One Word, Awakening

Here's a OneWord I pounded out - before coffee even. Feels good to be back.

Once bitten, he waited for the awakening.
He sat there on a crusty couch, in a dented trailer in a park that didn’t even have paved roads. Dust would rise up and coat everything each summer; flecks of mud decorated everything the rest of the year.
He could feel it. He knew it. The awakening was coming. He thought he felt a strange warmth at the puncture wounds.
“Go get that arm cleaned up, you hear,” his mother said, picking up her nearly blind Chihuahua. “Before you bleed all over my couch.”