“No, I’m fine really.” Deacon shooed away the EMTs, who were trying their best to get him to go to the hospital and get medical attention.

“You really should get that checked out and get some shots. If that animal had rabies, you need to get the shot as soon as possible or the effects could be irreversible and lethal.”

“If I start foaming at the mouth and barking, I’ll be sure to call right away.” Deacon held his good hand up, extending his thumb and little finger up to his ear like a phone.

The truth was, Deacon did not have health coverage, and the lease on his vehicle would need to be paid, regardless of if he worked the whole night or not. It was fifty dollars a night, no matter what, so he needed to make more than that to clear some cash for himself. The clock was running, and he was losing out on the money he could be out there earning. He wasn’t about to go into a hospital just so they could send him a thousand-dollar bill for a few shots that he would not be able to afford anyway.

“You sure? We can take you right now.” The short Asian EMT man asked, looking genuinely worried for the other young man.

“Yeah, I’m good, I gotta get back to work.”

The police officers had already taken his statements, got his contact information, and ominously told him that they would be “in touch”. They were now talking to the coroner and helping to load the body into the coroner’s van, while taking the cage and briefcase into evidence.

“Am I free to go?” He called over to the officers. They convened for a bit, wasting even more of his precious time. They finally gave him the go ahead.

Disgusted by the whole situation, Deacon got back into his cab and drove off. All the dead professor’s belongings were taken in as evidence, so he never even got paid for the ride that had cost him half of his shift. A stop by a twenty-four-hour car wash to get the mess out of the back set took even longer, and even after a long time he couldn’t get it all out.

It was a few minutes until four in the morning before he gave up and spread a towel out and set out to start picking up passengers again. He scrambled to catch up, taking a few calls, but found the street fare was slow. By five-o-clock the fares began picking up again and he was running a positive balance. Seven-o-clock and the end of his shift came, and he took the cab back to the station, disappointed by his take for the night, but at least he managed to do more than break even.

The boss chewed him out, even after paying the lease for the night. He would also have to pay for a deep clean, or a reupholster on the back seat. There was no use in arguing, he knew that already, even with the police report he had received from them earlier. So, at the end of the shift, he walked away with an animal bite that was now burning fiercely, and not only no money, but it looked like he would actually owe about fifty bucks.

When he finally made it make to his apartment, Deacon headed straight for the refrigerator and cracked open a beer. He only meant for it to chase down the hard stuff and he frowned when he saw the bottle on the counter was nearly empty. He sat down in his recliner and took a long pull from the bottle, letting the amber current flow into him, warming his stomach and limbs, and numbing the pain that was his life. He then chugged the beer for good measure. He stared at the wild turkey on the bottle label as it began to blur, as his eyes unfocused pleasantly.

“Ouch.” He suddenly became aware of the fierce burning pain in his hand. It was now traveling up his entire arm. He took another drink from the bottle and started to become dizzy.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Came a familiar voice from the kitchen.

Deacon blinked and looked over the half wall that divided the kitchen from the living room. Had someone broken in?

“Who’s there?” He managed to ask in the manliest voice he could muster under the circumstances.

“Did you forget me already?” Deacon realized he did recognize the voice. It was his refrigerator again.

“Why are you still talking to me? I’m not on drugs anymore.” Seriously, it didn’t make sense anymore. “Am I?”

“No, you’re not. But the drugs triggered something inside of your fragile psyche, You’re not well Deacon. You should seek help.”

“I don’t want any help. This is all the help I need.” He drained the rest of the bottle down his throat and went back to the fridge to retrieve another beer.

“You know that bite is probably infected. You’re running a high temperature, and that alcohol is not going to do your body any favors.”

A mouth-watering hiss sounded as Deacon pulled the tab back and opened the cold can. He could tell the fridge was right, he suddenly felt like he was running a temperature. He was able to ignore the slight cough and sneeze he’d developed in the last hour of his shift, but now his body was starting to come down with the chills. He put the cold steel can against his burning forehead and felt immediate relief. And then something worse happened, much worse. As he took another drink of beer, his stomach protested, and the other end obliged.

Deacon ran to the bathroom as fast as he could and sat down on the toilet. The worst noises he’d ever heard in his life came from his other end and it sounded like someone pouring out a pitcher of water. It was terrible, a crime against humanity…almost worse than a modern art exhibit.

“It’s a good thing you aren’t religious.” Came the annoying voice from the kitchen. “Because God isn’t going to come anywhere near that crime scene.”

“Shut up!” Deacon felt like passing out and might have if his body did not decide to start round two underneath of him. He felt like one of those space rockets that was launching into orbit, only thankfully, he stayed put.

After he had expelled what felt like his entire insides, he stumbled back to his tiny bedroom, banging against the walls like a pinball the whole way. He knew he was probably dehydrated after what had just taken place in the bathroom and decided to chug the rest of the beer to compensate.

