Brennan Liam Patterson (scratchthesky) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2011-12-18 21:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2011 [12] december |
Who: Brennan and Kate.
What: Brennan's scheduled patrol gets interrupted again.
When: 18 Dec. 2018, evening.
Where: NY Public Library, 2nd Floor.
Rating: TBD.
Status: In progress.
Brennan rolled his shoulder in the socket, still waiting for the wound there to stop healing and just become scar tissue like the rest of his bite marks. The runner had practically gotten him down to the bone, and if when he died they autopsied the area, they're probably find scratches in his humerus from the thing's teeth. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, taking a look at the healing gash. It was still hot, inflamed, though that was to be expected. He was chewed on by a diseased person, and the wound was probably crawling with bacteria, never mind the virus that it drooled into his flesh.
He knew he was immune, but he still wasn't really sure how that worked. He wondered if it was just that genetically, his body was incapable of accommodating the virus, just inhospitable. The theory would make sense if his body wasn't currently fighting off an infection. True, it might just be secondary agents working on his immune system, but he had a feeling that whatever protected him from the virus was a combination of his immune system and genetics, that his genome for some reason had genes that were hostile to the pathogen which concentrated his immune system on the virus.
Medical genius he was not, however, and he couldn't even be sure that his ideas were correct. First off, what was the likelihood that his genome would have the codes for antibodies for a disease that had never been around prior to the Outbreak. Brennan, to be honest, hadn't heard much about the actual viral agent prior to the infection, not paying as much attention to the global news as he should have in hindsight. To the credit of his theory, it could have been a gene they were messing with, not that there was any access to any of this information now unless you could talk to someone who had paid attention to the news, the reports, all things that none of the survivors he had talked to had.
The notebook he kept his thoughts about his immunity in was starting to fill in quicker than he expected it would when he started writing in it months ago. It was interspersed with speculation, facts, ideas and even a couple existential questions he found himself repeating often. It was one of the few books he kept on him at all times, since it was his most personal; there were things about his family and his life in there that he never really wanted anyone else to see. He took a few more notes about his idea before dropping the pen down onto the book, taking up the binoculars again.
In the distance, he saw a small group of shufflers, but they weren't moving closer to the safehouse or moving at all really, but it was considerably colder outside than it had been lately. He took down another note, in the 'Shufflers' file this time, wondering if the cold had an adverse affect on the infected. He turned his attention in another direction, but there was considerable blind spot, and he decided to move on to the next window.
Last nights patrol was different for him, since Eloise had decided to join him, and in spite of the stress he was always under and the anxiousness he got when protecting his safehouse, it was the most relaxed he'd been in a while. It was weird for him, and he was still trying to get back into highly guarded routine. She hadn't really broken through much, but he was still not sure what to do with the fact that someone here didn't just hate him.
He put the binoculars down and glanced back at the notebook about his immunity. He ended up staring at it for a while before standing up and walking away from the window, pacing back and forth. He was upset. Holy Hell, he was actually upset right now. He wasn't on the verge of crying, but he could honestly say that he was emotionally disturbed, and was thankful that he was up here all alone so he can hopefully work out whatever the Hell was going wring with him so that he can eventually return downstairs without having to hide his face or something.
No one needed to see him upset. That's not how he was supposed to act.