chest and shoulders, and yet two more, both her
wrists. The wrist straps secured her arms to what looked and felt
like thick, plush armrests one would expect to find on an expensive
recliner. Once Delilah got over the initial shock of finding out
she had been harnessed like a maniac—which she had been acting like, ironically—she
noticed that someone had changed her clothes. When the agents had
initially abducted her from her room, she was in a nightgown
(designer, of course) as she didn’t want to take any chances that
the mysterious infection was clinging to the clothes she’d been
wearing, and, more importantly, her.
Now, however, she was in a
white linen dress. The stark realization that someone had disrobed
her while she was unconscious, and had seen her without her clothes
without her permission, brought with it a fresh fury. She kicked
and beat, though ineffectively, against the leather restraints
until the bed beneath her sang as if it would soon fall apart. And
she sang with it…sort of. The ear shattering screams of frustration
that she released would’ve likely caused any glass objects near
her, had there been any, to instantly and violently explode into a
glistening mushroom cloud. The set of lungs on this young lady was
simply amazing. Her angry screech was deafening. It was much louder
and of a much higher pitch than any she had ever produced before
(she had never had cause to protest like this), and it strained her
vocal chords to their very limit. It also gave her a splitting pain
just behind her temples in the process. But none of this mattered
to her at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that not
only did someone have the audacity to come into her home and abduct
her, but they also drugged her and stripped her bare.
Her single-toned,
mountain-moving screech continued until a door opened and a man, a
doctor of some sort by the looks of him, in a completely white
uniform with matching white, bootie-covered medical shoes, entered
the room. He had two thick earplugs stuffed snugly into his ears.
Delilah was so busy squealing that she didn’t notice his presence
for some time. Meanwhile, he took up his position near the head of
her bed and waited…and waited. As a medical professional, he could
properly appreciate the awesome stamina it must take to sustain
such a strenuous note. Every vein in Delilah’s face and neck bulged
against her skin. By the looks of things, she could’ve easily given
herself an aneurism, but that didn’t seem to matter to
her.
Soon, the doctor became
genuinely alarmed that Delilah would do serious damage to herself
if she didn’t stop. He was just about to call for more sedative
when exhaustion beat him to the punch. Delilah’s bawling dropped
one to two decibels at first, then nearly all at once, she was
reduced to a very hoarse cough. As everything continued to catch up
with her, she found herself so tired that she could hardly move.
Finally, she let her head collapse back onto the pillow, and showed
no other signs of life beside an exaggerated rising and falling of
her chest, her mouth open to inhale as much precious breath as
possible. The doctor gazed at her and stroked her forehead gently.
She didn’t protest. She had no more energy left for
that.
“Well,
while you are a captive audience, ” the doctor
began. He thought the pun distasteful even before he said it, but
simply couldn’t resist, “let me take this opportunity to try and
help you understand what’s happening…” The doctor told Delilah that
his name was Ian Crangler, and that he was the nation’s top rated
specialist in his field of medicine (he was surprisingly mum as to
exactly what field of medicine he was talking about). Dr. Crangler told
Delilah that she was an extremely important person now, but again,
he was mum as to exactly why. In fact, the most specific
information that he gave her was that mankind had been infected by
an alien virus that made childbirth from this point on,
wrists. The wrist straps secured her arms to what looked and felt
like thick, plush armrests one would expect to find on an expensive
recliner. Once Delilah got over the initial shock of finding out
she had been harnessed like a maniac—which she had been acting like, ironically—she
noticed that someone had changed her clothes. When the agents had
initially abducted her from her room, she was in a nightgown
(designer, of course) as she didn’t want to take any chances that
the mysterious infection was clinging to the clothes she’d been
wearing, and, more importantly, her.
Now, however, she was in a
white linen dress. The stark realization that someone had disrobed
her while she was unconscious, and had seen her without her clothes
without her permission, brought with it a fresh fury. She kicked
and beat, though ineffectively, against the leather restraints
until the bed beneath her sang as if it would soon fall apart. And
she sang with it…sort of. The ear shattering screams of frustration
that she released would’ve likely caused any glass objects near
her, had there been any, to instantly and violently explode into a
glistening mushroom cloud. The set of lungs on this young lady was
simply amazing. Her angry screech was deafening. It was much louder
and of a much higher pitch than any she had ever produced before
(she had never had cause to protest like this), and it strained her
vocal chords to their very limit. It also gave her a splitting pain
just behind her temples in the process. But none of this mattered
to her at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that not
only did someone have the audacity to come into her home and abduct
her, but they also drugged her and stripped her bare.
Her single-toned,
mountain-moving screech continued until a door opened and a man, a
doctor of some sort by the looks of him, in a completely white
uniform with matching white, bootie-covered medical shoes, entered
the room. He had two thick earplugs stuffed snugly into his ears.
Delilah was so busy squealing that she didn’t notice his presence
for some time. Meanwhile, he took up his position near the head of
her bed and waited…and waited. As a medical professional, he could
properly appreciate the awesome stamina it must take to sustain
such a strenuous note. Every vein in Delilah’s face and neck bulged
against her skin. By the looks of things, she could’ve easily given
herself an aneurism, but that didn’t seem to matter to
her.
Soon, the doctor became
genuinely alarmed that Delilah would do serious damage to herself
if she didn’t stop. He was just about to call for more sedative
when exhaustion beat him to the punch. Delilah’s bawling dropped
one to two decibels at first, then nearly all at once, she was
reduced to a very hoarse cough. As everything continued to catch up
with her, she found herself so tired that she could hardly move.
Finally, she let her head collapse back onto the pillow, and showed
no other signs of life beside an exaggerated rising and falling of
her chest, her mouth open to inhale as much precious breath as
possible. The doctor gazed at her and stroked her forehead gently.
She didn’t protest. She had no more energy left for
that.
“Well,
while you are a captive audience, ” the doctor
began. He thought the pun distasteful even before he said it, but
simply couldn’t resist, “let me take this opportunity to try and
help you understand what’s happening…” The doctor told Delilah that
his name was Ian Crangler, and that he was the nation’s top rated
specialist in his field of medicine (he was surprisingly mum as to
exactly what field of medicine he was talking about). Dr. Crangler told
Delilah that she was an extremely important person now, but again,
he was mum as to exactly why. In fact, the most specific
information that he gave her was that mankind had been infected by
an alien virus that made childbirth from this point on,
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