บท 277: 36. Mad World.
Bran sighed. He had been nursing Mimi for five days, and well, she didn't sleep all the time, but she was so weak she couldn't really move. He looked at the clock. It had been another while since he had last seen her. He took another treat from the top drawer of his desk and ate it. It was a magnificent invention and, so far, a great success. Bran went into the kitchen. He made a nice bug smoothie for Mimi.
Six months ago, a chance encounter with an Australian werewolf had changed everything for Bran. The werewolf had introduced him to the world of insect food, explaining its suitability for werewolves. Now, the forest was a treasure trove of delectable larvae, beetles, and crickets, enticing the senses with their earthy aroma. The werewolf had gone back to Australia eventually, but the idea had taken hold. Bran had established an insect farm, and the wolves had become adept at hunting bugs from the wild.
Bran had noticed a remarkable improvement in his energy levels since the cricket farm had been established. Their diet had been upgraded to include a variety of bugs, from beetles to spiders. The forest of Montana provided an abundance of these tiny creatures, saving them money and allowing the wolves to be more active outside. He would not tell Samuel or Charles anything about this, as he knew his sons could be a little old-fashioned in their diets.
With Mimi, Bran had introduced a variety of bug-based treats, from smoothies to biscuits. Mimi eagerly consumed the delectable snacks, unaware of their unconventional ingredients. Bran prepared a concoction of thick fly larvae, large crickets, and black beetles in a blender, adding honey and ice for a touch of sweetness. The sound of the blender filled the room, blending the insects into a nutritious puree.
Bran's excitement grew as he expected, to share the success of Mimi's new diet with Samuel. He enjoyed a few more bug-infused biscuits, a refreshing smoothie, and a gulp of Coca-Cola. The taste of the frozen beetle added a satisfying crunch as Bran made his way to Mimi's room, humming with contentment.
I had woken up in a strange place by myself, in bed. After a while of sniffing and listening, I decided I was in Bran's Montana house. But why? I'd been here for several days now. I had no sense of timing, per se, but I knew it.
Bran put some medicine on and brought me some strange-tasting smoothies, but they were cold, so I drank them. Yes, he gave me Coca-Cola, too, but then he also gave me some biscuits. Bran said it was good for my digestion to work all the time, so he always gave me something small to eat.
I woke up again. I was cold, uncomfortable, and restless. Obviously, it's a fever. I started moving but couldn't stand on my feet and crawled along the floor to find the toilet. Eventually, I found one and made my way to the toilet to pee. I couldn't always remember which door led to the toilet when I was so damn confused and tired from the fever. I leaned on the back of the toilet. I was still so exhausted.
I thought, "I'm not in the condition to go anywhere," and I fell asleep.
Bran came into the room and was surprised when Mimi wasn't in bed. She had been crawling around on the floor a bit, but mostly just fell asleep next to the bed. He walked around for a while and then looked in the bathroom. Mimi was asleep in the toilet seat, and Bran sighed. He put his tray on the table, put his gloves on from the packet Samuel had given him, and went to wake Mimi.
I woke up to the sound of someone waking me. Bran. Bran asked me a question, and the question took a while to sink in.
He asked, " Are you done yet? Do you need to wipe?"
Yeah, now I wasn't sure how long I'd been in the bathroom. My legs felt pretty numb.
I said, "Yeah, I'm ready. I don't think I need to. I just peed."
Bran took the paper and wiped, and muttered that I hadn't just been pissed. Oh no, I thought, I had shat. Bran helped me up and tried to carry me to bed, but he had to carry me when my legs ran out of strength. They were so damn numb. But we got to bed. I was shaking with a cold and a fever running high.
He put the drip down my back and explained how Samuel had put the drip under my skin so that I couldn't reach it. Stupid. Bran first gave me an ice-cold smoothie and a couple of biscuits. The cold smoothie seemed to cool me down even more, and I was shivering twice as badly. The biscuits were the same tasteless cardboard he'd fed me before. I didn't feel up to drinking much Coca-Cola then. Bran was getting the drips ready for you while I ate. Bran put it in place and walked away.
Lying in bed without a blanket, I shivered uncontrollably, the cold air seeping into my bones. Bran, aware of my fever, had withheld the blanket to help cool my body before the medicine took effect. It was his method, always claiming it was the most effective way to aid my recovery.
But as the days passed, my strength dwindled instead of improving. The pain in my stomach resurfaced, a gnawing discomfort struggling against my weakened digestive system. The smoothie Bran had given me was anything but appetizing, the mere thought of it causing my stomach to churn.
With the breaking of the fever, my body gave in, leaving me powerless in bed, drenched in sweat. The agonizing stomach pain persisted for hours, as it always did. During it all, sleep found me, but it brought nightmares about it. Nightmares of incubi devouring me and losing Damon, Adam, or Mimosa in that tragic explosion.