“Beer dehydrates you even more you moron!”

“Shut up I’m ignoring you!”

“That’s right, he doesn’t have your true best interest at heart like I do anyway.” This new voice was deep and raspy, like some cartoon character super villain.

“Who are you? Cobra Commander?” Deacon looked around for this new voice. The first one made no sense at all, but at least he knew where it was coming from, this new one just sounded like it came from behind him.

“No. I’m your alcoholism. You’ve got room for another drink Deacon.” The voice answered him.

“What the hell? Why am I hearing so many voices? Am I crazy?”

“No Deacon, you’re just sick. And the only cure for your sickness is another drink. Feed me Deacon.” The raspy voice said. “Feed me and I’ll make everything better.”

Deacon stood for a moment, contemplating this new turn of events and shrugged his shoulders. If he was truly becoming schizophrenic what choice did he really have in this matter? He could go and live in a hospital; they would probably take his license and medallion away so he couldn’t earn a living anymore. If he was going crazy, it seemed like he might as well get drunk too.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

He went over to the fridge and opened another beer. He blinked and did a double take. He thought he had only bought a six-pack, but there was a full case in there, shoved in the back. It was a magic trick apparently, or maybe he was losing track of time and having blackouts? Better to not think about it too deeply.

“I won’t question it.” Deacon took another drink and pointed to the case of beer. “Because it’s the first crazy thing that’s happened to me that benefits me.”

He started getting dizzy again, and knew it was time to lie down.

“Tell me fridge, alcoholism…whoever wants to answer. Am I going to die like the dolphin said?”

“We’re just voices in your head Deacon. We can’t predict the future.” The raspy evil voice returned.

“Is that true fridge?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Fine.”

Deacon managed to chug the third beer before he reached his bed. He was now full blown feverish and slumped down onto the mattress heavily. He was soon snoring into his pillow.

* * * *

Nate came walking through the gates to the apartment complex and turned towards his friend Deacon’s. When Deacon did not show up at the party last night, he knew something had to be wrong. He knew all about the breakup with Sarah by now and was worried about what he might have done in his emotional state. Add in alcohol to an emotional state like that, which Nate knew he had been doing, and it was a recipe for disaster. He just hoped there wouldn’t be another hobo party going on inside.

“Hey Nate, what’s going on?” Came a female voice from off to the side.

Nate turned and saw Gina, a girl from the neighborhood they had gone to school with sitting on the steps of her apartment smoking a cigarette and trying to get his attention.

“Gina. Have you seen Deacon?”

“A few days ago. He didn’t look so good.” Gina came walking over. “If you’re going to check on him, I’m going too.”

“Whatever.” Nate kept walking.

They came up to his apartment and found the front door not fully latched.

“Oh no that’s not good! Maybe some crazy person killed him!” Gina exclaimed.

“That’s not a helpful thing to say.” Nate frowned.

Nate pushed open the door and walked inside. There were immediate signs of alcoholism everywhere. Namely the dozens of empty beer cans and liquor bottles that were scattered across the coffee table in the center of the living room and lying all over the floor.

“Yo, Deacon!” Nate called out; a cold feeling crept over his spine when he was not immediately answered by his friend. Images of all the young rock stars that had drank themselves to death swirled inside his head. He cursed himself for not coming by to check on Deacon sooner.

“I hope he’s okay. Deacon is so totally cute.” Gina remarked.

Nate turned to her and curled a lip. It was something of an open secret that Gina had a crush on Deacon ever since high school, but Deacon would never look at another girl besides Sarah. Probably for the best, Sarah was obviously a slut, but Gina was weird. On second thought…whatever.

Nate walked down the tiny hallway that housed the bathroom on one side and the single bedroom on the other. The bedroom door was also half closed so he pushed that door opened and stepped inside. The room was dark, and the shades were pulled. It smelled like death.

“Deacon? You here dude?” Nate crept inside the darkness of the room.

Suddenly something in the bed sat up and scared Nate half to death. He screamed and hopped back to the doorway. The haggard hairy figure that sat up was not immediately recognizable as his childhood friend. Worse still was that Nate swore that two tiny red eyes were glowing back at him in the darkness like some supernatural monster. He regarded this strange anomaly for a moment before flipping on the light switch next to him with a shudder. It must have been an optical illusion, his eyes playing tricks on him, because the glowing stopped with the light suddenly illuminating the room. But then on a whim he decided to turn them back off to test the theory. Again, they lit up like glowing orbs.

“Dude, your eyes are glowing.”

“Ehhh, they do that.” Came Deacon’s hoary voice.

Nate then flipped the lights back on. Deacon was sitting up in bed, holding his head. His eyes were sunken and darkened, his long dark hair was wild and flowing and his facial hair had grown out of control. His sideburns were sticking out several inches thick and had an odd point to them. His skin was pale and clammy, and overall looked like a breathing corpse. A crazy, hairy breathing corpse.

