When I wake up in the Bunker’s medical bay, my first thought is that every inch of my body is in pain. Even breathing results in a dull ache, likely from the polluted air that I inhaled after the Ruthless broke my gasmask. I open my eyes and gather my surroundings.
The medical bay is one of my least favorite rooms in the entire Bunker. It’s pretty large, and it sits in the middle of both mine and Lavish’s Bunkers, so that it can be accessed easily from both sides. Harsh fluorescent bulbs cast a sickly blue glow over everything, and the metal floors suck the heat from your body like a leech sucks blood.
I’ve never been in the medical bay for anything serious. Mom and Dad occasionally bring me here to administer a shot or to grab some medicine more intense than the painkillers we have in our bathroom cabinet.
I can tell that whatever I endured at the hands of the Ruthless was pretty bad, because I’m actually hooked up to a machine (I didn’t even know those still worked). A pulse-checker on my finger connects to a beeping monitor, and a clear plastic mask over my mouth and nose feeds me fresh oxygen.
Across the room, I can see the hazy figures of my parents. They look like they’re having an intense debate about something—but I can’t be sure what.
I groan to get their attention.
Mom turns to face me immediately. She whispers something harshly that I barely catch the end of: “…talk about this later, Reid.” Then, she swiftly walks to my bedside and leans over it. There are heavy black bags under her eyes, which gives me the impression that she hasn’t slept much recently.
I try to talk, but moving my mouth sends a shooting pain up my face.
“Oh, baby,” Mom murmurs.
“Why does my face hurt?” I manage to croak out. My voice is hoarse and scratchy sounding.
Mom glances back at Dad, who sighs and reaches behind one of the medical bay cabinets for a small mirror. He tosses it to me. “You should probably see this one for yourself, kiddo.”
My fingers close around the mirror. “What the-,” I lift the mirror to my face, only to reveal the most grotesque scar I’ve ever seen stretching from my cheek to my chin. The wound has been stitched and cleaned up, so it’s not like it’s bloody or anything. But I still can’t bear to take my eyes off of it.
My fingers tremble as I bring them up to touch it. I wince—it’s tender.
“Thank your lucky stars, Rekill,” Dad says, drawing my eyes away from my own beastlike reflection. “That scar’s only from the broken glass of your gasmask. Had it been from the Ruthless…”
Dad trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish his thought. I know all too well what happens to a person who gets bit by an R-Zomb. Without getting too into detail, it’s more or less a death sentence. They have some nasty bacteria in their spit that corrodes human flesh from the inside out. It’s practically acid.
“Where’s Lavish?” I ask.
“In his room, where’s he’ll be staying until he’s his father’s age,” Dad says grimly. “Rekill, what on Earth were you two thinking? You know how dangerous it is to go outside. And to go without telling anyone was just foolish. Do you realize that you could have died?”
I nod. Looking at the hurt faces of my parents, I do feel genuinely guilty for worrying them. Especially my Mom.
“We lost our entire lives to the Ruthless, son,” Dad says, tensing the muscles in his jaw. “And your Mother and I sacrificed everything to protect you. To just go out and throw your life away like that…”
“You’re very special, you know,” Mom says.
“I know.” My eyes flicker down to my lap. “I guess… I just wanted to know what it was like to feel the sun. The real sun. Not like the lights in the Arboretum. It was really stupid, and I’m lucky to be alive. I know that.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom brushes her slender fingers over my forehead, pushing back my hair. Never in my life have I ever thought of my parents as beings separate from myself. But right now, as I look at my Mom, I can see years and even decades of a life without me reflected back in her eyes. Before she was my Mom, she was a person.
A person who has been through way more than I’ll ever know.
“What was the sun like, Rekill? Remind me,” Mom asks, her voice soothing.
I smile faintly. “It was warm, kind of like a hug. I liked it.”
Mom smiles tightly. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay, honey. Now, your Father and I are going to get dinner ready, so just ring if you need us.” She kisses my forehead. “Get some more rest, Rekill.”
Mom and Dad retreat out the medical bay doors, leaving me to my thoughts and to the soft hum of the machines I’ve been hooked up to. Truthfully, I’m not very hungry—just tired. I let out a shaky breath and let my eyelids slip shut. And before long, I fall right back asleep.
I wake with a start, to the sound of the Bunker’s alarm system blaring.
At first, this doesn’t bother me much. After all, we do test the alarms pretty regularly. But after five minutes, the speakers in the medical bay are still blaring. It takes them another five minutes to stop, and when they do, the silence is deafening.
I hear one of the medical bay doors slide open. I turn and see Lavish bursting into the medical bay, tears streaming down his face and a baseball bat clenched in his hands.
“Rekill, thank God!” Lavish shouts, rushing up to me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“That R-Zomb your dad killed—it must have somehow alerted another one. And it… oh God, man, it took our parents!”
This gets my attention. I grip my best friend by his shoulders and shake him. “What?!”
Lavish swallows hard. “Our parents, Rekill. They’re gone.”
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