I would wake intermittently, my body too feeble to even stir, my skin coated in perspiration and filth. At some point, Bran entered the room, disconnected the IV, and left without a word. Then the fever returned, and I lay in damp bedclothes. Bran had brought wet wipes, but I had exhausted them long ago.
I could barely pry my eyes open as he removed the drip, uncertain of what he was injecting into me besides the fever medicine. I trembled uncontrollably, the clammy bedding intensifying my discomfort. Confusion clouded my mind, leaving me disoriented and unable to communicate even with Damon through our mental connection.
The fever surged once more, fueling a restlessness that compelled me to drag myself to the edge of the bed. Summoning all my remaining strength, I pushed myself off the bed, dragging the sodden sheets along the floor. Determined to care for myself, I crawled into the bathroom, dampening a hand towel to at least cleanse my body slightly.
Exhaustion washed over me, forcing me to collapse onto the cold tile floor. Washing my hair was an impossible task, and all I could manage was a feeble attempt at wiping myself clean. Bran had changed the bandage at some point, but it was haphazardly secured with gauze and tape that refused to stay in place.
The previous efforts to lower my fever had rendered them damp, and they remained unchanged. Fatigue consumed me, rendering me too weak to remove the tape that Bran had wound tightly around my body when I had removed it earlier.
I found Bran was pulling me upright and trying to get me back into bed, where, miraculously, the clean bedding had arrived. No sooner had the drip come back on. I was always powerless in bed, and I didn't feel well at all. Not a drop. He kept giving me that damn smoothie, and when I had a cold, it just made it worse before the fever medicine worked; it seemed to work slower and for less time.
Somehow, I realized that this was not going the way it was supposed to. He would occasionally take a wet towel, wet it and wipe me down, add bandages and tape, but never take them all off. When I moved, I would fall down, it would hurt and something inside me would always feel, hurt, I didn't know what. Then, when I tried to move, it felt like something had torn inside me, too; I found myself bruised a bit here and there.
I slept half asleep sometimes, and I was always moving. Wet bed, the wound hurt. Bran had taped the bandage closed so that I couldn't get the stitches out, but it hurt.
The fever enveloped me in a state of absolute misery. Desperate to escape its clutches, I felt an icy chill crawl through my body, intensifying my desperation. Dizziness and nausea overwhelmed me, leaving me feeble and exhausted. But amidst the arctic cold that consumed my soul, I spotted a bathtub with a tightly sealed plug.
With trembling hands, I filled it with scalding hot water; the steam rising and filling the air with a comforting warmth. A sense of relief washed over me as I sank into the tub. Each time the water grew cold, I would drain it, replacing it with fresh, invigorating warmth. The sensation was nothing short of blissful. Drained of all energy, I succumbed to the soothing embrace of the water, drifting into a peaceful slumber.
Bran thought this would not work. He had a lot of work, phone calls, and everything. Mimi was impossible. She couldn't stay in bed at all, and for the two weeks that Bran had been in charge, well, he had got a better grip on things. Then Mimi had found a bath, and thank goodness she hadn't cooled down; she was still running a terrible fever of 49.8 degrees Celsius.
Bran carried Mimi to the bed and left her naked to cool off while he got rid of the plugs. He then put a nightgown and sheet on Mimi. Fortunately, her temperature had dropped to 46.5 degrees Celsius. He again put in a fever drop and an anesthetic drip. Mimi wouldn't wake up right away.
He now stopped giving Mimi smoothies, as she couldn't take them. He gave her some dried insect protein bars; he didn't say what they were, but she ate them nicely. The poor girl was bruised when she couldn't stand the bed. Bran hadn't been able to get anyone to come and help, and he didn't call Samuel.
The nutritional fluid had run out a week ago. Luckily, there were still other medicines. He got more dressings and took the top ones off. He now put new dressings on even though Samuel hadn't remembered to say how long the dressings were to be kept on and if he had even said anything about wound care. If Bran remembered correctly, Mimi liked to pull the stitches out, so he wrapped the tape around her body twice. So she wouldn't get her bandages off.
Bran was stressed out with so many problems. The epidemic then inflamed a lot of disputes as everyone blamed each other and demanded compensation; he then had to resolve these disputes, and then there were the usual boundary disputes, heat problems, and Mimi.
Well, he had other ways of giving himself a moment's peace at work. When Mimi got going, he went to help and broke her neck. Mimi's recovery was slow, so this stunt guaranteed almost half a day of unhindered work time. Bran hoped Samuel would be back soon. Two fucking weeks. If he'd known this, he wouldn't have agreed, not at all.
It was almost time to see what the hell the creature had done now. He'd fished it off the shelves, out of the air conditioning duct, and more than once. Well, he had learned to stop her from going. Plus, he had brought in a portable ventilation device to keep the room cool. He had taken all the thick blankets off; they were in the wash, and the fever needed to come down. But he would get this done.
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