#barely human

Connie felt that she was just one puzzle piece away from finding the solution. All of the deaths and trauma caused by those monsters would finally cease, and the island would be itself again. Nox scientists could be scientists, Nox hunters could be hunters, Nox victims could be…well, not victims.

Connie closed her laptop when she finished up her last note, yawning deeply and rising from her office chair to get ready for bed. A full day of research could really tire someone out.

She made her way up to her bathroom, washed her face, and put pajamas on. Connie started pulling her long, black hair out of the messy bun she wore when—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Connie jumped at the noise, almost screaming. That noise…that was the emergency tone. She checked her phone: it was 12:30 in the morning, who would be needing her so late?

She rushed to the small, silver communication device that was beeping loudly and violently on her work desk. She picked it up and pressed “answer”, effectively stopping the beeping.

Connie yawned. “Hey, who is th—”

“CONNIE!”

The scientist yelped and almost dropped the device. But she recognized that voice (of course she recognized it, she fantasized about it every day): it was Micah.

“O-Oh, Micah, hey, what’s—”

“C-Connie, are you—fuck, he’s BLEEDING, oh god—Connie a-are you free?”

Micah Saunders was the leader of the 3rd Nox Hunter team. He was confident, friendly, headstrong, and the most brilliant team leader Connie had ever met.

So it sent chills up her spine to hear such raw fear in his voice.

“Yes, I’m…I’m free, what do you—”

“C-Cameron, he’s…oh god…” Micah’s voice was muffled, as if his hand was covering his mouth. “A Nox, he got…he got bitten, Connie, he’s turning.”

“Oh, o-oh shit. Come here right away, I-I’ll get a room ready.” Connie started rushing down to her lab.

The call ended before she made it down the stairs to her laboratory. Connie hastily gathered the essentials for this kind of situation: a few syringes, leather restraints, and a beaker of light purple liquid: the serum that she herself had created.

Connie panted and waited down in her lab for the doorbell. She looked around her and sighed. “Cameron,” she whispered out loud. Cameron. Why was it always Cameron?

Cameron, the rookie. Cameron, the boy who joined Team 3 only two months ago. Cameron, the only member of all of the teams to never have sedated a Nox. Cameron, the “cute little readhead” that Micah was always raving about now.

Why. Did she always. Have to hear. About. Cameron.

Of course he got bitten, inexperienced little—

The doorbell shook Connie out of her thoughts. She pulled on a dirty lab coat, rushed up the stairs, and opened the door.

“Connie, thank god!” Connie was face to face with the fearless team leader, now with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Micah rushed inside, urging the rest of his team inside.

Connie was passed by Micah, then Yvonne, then Oliver, then Russell: and in Russell’s strong arms, was Cameron.

Cameron looked horrible.

His face was coated with sweat, eyes uncontrollably leaking with tears. His hair was matted, his uniform was dirty, and pained moans left his pale lips.

But the worst thing of all was Cameron’s arm. His uniform was torn through, and on his freckled skin was a deep gash, pulsing and leaking blood that was pure black. The wound was spreading to the rest of his arm, his veins turning black and swelling to the surface of his skin.

Connie wanted to throw up.

The scientist rushed the five of them down to her laboratory and quickly strapped Cameron into an examination chair with the leather restraints. The rest of the team did whatever they could to help.

As Connie filled a syringe with her serum, Micah leaned over Cameron’s chair.

“Cam, can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, I promise, just—just stay with me, okay?” Micah’s voice rang in Connie’s ears. All of that fuss for him.

She shook her head. Don’t think about that right now, you have a job to do. The scientist strode over to the boy strapped in the chair, and without any hesitation, stabbed the pulsing wound with the needle.

Cameron’s scream was inhuman. It ripped from his throat, probably shredding it to pieces, and even Yvonne jumped back. Oliver screamed too, Russell covered his ears, and it took everything in Micah’s power not to rip Connie away from his teammate.

The syringe was finally pulled away when the serum had effectively seeped into Cameron’s wound. It stopped pulsing, and became slightly less swollen. His veins began to turn back to their normal color. Cameron took deep gasps of air, still hazy from the pain.

Connie stepped back, and turned to the rest of the team. “Um…yeah. First dose is done.” She gave them an awkward smile. She just wished they would stop looking at her like she just killed him.

Micah snapped out of whatever trance he was in and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Connie. Thank you so, so much, you’re a lifesaver.” Connie couldn’t hide the redness that formed st her cheeks, or the smile that crept onto her face. “O-Of course…”

Yvonne scoffed. “It’s her JOB, Micah, chill.” She turned to the scientist. “How long’s this gonna take?”

