[Previously:“Sorry about the doctor.” I say. The Head Scientist waves his hand dismissively, “he turned his back on a previously berserk zombie, what happened would have been prevented if he paid attention.” ‘So, why are you here?’ I think. “I’ve since been filled in on your seeming immunity to the gas and after running the blood tests we found out that…” I lean forward. “You are infected.” The head scientist finishes.]

‘My ears are ringing.’

A different scientist starts, “But you haven’t shown any of the signs yet, we would like to keep a close eye on you and run some more tests.”

I look at the zombie and then back at the head scientist, “So, will I be like him or will I be like?-” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. ‘Becoming a mindless monster is just as bad as dying.’

The head scientist looks at me calculating, “It’s too soon to tell, but if you had transitioned right away you probably would have ended up mindless.”

I cling to the tiny bit of hope and shiver from the wet and cold. “Do I have to stay in here from now on, or?” I walk to the bars putting my hands on them.

The head scientist laughs, “Not even patient zero stays caged twenty-four-seven, no, once we get you a limited access card you can go anywhere that unlocks for you.”

I feel my heart lifting when the head scientist notices this he warns. “But if you attack someone you’ll be thrown in here for a few nights. It’s like a time-out for going berserk.”

I nod looking back at the zombie who seems absolutely miserable. “Can I get a towel or a blanket?”

“Sorry.” The scientist that was informing me before cuts in, “Since it's a punishment we won’t allow you any requests. But tomorrow we’ll make sure you are comfortable in the living quarters.” I deflate but nod knowing it made sense.

The head scientist grins largely, “You have some basic common sense. I think you’ll get along well here.” He gestures and a guard I didn’t recognize walks up, “Make sure that specimen zero doesn’t enjoy his timeout too much.” I overheard which probably meant it was for my benefit as well. ‘What accounts for enjoyment?’ I wonder looking at the still very waterlogged zombie. He’s actively glaring at the head scientist.

I move to the far wall and sit down with my back against it. I’m freaking cold and I don’t think snuggling is going to be allowed even if I say it’s for body heat. I just do my best to conserve heat despite being shirtless. But after only a few minutes I’m shivering like crazy, I didn’t know people's teeth could actually chatter. I thought it was like a saying or something. When the zombie crawls forward and pulls me into himself I no longer care if it’s against the rules. I’m actually worried I’ll catch a cold or worse at this point.

He just quietly stares at the guard like, ‘are you going to try to stop me?’ The guard takes a long look at my violent trembles and looks away again. I take this as an invitation to continue and grab onto the zombie tightly, “Please,” I whisper to him not sure what I was trying to say but desperate to get warm. He picks me up and once again carries me to his bed but something makes him more careful about appearances.

I watch as the guard takes out a small device like a remote. I make a little noise in my alarm. The zombie looks back and then in the most ridiculous bit of strength and ingenuity folds his mattress in half squishing me in the middle. He hugs the makeshift bed burrito, holding it together effortlessly, surprisingly it works. I start warming up. I close my eyes as slowly my fits of spasms lessen and I could even potentially fall asleep. 

The guard puts away the remote mouth twitching for a second but folds his arms to continue watching. I open my eyes wider as the zombie sets his jaw stubbornly. We stay like this until I start to nod off. I can see that the zombie is getting sleepy too but everytime he starts to drift and his grip on the mattress weakens he snaps awake. I don’t remember how long it was exactly before I dozed off but he keeps me in the burrito choosing to stay awake all night so I don’t get cold.

I wake up to something far less pleasing than my dreams about being eaten in a giant sandwich.

The screams of someone finding out their loved one was dead. I make eye contact with the guard who is actively holding someone back from the cage. Profanities stream from the mouth of the aggressor, and I realize they are all aimed at the zombie. The zombie who is struggling to stay awake. I tap his arm concerned and get greeted with undeserved happiness from sleep deprived, gray eyes. He releases me from the mattress burrito and sinks onto the bed still trying to stay awake though. ‘How is screaming so normal for him that he doesn’t even look?’ Then the frantic, messy haired lover snatches the remote from the guard somehow. Tingles of danger go up the back of my neck just as he points it and presses the button. I don’t even remember what happened but for some reason the remote did something to me and not the zombie.

