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Chapter 9

The future is uncertain but the end is always near. - Jim Morrison

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I woke up, reenacting one of the iconic scenes from the movie Exorcist as I sat up in bed and threw up all over the hardwood flooring of my bedroom. I doubled up as my stomach cramped. I used my fist to massage and relax the muscles. I panted, eyes watering at the acidic stench of my own sick. “Three injections, two of which are experimental, back to back is a very, very bad idea.” My voice was rough as a habitual chain smoker.

*Just take it slow,* Balric told me, worry evident.

“I’m fine. Just one hell of a crash.” I lowered my feet to the floor. I stepped around the mess and into the bathroom to clean the bitter, sour taste in my mouth. When I finished I called Sam. “Hey Sam, look I am really feeling bad. I’m no use to anyone like this. I’m going to need to take a sick day.”

“Yeah, sure, leave me with the psycho. Though, you do sound pretty rough. You okay?”

“I will be after some bed rest. Talk to you
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