Colin McGregor (macattack) wrote in omega_rpg, @ 2008-07-06 17:56:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | coby, mac |
A meeting of men.
Who: Mac and Coby
Where: The Clinic
When: June 17th (backdated)
After all the commotion of finding Clara, getting her home, Simon's near panic attack as he got her to the clinic, and Mac's subsequent radiation poisoning - Mac was exhausted. After telling Simon to go sit with his kid, he'd thrown his arm over his eyes and promptly passed the hell out, sleeping mostly through the night only waking up once to puke into the trashcan the nurse had placed at the side of his bed the night before.
He woke the next morning, wondering how Clara was doing and if Simon had stayed up all night worrying or not.
Coby woke up disoriented and in dire need of more painkillers. His hospital bed was a far cry from the comfort of his own, but after sleeping on the ground for two weeks it felt like a blessing. He had slept through the night, mercifully, but now he felt like he had chugged a bottle of ipecac. He rolled over to aim for the garbage can and saw that his hospital suite was now occupied by a roommate. Hm. "Hi," Coby said. "I'm-"
And then he hurled into the plastic liner on his little trash can.
Mac turned his head at the voice, watching without a flinch as the guy puked mid sentence.
"Sick?" he finished for him.
Coby nodded and looked at the guy. "A sick guy named Coby." He grinned, not his usual friendly smile that he gave to everyone he met, but the kind of Cheshire grin reserved for when he was talking to a really, really hot guy. And this guy was really, really hot. And he just threw up in front of him. Great.
Mac lifted a hand in greeting. "Mac."
Coby wiped his mouth with a two-ply tissue and asked, "So what are you in for, Mac?"
"Went for a walk outside of town," Mac replied. "Apparently it ain't too good for your health. Though it looks like you know that."
Coby nodded. "I wanna say it's because of the nuclear fallout, but you know I also ate some sketchy shellfish last night when I got here. Did you eat the shellfish too, Mac?"
Mac shook his head, smirking. "Stupid move. Normalville's not known for their seafood."
"Fuck, I knew it." He laid back down, woozy, and started feeling around for his call button. "Who do I have to blow to get some goddamn pepto bismol around here?"
Mac let out a laugh, which hurt his stomach, but fortunately, he didn't feel the need to vomit. "Might be out of luck there," he said. "Seems like this place is run by ladies."
"Aw, man." Coby sat up and turned to punch his pillows. "That doesn't do me much good then. You'd think they would know how to be motherly and administer medication." He was feeling sick again and was trying so hard not to throw up, but lost the battle and leaned over the bed railing. Something orange was coming up now. Gross. "Ughhhhhh, fuck." He reached for another tissue, but the box was empty. With the force of his frustration and anguish, he knocked it off the nightstand and into the garbage. It landed with a splat in the vomit pool, and he was resigned to wipe his mouth on the paper sleeve of his hospital gown. "I need a nurse. Or a gun."
"Why not start with tissues and work your way up to a gun?" Mac replied, tossing him the box of tissues from the nightstand by his own bed.
The box hit Coby in the side of the head and bounced to the floor on the other side. How was is possible that he made throwing a box of tissues look hot too? "I'd much rather have the gun right now, thanks." He looked back at the tissue box on the floor, trying to determine if he could reach it without falling off he bed or throwing up on it and rendering it useless.
Might as well take his chances. Balancing on his knees and facing away from Mac, he carefully leaned forward towards the box. The blood poured into his head and made it pound harder. So close....
Mac watched, half amused, as the kid basically presented him with his ass. Mac was not above noticing that it was a nice ass.
He looked like he was about to fall off the bed though - and he also seemed much sicker than Mac was - probably about as sick as Clara, and she kept passing out the whole trip home.
He slid out of bed (he was still in his jeans from the evening before, but had removed his shirt for sleeping purposes) and padded over to where the box had fallen.
"You're going to pass out and land on your head," he said, picking up the box for him.
Coby tried not to stare at Mac's bare torso as he stood in front of him, proffering the tissues. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
Coby must've been a lot sicker than he was, because moving took more effort than anything he'd done so far in his life, but this guy was hopping around like an angry-looking bunny rabbit.
