Gerald charged away from the camp and into the forest. He only made it a few yards before he collapsed and started gasping on the ground. He tried to take deep slow breaths as he fumbled in his pocket for his pills. His throat felt like it was closing and he was starting to feel lightheaded. He struggled with the cap on the pill bottle and managed to get it off. Shoving two tablets into his mouth, he forced himself to swallow the bitter pills. He gagged on the disgusting taste and wished he had a drink to wash them down.
It would be a whole fifteen minutes before they worked. He remained on his knees, one hand grasping a tree trunk, his other arm deep in the decomposing leaves of the ground. He looked around him, trying to focus on anything other than the nausea he felt rising in his gut and the need for air in his lungs. He tried taking deep breaths. His doctor had always said counting was supposed to help but he had never been able to concentrate long enough to get past three. His mind was having trouble focusing.
He looked around, half hoping someone would come and bring him some water, but he really didn't want anyone to see him like this. It was bad enough he was trapped on an island with complete strangers, and well on his way to establishing himself as 'worthless book snob', but he also had to go into fits because he found a snake coiled up on his chest when he woke up. That was to much to think about at the moment. Instead he tried to focus on getting enough oxygen into his body. If he hadn't been struggling for air, he would have yelled out in frustration. Why did this have to happen now?