Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

Her face flushed and she narrowed her brows at me in obvious disdain. I smiled.

“You smile now,” she caustically bit, “but you have no idea what you’re in store for today.” She smiled in return and my own fell.

I swallowed hard and stared at Cassandra’s mean expression, shocked at myself for being unable to show no emotion. The truth? I was scared, terrified really because I had absolutely no idea what I truly was in store for. Not concerning the shots and certainly not Masego or whatever the hell they called it.

“Miss Price,” Dr. Ford said, “if you’ll sit down. I have several forms here for you to sign.”

He handed me a stack of papers.

“What are all these?” I asked him, perusing from one form to the other.

“Liability wavers.”

“Ah, so what exactly do you need liability protection from?”

Spencer walked in at that moment and sat beside me on the bed, drying his wet hair with a towel.

Dr. Ford sighed and pulled my vanity stool closer to me. He opened his leather satchel and inside, strapped tidily within a pouch, was an ungodly amount of syringes. I sucked in a breath and Spencer tucked his hand around my shoulder.

“Adacel,” he began, reading from a list on his lap, “which prevents tetanus, diphtheria and acellular pertussis. Hep A and B I’ve given you several months ago.”

“Why?” I asked curiously, just now wondering why I never asked questions before.

“Because of your,” Dr. Ford said, clearing his throat and glancing at Spencer, “increased activity as of late.”

“I see,” I said simply. Spencer laughed and I elbowed him. “Continue.”

“I’ll give you a revamp of the flu shot. Let’s see,” he said, glancing down at a few different sheets of paper. “A meningococcal booster dose, MMR or measles, mumps and rubella. Uh, pneumococcal, very important, polio you have, rabies,” he said, looking over a chart, “you’ll need a refresher on. You’ll need typhoid but varicella you’ve had.” He looked up at me. “Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, grasping Spencer’s hand.

“Calm yourself, Miss Price. You’ll need to follow strict food and water precautions while abroad. Consume only canned or commercially bottled drinks. Avoid using ice cubes, though I doubt they’ll have refrigeration where you’re going, which is also why you should only eat fruits and vegetables you peel and wash yourself. Avoid cold cuts, salads, watermelon, puddings.”

Dr. Ford looked up at me.

“It goes without saying, Miss Price, but do try to avoid casual sexual contact. I cannot stress that enough.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Never use needles or syringes used by other people. Avoid sharing a razor or toothbrush. No tattoos or piercings while there. Remain in well-screened or air-conditioned areas when possible. Wear clothing that adequately covers your arms and legs and use DEET-containing insect repellent on both your skin and clothing. Refuse blood transfusions unless in a life or death situation and try to ensure they’ve been properly screened first.”

“Yes, if I’m dying and in desperate need of blood, I’ll be sure to ask if the blood’s been properly screened first.” Deflecting your fear through sarcasm. Nice, Soph. He’s only trying to help you.

Dr. Ford’s face became deadly serious. “You do not understand, Miss Price. This is no joking matter. You are visiting a highly-diseased area. The things I am trying to protect you from can be the difference between dying a painful, horrible death...or not.”

Right, thanks for that visual, doc.

“Cassandra will be bringing by an immunization record to keep with your travel documents. Don’t lose it. They may not let you back in the country if you can’t prove you’ve taken preventative measures.”

“You’re shitting me,” Spencer piped in.

“Hardly,” Dr. Ford replied, now rolling his own eyes. “Shall we get started?” Dr. Ford asked, turning to me.

“You will be feverish and sore in the injected areas but Tylenol should help you there. Get some rest,” Dr. Ford added after the shockingly painful administrations, right before closing the door behind him and Cassandra.

“You should probably take those pain meds now,” Spencer said. “My mom always made me take them right before my shots as a kid so I’d avoid getting ill later.”

“They’re in my bathroom. Shelf,” I said, lying down.

Some of the shots I’d gotten hurt tremendously. I’m not joking. The needles were huge and the injections felt warm and invasive.

Spencer brought me a glass of water and a fever reducer. I drank it down quickly. We both laid down on the bed facing the ceiling after I turned the stereo on low.