I awoke in a hospital bed. White curtains were drawn up around me, framing me in what looked to be about a twelve-by-twelve space. White. Well-lit. Comforting, not sterile. It took me a moment, but as my memories filtered back from the haze of sleep, I remembered where I was and how I'd gotten there. The Anaheim Convention Center. The site of the local GUARD outpost.

        "You're awake." I heard a familiar voice. I looked over to see Juliana sitting in a small, gray foldout chair beside me. She had changed out of her combat gear. She was wearing a plain gray sweater, joggers, and black boots. Unlike my encounter with her back at the Kavalier Apartments, her hair was down now. Dark waves spilled around her face. "How are you feeling?"

        "I'm...okay," I said. The weight of the last couple of days had been so heavy. "W-where's Jake?" I asked. I saw flashes of his crazed, infected brother upon me, then him falling from the fire escape and into the dark streets below. I closed my eyes, a chill seizing my spine. 

        "He's up in one of the converted hospital rooms. More equipment," said Juliana, gesturing upward past the top of the curtains framing me and towards a large, arching ceiling. From my position on the bed, I could see a glimpse of a railing that belonged to a second floor far above. My bed, among many others, had been sectioned off in rows of medical spaces that stretched out across one of the convention center's many recreational halls.

        "Is he okay?" I asked.

        "We're not sure yet." Juliana said. "What happened with his brother--it really messed him up."

        I looked down at my hands. I could still hear Eric's haunting screams. Rabid. Tormented.​

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Lauuugh for meeeee!

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        "Andrew?"

        My eyes met Juliana's as I returned to the present. "Yeah?"

        "There's someone who wants to speak with you."

        "Who?"

        "One of the doctors here on staff," she explained, and that must have been said doctor's cue; before I could ask any more questions, I noticed a shadow cross behind the curtain nearest Juliana. It was drawn back and a man stepped forward into the enclosure. He was wearing a white lab coat, a collared shirt, and slacks. Thin, tall, probably in his early thirties. He had fair skin and striking reddish brown hair, which was styled very neatly over his scalp. His green eyes were shielded beyond a pair of thick-framed glasses. He was actually quite handsome, and I found myself recoiling from shyness. I grabbed for the thin sheets on my cot, as if to somehow shield myself from his view, despite the fact that I was still fully clothed, dressed in the garments that Jake had let me borrow back at the penthouse.

        "Morning," he said with a smile, which made my heart flutter a bit. He had a rich voice but with a higher register and an energy that suggested youth. He took my hand and shook it. His hands were large, strong, and soft.

        "Good morning," I said.

        "Brian Stevens," said the man.

        "Andrew. Adler."

        "Good to meet you," he said. He turned to Juliana. "Thanks, Jules. You mind if we have a moment?"

        "Not at all." She turned to me and said, "Glad you're doing okay." She nodded, then slipped past the curtain and disappeared. Brian took a seat in the same chair she had been sitting in only a moment ago. He was holding a clipboard. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his skinny knees and browsed over a few documents.

        "So, how are you holding up? I understand you've been through quite a lot," he said.

        "Um. Y-yeah. How much do you...know?" It felt strange asking him this. How much had Juliana relayed?

       "Just the main accounts. Infected girlfriend, right?" He raised a brow.

       I looked away. "Yeah," I muttered.

       "You placed the emergency call, our officers were sent out..." Brian was recounting the events to me as if he were summarizing some sort of heist plan. "Then, from what I'm gathering, you met the other civilian--Jake is his name?"

        I nodded.

        "Who--apparently--was keeping his infected brother in the apartment with him where you two were staying."

        "Y-yeah." 

        Brian shook his head. "Incredibly dangerous. You also had contact with this infected boy? The both of you?"

        Jake's screams echoed through my head again, alongside the roars of his enraged brother. I grimaced. Brian must have seen my response, because he didn't press further. Instead, he said, "It's a miracle you both cleared screening."

