Now it was not one of those "near-miss-whew-I-almost died" kind of deaths. No this would have been a slow and painful death. And unfortunately, I still might not make it.
This will be a death from TOXIC MOLD. Yes, toxic mold. Where your eyes and throat and tongue swell grotesquely. Your lungs slowly fill with a viscous liquid which drowns you silently in a serene and somewhat ironically dry hospital room.
What, oh what, can save me from this certain torture? Lysol Disinfectant Spray – two aerosol cans worth! I hit the bedroom like a crazed gunslinger. Two cans for two hands. The disinfectant smoke was thick, my eyes burned and watered profusely. My throat caught fire. Was this any better than the slow death of the mold? But I pressed on. A swift and sharp kick to the bathroom door splayed it open. A tight combat roll onto the hard tile…my hands worked quickly and independently from each other and from any conscious thought my brain may have sent. Left hand – toilet. Right hand – towel rack. Two handed double spray into the shower!
Suck my spray evil spores!
And then it was clean.
The hotel location...nice!
The first wave of attacks!
The tub of death!
After the firefight, I lie down, exhausted. Sleep comes quickly. I awake with a start. This antique wall heater has set the entire complex ablaze. My throat again catches fire as I breath my last gasp... a gasp of a hot putrid smoke that fills my lungs. Death was here tonight.