I cough returning to self-awareness as the pain hits me and then over the roar of pain and blood rushing in my ears I hear more screaming. This time from the zombie as well. I look down at blood, it's all over me, I panic, what happened?’ I try to roll over but my body is so tense. I seize up again and my vision fills with red. ‘Blood, everything…hurts, am I dying?’ I try to scream but I can only gurgle. I reach up needing to know what is wrong with me. My eyes are still there, my nose and mouth. I cough realizing I haven't breathed in yet.

I keep swallowing uncontrollably, my throat… it burns or tingles, the sensation is weird. I touch it and my fingers keep going and going and I have to stop myself as I freak out. I can’t scream. I writhe mouth open gurgling and clawing at the air. I bleed out so quickly that I barely process the red shadow of people standing over me and something pressing against my neck before bam unconscious. 

I can feel sensations again. My consciousness struggles to rise acknowledging that at one point there was nothing, not even a heartbeat. Am I dead? A spirit? My brain being ever so spicy tells me I’m stupid it’s obvious. I open my eyes, sitting up on the table. I look around the surgery room, the blanket falling off of me. I turn to look at the mirror that shouldn’t be there.

‘I’m a zombie.’ My eyes are dark and dead. My skin is pale, there's no blood in my lips which have turned blue. I touch my chest and wait… this is impossible. For a body to function at all there needs to be oxygen sent to the organs, or they die, rot. There are electrical signals but even my muscles need more than that. I don’t have a heartbeat. I don’t have a fucking heartbeat! I stare at my reflection, my glossy eyes scaring me and start gasping for air. The hole in my neck wheezes.

I scream but just make a harsh noise. I scream again, having a full blown temper tantrum. I don’t want to be a living, rotting corpse! Not having a heartbeat is freaking me out. I shouldn’t be able to think or feel, right now. My throat hurts. I’m not okay. I look at my fingers and the ends are blue as well. I’m tempted to claw into my chest just to force my heart to beat. I can't explain what it’s like. The itch in my brain but also the panic, the constant panic that I was dying. I need to breathe but I am! I’m suffocating but still alive.

The doctor, or scientist, or mortician rushes in. He looks at me for almost a whole minute with shock and excitement on his old face then he calls over a radio. It’s a different language so I have no idea what he’s saying. I curl into myself, panic starting to make me feel insane. Is this how the zombie constantly feels? No he has a heartbeat, he bleeds, whatever I am, I’m different.

The room soon is filled with people. A few of them confusedly try to take vitals and have to fight me because the constant screaming panic is making it hard for me to be civil nonetheless use common sense. I look back at my image, I know I was a little narcissistic about my looks but I didn’t realize how disgusting I’d look dead. I look away as I sneer because my teeth look a little too sharp now.

I touch the back of my neck where whatever they put in my neck didn’t detonate correctly and instead of decapitating me completely blew the front of my throat out. Why the frick would they make something like this and have it connected to a remote that would be so easy to accidentally detonate? Imagine if someone forgot it was in their pocket and sat on it. I start laughing at the thought. I make a few scientists step back considering the hole in my neck now makes every noise sound like a horror movie.

I try to get up and the rest of the doctors step back, letting me. They are eager to see what I’m capable of, it’s disgusting. They killed me and did whatever this was to me and now I’m just, what? A toy, a successful experiment, something they forced to stay alive just to see if they could?’ I approached the mirror and not gonna lie moving was different. Like I’m not heavy anymore. I barely feel my muscles.

I look around since the paranoia is making my head spin. I just want to curl into a ball and cry. To my surprise my eyes do well up. I touch the mirror. A shudder goes through my body. I open my mouth a little and see that my tongue is still there. I then tilt my head up, which is a freaking experience in and of itself and examine the hole. It’s not bleeding, or crusted like the bleeding stopped, it's just…well burnt and my Adam's apple, trachea, esophagus, and vocal cords are all either heavily damaged or missing in that area.

I can look down and see the esophagus and trachea continue. I’m pretty sure that’s going to be a problem. I imagine that someone might be tempted to throw something trying to get it into the hole. 'What the hell am I thinking? That's the problem?!' I can easily fit a fist into the hole in my neck. I turn my head one way and then the other, my spine is either not damaged or they fixed it.