        Hearing that news again signaled a wave of relief to wash over me. I did remember being escorted from the armored GUARD vehicle into a small room staffed with doctors and armed guards, being connected to all sorts of machines--blood pressure, an EKG--and then the device that looked like some sort of taser, with its nodules attached to my ribs and underarms. You might feel a tickling sensation, said one of the nurses and sure enough, I did. Powerful. Rippling. Like dozens of skittering fingers rushing over my skin. It had been unbearable. I remembered crippling over in an embarrassing fit of laughter. The nurses and soldiers remained stoic, however. Just watching me giggle and squirm in my seat. God, what a rush. It was mortifying...and yet, exhilarating... 

        Brian cleared his throat. "Speaking of your screening..."

        This got my attention. "What?"

        Brian scratched at his chin, stood, and slipped one hand into his pocket. He turned away from me and paced back and forth a moment. I was starting to get nervous. "I am clear, right?" I asked.

        He turned back to face me and shot me a soft smile. "Yes."

        But there was something lingering between us. Something that I didn't like.

        "Andrew." I could tell he was mulling over his words. "Would you mind taking a walk with me? I'd like to go somewhere a little more private."

        I chewed on my lower lip. "Can I know why?"

        "I assure you, you're not in any sort of danger. Or trouble." He held up a hand in a reassuring gesture. "But I'd like to discuss something perhaps a little...sensitive with you." 

        The curtain was drawn back again and another medical staff member appeared--a thin, attractive Asian woman with dark hair and kind, observant features. She flashed me a brief smile, and she was holding a a bundle of gray clothing. "Hi," she said and introduced herself. "Doctor Chloe Sasaki." She shook my hand, then placed the folded sweater, crew socks, and joggers at the edge of my bed. I realized that these had been the same type of clothes that Juliana had been wearing. "Here you go. In case you want to change." 

        "Oh. Thanks." I remembered giving a nurse my sizes before being brought into the recreation hall. A size Medium for both top and bottoms.

        "Yes, why don't you change? Get comfortable? We'll be right outside," said Brian and then he exited with Chloe. 

        I sat a moment, staring at the clothes, wondering what on earth Brian could possibly want to address. My spinning mind prevented me from moving quickly. It must have been a good ten minutes before I had fully changed out my attire. The gray cotton was actually much softer than I'd anticipated. I wriggled my toes in the fresh crew socks. There was a pair of white slip-ons at the base of the bed, and I put them on. Though comfortable, I couldn't help feel as if I'd put on some sort of prisoner's outfit. As I stepped out onto the floor, joining the doctors beside my enclosure, I realized that many of the other patients were dressed similarly. All gray.

        "Come with me," Brain instructed and he led me across the floor. As we navigated a maze of curtains, passing medical beds, collections of tables and chairs, and groups of individuals, both staff and civilian, I started to realize the enormity of the space in which we were gathered. After the state government had launched the GUARD initiative as a means to combat and hopefully cure the strange infection plaguing the region, many spaces like this one had been converted to assist any and all standing hospitals. 

        Brian led me into an adjacent hall, this one transformed into some sort of recreation area. There had been basketball hoops wheeled in, some short-tiered bleachers, and even a billiards table. From across the space, I heard the twangy notes of a guitar. I sought out the source of the music, and caught a glimpse of a man sitting with a few of his friends. He had the acoustic instrument on his knee and he was toying with a strings. After a moment, I recognized who the man was.

        Eric. Juliana's brother--the other GUARD officer.

        More memories from the night before--

        --the tough boy in the soldier's uniform with his weapon at the ready. He'd been so cold, so direct, so unsympathetic towards Jake, Eric, and even myself. Not that I blamed him, per se, but Juliana had possessed an empathy that I hadn't sensed in him. I remembered Kyle diving on top of Eric, how scared and frantic he'd looked as the gargalite had attacked him, how menacing he was later standing over me on the catwalk right after Eric had tumbled to his death...

        ...but now...

        The man I saw with the guitar almost looked like an entirely different person. Sure, he had also changed from his combat uniform--wearing a tank top, black jeans, and converse--but he just seemed...different. Maybe it was the instrument itself, or the way his fingers were fiddling with the strings, but there was a strange vulnerability about him. When he caught my gaze, I saw his expression harden. The mistrust was back. I could only stand his scrutiny for a moment before I turned away. After a few more steps, I heard the guitar strings again.

        I followed Brian into a small conference room. Chloe waited outside, closing the door behind us.

