insect crawling up his body, ready to kill him, and, once in his head, the image would not let go. Once he let loose with a blood-curdling yell, so did others in the room. He couldn't tell who had screamed by the sounds they made, so he had no idea where anyone else was in relation to where he was standing. The tickling sensation that he felt on his hand suddenly moved to his arm and he knew that there must be insects in the room, crawling all over him. He had never been one for insects, even as a young boy, and the movie that they'd watched had grossed him out enough that he had found himself closing his eyes many times. But his mind refused to let him forget the magnified images, and he imagined where the microchip was buried, picturing this bug suddenly stopping and then biting. The times he'd imagined which death would be the worst, he had always thought that dying of a heat -- or fire -- related injury would be the worst. You would feel your skin burning, smell yourself being cooked as the Devil's dinner, and you'd be in constant agony, unable to get comfortable. He had never considered an insect bite as the way in which he'd die, but now that thought seemed inescapable and utterly real. He'd never been as terrified in his life as he was right now. He didn't know, couldn't imagine, how Stella was handling this; she was younger than the rest of them, and he feared that she might be pretty freaked out right about now. He found himself surprised with the fact that his first thought was for Stella and not for Davis, who must be feeling pretty damn crummy in this ordeal. And then he berated himself; Stella was probably the most levelheaded person in the whole bunch of them. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders from what he could tell. His thoughts about the beautiful teenager were abruptly shattered when he returned his attention to his immediate surroundings. The sensation on his arm continued and was suddenly joined by other sensations all over his body. They were minute; if he wasn't already hypersensitive, he doubted that he'd even feel a thing. He lost track of how many were climbing over his skin, scouting around for the perfect place to kill him. But he was well aware that they were there and that they were not harmless. He had always scoffed at those who believed that they would know the exact moment in which they'd die. He used to believe that there as no possible way that anyone could know that fact. Striking wildly, he tried to shoo away the insects, to scare them away. He felt one stop its climbing motion in the middle of his wrist. Then he felt a tiny piercing bite and a sweeping, sudden, absence of feeling in his arm that radiated out from the wound. That's when he knew that he was going to die. 13:03 - 11.22.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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