“Dude, you look like shit. You ok?” Nate asked. “You look like a Rockstar after a binge. Or a wild animal.”

A low grumble came from Deacon, something that emanated more from his chest like a growl. He shook his head, blinked a few times, and met Nate’s eyes. There were more empty beer cans and whiskey and vodka bottles lying all over the room, along with what looked like vomit splattered all over the carpet.

“Yeah man, I’m good.” Deacon replied in a deep scratchy voice. He sounded anything but. “Why?”

“Someone said you haven’t been to work in a few days, and you didn’t show up to that party we threw. No one’s heard from you in days. What’s going on, you sick or something?”

Deacon began to get out of bed and Nate turned away quickly when it became apparent that he was naked underneath the covers.

“Put on some pants dude.”

Deacon looked down and realized that he was naked. He quickly searched around and found a pair of jeans with the knees torn out. After sliding them on, he came out of his bedroom with the rest of him naked, heading straight to the bathroom. Gina was behind Nate in the hallway, watching expectantly. A strong stream sounded from the toilet, and Deacon made a screech as if urinating were painful. The stream eventually stopped, started again and stopped again, and then they both heard Deacon wretch and throw up. He then came out as if nothing at all was wrong.

“Gina? What are you doing here?” He asked as he noticed the petite girl with a wild mane of long light brown hair standing in his hallway.

“Making sure you’re ok. No one has heard from you in days.”

“I think I was just a little under the weather. I’m fine now.” Deacon sat down on one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. He found a half-smoked soft pack of cigarettes on the kitchen table and lit one up. He briefly moved to dump the full ashtray on the table into the trashcan but stopped when he saw that the trashcan was overflowing with beer cans already.

Gina noticed the dirty bandage wrapped with a soiled bandana over the hand that he was smoking with and came over to investigate.

“That bandage needs to be changed unless you want it to get infected. What did you do to it?” She asked.

“Funny story…well actually maybe not so funny. I got bit by a wild animal. Yeah, definitely not funny.”

“What?” Nate laughed, thinking it to be a joke at first.

“Yeah, some passenger had some kind of wild animal in a cage, and it got out. I guess I was lucky though…the dude died, I just got bit. Hurt like a motherfucker.”

“That’s crazy, a wild animal in Chicago? What kind of animal was it?” Nate asked.

“I dunno man. It was like a big black rat. About the size of a small dog. It bit like a crocodile though. It happened so quick…I dunno.” He shook his wild mane of brown hair that fell into his face.

“I’m going to clean this.” Gina stated while unwrapping the bandages. “Did you go to the hospital for this?”

“Nah, I couldn’t really afford it. It’s not that big a deal though, it’s just a little bite.”

Gina gasped when she pulled the bandages away. The wound was gruesome, and the entire hand was black with bruising. His fingers were swollen like sausages. She could still make out the individual tooth imprints into the skin under the dried blood.

“Deacon this is bad. Do you know that you can get rabies from wild animal bites?”

“Yeah, the paramedics were going on about that shit.” Deacon shrugged nonchalantly.

“And now you’re sick and throwing up and feverish? Those are all signs.”

Gina pulled him up out of the chair and Nate laughed at his annoyed expression and she took him over to the kitchen sink and washed the wound out.

“When was the last time you ate something?” She asked. “Besides beer.” She waved her hand across the room to indicate the empty cans everywhere. He shrugged again.

Nate walked into the kitchen, which was just barely large enough to hold all three of them at a time without being seated at the table and took a closer look at the refrigerator. It had a large dent in the front, like it had been dropped or hit by something.

“What happened to the fridge?” Nate asked.

“Fuck that fridge.” Deacon returned savagely.

Nate raised an eyebrow but ultimately let it go.

After washing the wound, Gina walked around the kitchen, searching for supplies. She could not find any sort of first aid kit, or for that matter, any food that she could make. A typical bachelor pad.

“You stay there.” She finally pointed at Deacon after giving up the search. “I’ll be back. We need to rewrap that wound and I’m going to make you something to eat.”

After she left the messy apartment, Nate turned back to his friend and smiled.

“Dude. That’s the type of chick you need right now. She’s going full blown mommy mode on your ass.”

“I’m not looking for a mommy.” Deacon returned, before getting up to search the fridge. He pulled out the last beer and cracked it open. He then sat down in the chair and brought the can up to his lips.

“Dude, you really got attacked by a wild animal? In Chicago?”

“Crazy, huh? It happened, I dunno what else to say.”

“Dude, she’s right though. We really should get you to the hospital.”

Deacon grumbled but made no further protest. While they waited for Gina to come back, Nate flipped on the television to MTV, and they began watching music videos.