        "Have a seat," he said. He gestured to the chair across from him, then lowered himself into his own place at the large rectangular table in the center of the room. I rested my hands on the laminate tabletop, clasping my fingers together.

        The silence around us was thick.

        "W-what did you want to talk to me about?" I asked, ashamed that my voice came out more like a squeak.

        Brian took a breath. He looked a bit...flustered? "I, uh, I supposed I should just come right out and say it. Tear the band-aid off, as we say in the medical profession." 

        I didn't react.

        "That was a joke," he said.

        "Oh. Hmm." I couldn't fake a laugh. My anxieties were mounting. What the hell was this about?

        Brian took another long breath. "Well, Mister Adler--is it okay if I call you Andrew?"

        I nodded.

        "Andrew," he said. "Do you know why we test for infection the way we do?"

        I thought a moment. Reliving the experience in my head--the intense sensations triggering across my upper body--immediately sent the rumblings of arousal into my groin. "Um, I think so." I adjusted myself in my seat, crossing one leg over the other.

        "Care to explain?" he asked me.

        "Well..." I gathered my thoughts. "You sort of simulate the sensation of being tickled, right? Because the gargs--well, they can't be tickled."

        Brian nodded. "Very good." He placed his elbows on the table. "It's actually quite fascinating. The contagion--the way it affects the mind, the chemicals it releases--it's sort of a defense mechanism."

        I pretended to follow what he was saying.

        "Anyway, do you know what happened when you were tickled? During the screening?"

        I felt a pit taking root in my gut. "U-uhm... no."

        "You had...somewhat of an unusual reaction."

        "I did?" Broaching the subject with a handsome, confident stranger was causing my world to spin. I shrugged.

        "Can you tell me--" Brian rubbed at his chin. "Were you, by chance...excited at all? By it?"

        "W-what?" I choked out a laugh. I felt my face flushing immediately.

        "Strange question, I know." Brian inspected one of the papers in front of him, flipped it up, then let it fall again. "And, really, it could be nothing. We all have physical responses when we're tickled--elevated heartrate and breathing, sure. But then there were your pupils."

        "My pupils?"

        "Dilated," he explained.

        I shrunk away from him. "Really?" I tried to portray both curiosity and innocence. I remembered that they had also checked my eyes with a bright light--it had me seeing stars.

        "And, um, there was also..." Brian cleared his throat again. "Apparently, there was some physical evidence of your excitement as well?"

        "What do you...?" I started to ask, but realized what he meant, and I went hot. The bottoms I'd been wearing before--the black joggers--had been relatively thin, and would do little to conceal any sort of arousal I'd experienced. "Oh."

        "One of the nurses noticed," mumbled Brian.

        "Oh, god." I sank my head down into the palms of my hands. Everything felt as if it were swaying. I wanted to collapse into myself. How was I supposed to explain that?

        "So, Andrew -- is it true?"

        I refused to look at him. I refused to speak. I felt my heartbeat ringing in my ears. And, as ironic as it was, I also felt blood rushing to my groin. 

        "Were you excited by the tickling?" asked Brian. His tone was cool and calm.

        I still didn't reply.

        "It's okay," he said. "Again, you're not in any sort of trouble. We know you're not infected, if that's what you're worried about. Verified. But still, it's merely something that I find intriguing."

        His words were reassuring. I lifted my head and tried to look at him. My cheeks were on fire. "Did one of your nurses really notice--?"

        Brian also looked sheepish now. "By accident, I assure you."

        I crossed my arms and fixed my eyes on the adjacent wall, which had a large, black flatscreen mounted to it. "U-um. Well, I don't know if 'excited' is the right word...?"

        "Then what word would you use?"

        A thick silence sat between us as the seconds stretched on. Finally, I shrugged. Defeated. Heavy. Mortified. "I don't know," I said. My eyes flitted to the door now and for the briefest of moments, I considered making a break for it. 

        "I'm...sorry," said Brian suddenly.

        I met his gaze. His expression looked so kind and so regretful. And the embarrassment I was feeling, for some reason, was turning to shame and sadness. I felt the unexpected urge to cry. My throat started to close up. My retinas burned. But I resisted.

        "I hope you don't feel like I'm ambushing you or anything. I understand that this can be a bit...vulnerable to discuss. Especially in times like these."