Starting to feel sleepy again, he curled up on his side so that he could have a nice view to fall asleep to.
Christ, that was a really gay thought, even for him. The radiation must've killed a lot of brain cells.
Mac had only been out in the fallout for about two days, and he was used to extreme conditions.
"Last thing I need is a damn nurse yelling at me cause I let you kill yourself trying to reach a box of tissues."
"A nurse would actually have to show up first. Not likely." He yawned and closed his eyes. "But thanks for caring."
Mac shook his head, lips quirking slightly. "I'm sure they're around," he said, heading back over to his own bed. He'd basically walked for three quarters of the day before with a sixteen year old girl on his back. He was still tired.
Without bothering to open his eyes, Coby mumbled, "Are you from around here, Mac?" Listening to someone else's voice after being in solitary confinement on the way here was a luxury. It helped keep his mind off what he had seen that day in the city and all the worries that went along with it.
"I'm from Boston," Mac replied, putting his arms beneath his head and getting comfortable. "What about you? What were you doing out in the fallout?"
Oh, now he could place the accent. "The city," he replied. "That's where I was when the bombs hit."
"Shit," Mac said, lifting his head to get a better look at him. "You were in one of the places that the fucking bombs actually hit? You're lucky you aren't dust."
"I know. I was in a basement when it happened, I had no clue what was going on until some firefighters came to rescue me." He popped his eyes open again to look at Mac. "No clue how I lived through getting here, though."
"Must have been a hell of a trip," Mac agreed
"Eh, most of it's running together now. I'm so exhausted from walking. As soon as this nausea goes away I am going to eat the biggest fucking cheeseburger I can find. This town has a bar, right?"
"Yeah," Mac said. "They've got one."
"Good, I think we could both use a stiff drink."
"You're telling me. This end of the world shit is too fucking stressful," Mac replied.
"You really think the world is ending?" Coby adjusted himself to get more comfortable, his brain unwillingly alert. "How many places did the bombs hit? You've got to figure if it was only a couple, there are still a lot of people alive. Out of six billion people on the planet, I think we've got a fighting chance."
"A lot of places. A fuck of a lot of places," Mac said. "And it sounds like we fired back."
"Wait a minute, what do you know?" Suddenly his stomach was churning violently, and he wasn't sure it was because of the radiation poisoning. "Dude, I've been in the middle of fucking nowhere for like two weeks. I barely know my ass from my elbow right now. You need to explain what the fuck happened. This wasn't an isolated incident?"
Mac turned to look at him. "We heard a broadcast from a nearby army base. They hit almost every major city in the US. We fired the fuck back. Apparently 'destruction is complete'."
"Well what do they consider major? Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami? New York, obviously. Boston? Have you tried reaching your family? I haven't been able to find a working phone to get a hold on my brother."
"The didn't say Boston. But who the hell knows. New York, Philly, Chicago, D.C. Dallas, L.A, Seattle - a couple others, Vegas and Atlanta I think." He shook his head. "Phones don't work. Cell or land lines."
"Oh great, Vegas is gone. So even if I live through this I don't even get to celebrate. And we're completely isolated."
With the last bit of strength he didn't even know he had, Coby pulled his pillow over his head and screamed "FUUUUUUUCK." Then he removed it, took a deep breath, and turned back to his new friend. "Sorry, Mac, I know you probably want to go home to your wife or whatever instead of listening to the delirious hissy fits of a sick asshole."
Mac gave a snort at the mention of his "wife". "Only person waiting for me at home is my dad. But yeah, he's a little less whiney." He smirked at Coby.
"Sorry. I swear I'd shut up if the nurse would come in here and give me morphine. But thanks for listening, anyway. ...Hey Mac, can you do me a favor?"
"Depends what it is," Mac said.
"When I fall asleep, if you don't hear anything from me for a while, can you just come over and make sure I'm not dead?"
Mac blinked at him, the question completely unexpected. "Yeah. Sure, kid. And you better not fucking snore."
"I've never been told I snore." Seconds later, he was out like a light.