Nothing happens the way you think it would.
It wasn’t the local authorities or Feds who figured out my condition first – how could they? There’s no paper trail or scent to follow; a one-hundred proof immune human doesn’t leave any marks to let you know he’s special. Truth be told, I didn’t even think I was that special. So I couldn’t get sick – so what? That underestimation of my uniqueness, along with the apparent unlikelihood of detection lulled me into a false sense of security.
I’d been out drinking, as per usual. Drinking without getting drunk. I don’t mean sodas, I mean…well, you know. With such a maddeningly efficient circulatory system, the alcohol could barely manage to get me tipsy before being wiped from my body altogether. Cheap date, huh?
Anyway, I heard the sound of bumping and crashing before I set one foot on the apartment block stairs. I’d been burgled before – it was a crappy part of town – so I knew the drill; you burst in, you yell, they curse, they drop everything, you throw ’em out, you realise they took any cash ya had around the place, you curse, you yell, everybody wins. Not this time.
This time, the second I open the door, I see a feral woman – girl, really – on her knees, rummaging through my stash. That’s the syringes an’ whatever brown I still got lying around, kept underneath a floorboard behind a chest of drawers. She stopped and looked up with wild-eyed surprise, twitching and unkempt. She may have been startled, but this brazen broad clearly wasn’t interested in the drugs – after all, she’d found all my shit but was still diggin’ through my stuff.
I can’t tell how long we were frozen in place for, staring at each other. It felt eternal, kinda surreal too. It was me that flinched first, blurting out a, “What the hell – ” before she was on her feet an’ out the window in a flash, dropping two storeys like it was fucking nothin’, and BAM! Off running down the street like a jacked-up Olympic sprinter.
I never saw her again…but I’ve seen many like her.
Solidarity, brothers & sisters…✿