I realize something and lifting my head again I can see some of my spine showing through the hole. Freaking great. I thought the white was something else. I’m a living anatomy dissection. 

The doctors approach me again. I lower my head and ignore everything, letting myself get led back to the table. They conduct whatever experiments they were dying to do and I tuck my legs to my chest curling up as the tears flow down my cheeks. I can taste them. I can still smell. I can still feel. But all my senses seem so dull now. 

I’m left alone. I wait until I can’t stand it anymore and then looking at my arm I hesitantly bite it. I wince because I can still feel pain. But no matter how deep I bite there’s no blood. In horror I give up. I wrap my arms around my knees and bury my head deeper. I don’t want to feel anything right now.

Liquid slowly gets my attention. I look up and see that the sensation bugging me to notice it was coming from the bite. I sit up and look at my arm closer. 'It’s not from my tears right?' I press at it and more liquid squeezes out. I tilt my head at it and look around the doctor's room, an idea forming in my head.

Getting up. I search through the cabinets not believing my luck when I find a microscope sitting on the counter besides who knows what other medical/scientific equipment. I grab it, picking it up a little, the cord falls catching my attention. Hurriedly I plug it in. I search around and through drawers scattering things and making a mess until I find the little disks that go into it. I’m running purely on what I’ve seen before and I at least know that I have to try not to contaminate it with anything.

I shakily place the disk against the liquid on my skin, making sure to only get the liquid on it and then I hesitate. ‘Do I need something to cover the top of it?’ I shove a different disk into the microscope and look through the top. It’s completely dark. I'm so full of nerves that I almost dropped the cover onto the ground. I can see the disk now. I bet I can spin the top to zoom but as I go to grab the disk with the liquid on it a man enters. I freeze wondering if I’m in trouble for touching things.

Then I recognize both the sheer height and platinum blonde ponytail. I narrow my eyes at him and then let out a little insulted gasp as he calmly pushes me out of the way. He grabs something from the drawer and uses it to cover the disk before inserting it into the microscope. He looks into it and I see him messing with dials and zooming in. Stepping back silently he gestures for me to go ahead. I lean forward looking through the microscope.

After a second my eye adjusts and I see thousands, millions of tiny bugs. I jerk back in disgust and look at the doctor for an explanation. He is watching me closely. “Look again.” He demands. I steel myself and look again, I wanted to anyway. ‘Am I already rotting?’ I hold my breath and watch them squiggle around, he zooms in more and then I notice much to my relief that I’m not already being eaten alive by bugs but get concerned again when I realize its metal.

Robots? No, I heard a word for this before. Nanobots? I heard that medicine had already started using these but of course they wouldn’t tell people how advanced they had already gotten.’ I feel a little disappointed, ‘So it’s all just science, I thought they were making zombies on a molecular and chemical level. Changing or mutating DNA.’ 

“Look again.” He demands harsher, which confuses me, why is this so important for him? I listen and as he moves the camera around more stopping when I notice something else, other than clear, translucent “blood cells” some bacteria-like thing latches onto it and then lets go and attaches to the nanobots, lets go again and seemingly frustrated attacks itself. I look at him and wait for an explanation. “That is the zombie virus, it wasn’t able to completely infect you because of the incident.” 

‘Incident?!’ I think angrily. 

“You are partially infected, but not enough to heal quickly,” he raises a corner of his mouth slightly, “or at all. We don’t know what is going to happen since the zombie virus needs a living host with blood to survive.”

‘So what are the nanobots for?’ I think and hope he continues the explanation. ‘Is that why I am still alive? Are they replacing and replicating my blood?’ 

“We are going to see what happens to the virus and then use the nanomites to fix your throat.” He touches it and I flinch back in disgust. “You’ll be good as new but we can’t remove the nanomites they’re stuck permanently, they were for a different strain of zombie so they have the same mindset.” 

‘There are nanoid infected zombies?’ I think, ‘I wonder if the other zombies get along with them or if they have some type of rivalry?’ I smirk.

“They’ll kill the host if we try to remove a large scale of them.” The doctor finishes making my smile fall.