Connie shrunk a little at Yvonne’s harsh tone. The strong, stoic woman had always intimidated her. “Uh…probably, like, two? T-Two weeks? Maybe three.” She turned back to Cameron. “It’s…not as bad as it could be.”

“It’s late.” Russel’s deep voice filled the room. Oliver spoke up as well, wringing his hands nervously. “He’s right…our boss will get worried.”

“Then let’s go,” Yvonne snapped, turning to leave. Russel and Oliver quickly followed her up the stairs, and Micah trailed behind.

“You promise he’ll be okay?” Micah asked the scientist. Connie gave him the most reassuring smile she could.

“Promise.”

Micah returned the smile and ran up the stairs, leading his team home. Connie was alone again…no, not alone. He was still here.

Connie sighed and found her clipboard. The first dose was just given, the second would be tomorrow morning at 8, the third at 6…

Cameron’s pained whines broke Connie’s gaze from her clipboard. “C…Con…” His voice was raspy and weak, his attempt to say Connie’s name dying in a cough.

Connie put her clipboard down and walked in front of Cameron. “Do you need something?” She asked, keeping her distance even though he was tied down.

Cameron’s whole body shook. “H-Hurts…need…” Another cough. Connie tried not to roll her eyes as she sighed deeply.

“I can’t give you anything. The serum’s all you get. Sorry.”

She tried to block out Cameron’s whimpers as she packed up her supplies and headed back upstairs. “It just HAD to be him,” Connie whispered to herself before getting in bed.

She dreamed of Micah.

~

By the fourth dose, Cameron had improved. A little bit.

The wound was still gory, the pain was still intense. That wouldn’t change until about the tenth dose. But it wasn’t spreading anymore, and that’s all Connie really cared about. The world didn’t need anymore damn Noxes.

Connie made her way downstairs to deliver the fifth dose. She was irritated: she didn’t like having someone in her lab, it was her safe space. Her place to be alone with her thoughts. And now, it was occupied by the last person she wanted to think about.

Cameron let out a weak “Hey” when Connie came downstairs, which was promptly ignored. She wanted to get this stupid drug into this stupid kid and get this stupid situation done and over with.

“I’m glad you’re—” Cameron paused to cough. “—H-Here. It’s, um…it’s getting k-kinda… bad.” Silence. “How…are you?” Cameron tried again. He wanted to make conversation, to feel more like a patient and less like a test subject. But he was only ignored again as the syringe filled once more.

Connie made her way to the redhead strapped to the chair. She grimaced at his wound: the one thing keeping her from having a fairly peaceful week. Her eyes trailed up to Cameron’s: they weren’t that green, like Micah had said.

Connie’s heart fell a little when she thought about Micah. When she thought about how he constantly talked about Cameron, how he got so attached to the boy only days after meeting him when it took herself years to get close with Micah.

Connie looked at the syringe in her hand. Her finest work. The serum that had won her numerous awards, and endless praise, and that made her the one spark of hope for the island.

The serum that was being wasted on some boy.

Connie looked Cameron dead in the eye. Cameron’s eyes filled with confusion, and he laughed nervously. “Are you gonna…”

With that, Connie turned around. She strode to the trash can she kept near her work table, and opened it. Cameron strained his neck to watch her.

Their eyes met. Connie narrowed hers as she angled the tip of the syringe into the can. Cameron’s widened.

“W-What are you—”

SPLAT.

The rememants of the syringe landed in the bottom of the waste basket. Connie turned, and without a word, she placed the empty syringe on the counter with a clang and left.

Cameron’s breath quickened. He shot a look to his arm. He hadn’t lied: the wound was swelling, and leaking more than it should be. And the serum that was supposed to be in his arm was in the trash can.

“No…no, no, this can’t…” Cameron started to struggle. His stomach turned and he suppressed a gag when something began to creep out of the wound. A small, black tendril inched out, waving around before growing in length and slowly constricting around Cameron’s arm.

“Help! HELP! COME BACK, PLEASE!” Cameron cried desperately. He sobbed as more small tendrils broke their way through his skin. He was screaming at the top of his lungs for Connie, for ANYONE, to help him.

An hour passed.

Two. Three.

Seven. Eight.

An entire day.

Two days passed, and Cameron was still strapped to that chair.

Except it wasn’t exactly Cameron anymore.

Now, there was a Nox in that chair.