        This comment made me think of James again--how I'd lost him that night. His betrayal. His exposing what we'd shared. The way he...turned on me.

        The tears loomed more powerfully now.

        I shook my head as I fought to compose myself. "I-it's fine," I muttered. "I j-just-- I wasn't ready for..."

        Brian stood from his chair and made his way around the table. He took a seat next to me now, but he gave me a safe amount of distance. He turned to me, placing his hands in his lap. "So, it's true?"

        Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I nodded.

        I'd admitted it. To a complete stranger. For whatever strange reason, I'd been...caught.

        Fear nagged at the outskirts of the emotions brewing in my stomach.

        What now...?

        What did this mean...?

        Why would my reaction to a tickling screening be of interest to Brian?

        Brian nodded too. "Well, thank you for telling me."

        I chuckled bitterly. "Really didn't have a choice."

        Brian smirked.

        "Why does it matter?" I asked after a moment. "Why bring me here to ask me this?"

        Brian stood again, slipped his hands into his pockets, and slowly stepped around the table back in the direction of the door. "Well, to answer that, I'd like to dig a little bit deeper into this...trait of yours."

        I frowned, brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

        He turned. "Would you care to dine with me later?"

        I froze up. "What?"

        "Dinner. The two of us. I have a few things to take care of today, but I'm curious to get to know you later. If that's all right with you?"

        The way he was asking--confident, collected--and the smile in his eyes had me feeling overwhelmingly shy again. Under different circumstances--in a different timeline, perhaps--it would have sounded like he was asking me on a date.

        I shuddered at the thought.

        "U-uhm. I d-don't know."

        "Look, it'll be better than eating whatever they'll be serving in the cafeteria. And you'll only have to tell me what you're comfortable with, all right?" Brain held up his hands.

        I considered it a moment. "What about Jake?" I asked.

        Brian raised a brow. "What about him?"
        "Can I see him?"

        "If you'd like. But I don't believe his condition's improved."

        "Maybe seeing me will help?" I suggested.

        Brian nodded. "Maybe." He made his way to the door and opened it. I saw that Chloe was still waiting outside the conference room. Another woman had joined her, and she was clearly armed. A chill of anxiety rushed through me. Brian spoke to them: "I'm going to take him to see his friend. The other civilian who was brought in with him."

        Chloe looked past Brian towards me, studying me. A few seconds ticked by, then she nodded. Brian turned back to me and smiled. "Come on," he said, as if to encourage me.

        I stood and followed him back out into the corridor. The female soldier took the lead and guided me towards a gray stairwell. As we walked, our footsteps echoing loudly, Brian fell back with Chloe. Before we began our ascent, I heard them exchange a few words.

        "So? Did you ask him?" said Chloe.

        "Yes," said Brian. "You were right."

        Silence, save for the footfalls. The soldier's steps were so heavy and commanding. I frowned inwardly.

        A few more words between the doctors behind me--"So, does this mean you're going to tell him?" Chloe's soft whispers were almost inaudible. As we arrived at the next floor up, and stepped into another hallway, this one lined with white doors and more soldiers, I distinctly heard Brian answer her:

        "Yes," he said. "Tonight."

        Tonight. I hadn't even agreed to Brian's proposal, and yet, it had been decided. I would have--should have--been more hesitant. More defensive. But despite my lingering embarrassment and shame, telling Brian the truth also felt...

        Freeing.

        I felt a bit lighter, in fact.

        And, curiosity was starting to replace my skepticism. What did Brian want to tell me? What did this all mean?

       A minute or so later, we arrived at door marked: 2811. The soldier stopped and positioned herself to the left of the doorframe. Chloe stepped past me and opened the door, gesturing for me to follow her. Brian remained behind me.

        This room felt much more like a traditional hospital room: a standard bed with baby blue sheets in the middle of the space, framed by a mosaic of various medical machinery. On the far wall was a window. I could see, in the young daylight--clouds gray and thick over the city--serpentine freeways and the strange, shadowy silhouettes of colossal attractions and hotels that comprised a distant Disneyland. 

        "What a view," I said, before my eyes fell on a familiar face--the young man in the hospital bed.

        Jake.

