The Cure for Green Thumb

Clint rummaged through his side bag, shunted the paper and files aside so he could get to his laptop. Waiting in the unbearable light of the hospital hall bugged his eyes, but he mused that staring at his laptop screen for hours never seemed to bring a strain.

He grunted in frustration when he opened his silver laptop and the screen never came to life. The battery was dead. And Clint felt like he was going to kill an actual human if he didn’t find something to do. He shoved the computer back into his bag and huffed in his chair.

Clint had reached the hospital pretty quickly, and early. Three hours had flown by and still no updates to the woman he brought in from the sidewalk. He was preparing to enjoy the open air of the park, type away a few files so he could be set on Monday for work.

The lady just passed out, spitting blood and bile as her skin seemed to loosen off her body. He’d gone into action like a true hero. He wrapped his jacket around her, shoved her in his car, and drove her to the nearest hospital. No one wanted to pay for an ambulance ride. And, thanks to his quick thinking, he was sure she’d be grateful. Or someone would be.

Clint debated walking off. Honestly, it was her rack, and the possibility of a decent thank you that kept him patient. He was absolutely positive he wouldn’t have done anything if she wasn’t good looking. He was fine with his current girlfriend, but there was something about the fun of a random chick. Of course, he stuck hard to the whole ‘what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’

It was a little bit of obligation to save that girl, though. Underneath all the self righteousness–which Clint was fully aware of–it was duty from person to person. Clint just cared more for the good that came to him personally when involved with such a thing. He wanted the fame. Meant he might be able to quit his shitty job.

Either way, Clint was at least joyed to grab a feel on her in the car. He regretted it when he brought her through the door and set her on the gurney. When they rolled her away, Clint didn’t see a person anymore. She was hollow. Nothing more than a pack of her skin and clothes, like her organs and insides had been sucked out of her mouth and empty eye-holes.

Gnarly. And gross. She lost all her appeal after that. Clint remembered once when–
Why was there a severed toe on the floor? No, a thumb.

It caught Clint’s attention. How long had it been there? He felt like he’d peeked at the spot several times over the last couple of hours. It looked like a dog turd in the middle of a white floor. Super noticeable. And he’d seen several people walking by. Did they not notice?

Clint found himself searching the ends of the halls. No one noticed. Another doctor just barely missed stepping on it. Clint expected a reaction, anyone finding it. Nope, just him.

Just him. Eyes locked on a decrepit, black, disgusting, burned, decaying, disturbing, glowing–
Thumb. Her thumb? The right one, Clint thought.

He jolted in surprise when a doctor rushed out two nearby doors, desperately struggling to find something. Clint pointed. And she swiftly grabbed the chunky thumb in a handful of gauze. She rushed back to the operating room.
The thumb, the blackest and mightiest, disappeared from his life as fast as it’d entered.
You know what, Clint was tired of waiting. He stared into the black hole left by the wayward flesh. The tile where it once touched crumbled to sand. Clint ignored it, he didn’t have time to wait for some bimbo with a problem.

Clint limped off, his right toe was a little numb, and he felt as if his clothes were severally sagging. His right foot hurt as he hauled his phone from his pocket and flipped to its front camera.
Few more wrinkles. Clint rolled his eyes at his own age and returned to dragging himself towards his office building.
At least, Clint could muse, that he wasn’t that wrinkled woman. She seemed like she was having a bad day. Clint could at least be grateful he wasn’t going to be magically decaying to dust anytime soon. That brought a smile to his face.

Next prompt: Vampire plague only hits white people, and it’s really gross.

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