        He looked terrible. His hair was mess across his forehead and face. His eyelids were a bit puff and dark. Scratches and cuts sprinkled his face, though he had clearly been cleaned up since his arrival. God, the way he had been thrown through the window and onto the fire escape, the way Kyle had tackled him, pummeled him in a desperate desire to wring the laughter from him...

        "How is he?" Chloe said to a nurse I hadn't yet noticed. Her white hat was perched neatly on her nest of sandy hair, like a portly dove.

        "Vitals are okay, but still unresponsive," she said. "He's got some bad bruising around his torso and arms."

        I stepped forward and took a seat in the chair at Jake's bedside. "Jake?" I said, rather stupidly. Of course there was no response. I willed myself to continue, trying to ignore the fact that all eyes were on me. "Hey, man." I spoke calmly. "It's Andrew."

        Jake's eyes remained closed. His breathing shallow. The steady cry of the cardiograph droned on.

        I turned back to Chloe. "May I touch him?" The question sounded strange.

        "Um..."

        "His hand," I said, reddening.

        She nodded.

        I took Jake's hand in mine. His fingers were so skinny and long, but his palm was soft. "I know you probably can't hear me," I said to him. "But I wanted to let you know that...you made it. We're here. At GUARD. Just like you wanted." I recalled his words to me back in his apartment--he wanted so badly to share his knowledge, to contribute to a cure for his brother.

        It was too late for Kyle, but maybe not for the rest of us.

        "I'm so, so sorry about your brother," I muttered. I squeezed his hand softly. "But you've gotta pull through for us, okay?"

        Jake remained in his undisturbed state.

        *Beep*

        *Beep*

        *Beep*

        "I'm sorry, Andrew." Brian's voice filtered forward from behind me. "You can try again later, okay? If anything changes, we'll be sure to let you know."

        I hung my head. "All right," I said. 

        They led me back out into the hall, where the medical staff and the soldier dispersed at Chloe's request. I stepped forward. Across from the room was a large glass panel, which provided a view of the convention center's lower floors: the converted recreation court, what looked like some sort of mess hall, and of course, the maze of metal rods and curtains that framed the civilian sleeping quarters.

        *Step*

        *Step*

        *Step*

        *Step*

        Someone came up beside me. I turned to see Brian. He leaned his forearms on the railing. "You seem very concerned for someone you barely know," he said.

        I didn't reply.

        "No, I mean--" He cleared his throat and nodded. "That shows something. About you."

        "I know I didn't know him long," I muttered. "But he, uh--" I hesitated. "We went through a lot. Like you said."

        Brian continued nodding. He stood up straight and slipped his hands into the pockets of his medical coat again. "You ever stop to think about just how impossible this all is?" His voice nearly gave out on the word 'impossible,' and whispers followed.

        I nodded slowly.

        "And here we are. Just trying to make sense of it. Something so... so... senseless."

        I wasn't following him.

        He sighed, hung his head, then looked back up at me and shot me a warm smile. "Why don't we head back down for now? If anything changes with your friend, we'll let you know."

        "Um. O-okay."

        "Come on." He patted me on the shoulder. We walked back towards, and then down, the stairwell. The heels of his shoes clicked loudly against the tile. As we stepped back out onto the rec floor, and I looked out across the sea of shuffling civilians, Brian spoke again. "I hope you'll take me up on my offer. About dinner later."

        I still refrained from answering him.

        "Just think about it, all right?" he said, and then he walked away.

        For a long moment, I simply stood there, staring into everything and nothing, trying to piece together the past few hours, then the past few days, and then beyond.

        I thought of Brian.

        I thought of the two GUARD soldiers--Juliana and Eric.

        I thought of Jake and his infected--now deceased--brother.

        I thought of Shay. How quickly she'd turned. (How did she even become infected?)

        I thought of my parents. Of my sister. (Where was she now? Was she safe? Was she...still alive?)

        And then those questions chased me into my thoughts of James.

        I didn't realize I was back at my bedside until I'd stumbled into the billowing curtains outside of my makeshift unit. How I'd managed to find my way through the labyrinth, I wasn't certain; only that I'd always been good with directions. Spatial awareness, James had called it.

        The conversations outside blurred into white noise. I lay down in my bed, brought my knees up to my chest, and closed my eyes.​