Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Thirty-Four

Monica: Part I

"Come on," Monica muttered, pressing her head against the microscope, determined to make sense of this virus. "What am I missing?"

Taylor hadn't accessed the stolen files yet, leaving Monica on her own to study the enigmatic disease. So far, she'd learned birds, fish, and reptiles were immune to it. The  agent couldn't survive longer than seven days without a living host, and each cell contained a specific enzyme designed to immediately attack the body's vital organs.

Jeannie's prognosis so far was excellent, but without samples taken before the bite, Monica couldn't determine whether the amputation stopped the infection or if genetics played a factor in her immunity. Each new test showed the body fighting the disease, and by the month's end, Monica expected Jeannie's blood to be free of the contagion.

If only the facility would stop draining her like a leech. Jeannie deserved freedom as much as everyone else in this god-forsaken compound.

Monica leaned back with a sigh, removing her elastic. Curls cascaded down her back, and she ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her throbbing scalp. Closing her eyes, she contemplated the situation.

Whatever caused the virus hadn't been a natural agent. Something like this was grown in a lab; of that much, she was certain. The question was why? And where did the source originate?

A knock on the door, followed by Doctor Amari entering. "Hello, Doctor Wainwright. Am I interrupting anything?"

Spinning in her chair, Monica shook her head and offered him a tired smile. "No. And please, call me Monica. Doctor makes me feel so much older than I am."

A dimple appeared on his left cheek as his mouth curved upward at the corners. Even in the apocalypse, he somehow managed to keep his beard neatly trimmed. Slivers of gray streaked his hair, despite his age being somewhere in his early thirties. Like everyone else, the stress of the apocolypse had taken its toll.

"Trust me; you have nothing to worry about. You're a beautiful woman, regardless of age, though I'd place you in your mid-twenties if I didn't know you."

Heat bloomed across her cheeks, and she dipped her head at the compliment. His words were kind, but after everything she'd been through; not to mention the way things had ended between her and Jayson, the timing was too soon. That, and she didn't trust him to end up missing like Freddie--something she strongly suspected had to do with Benson.

She cleared her throat and rubbed her palms over her thighs. "Thank you. You should probably be careful though. People seem to disappear after showing interest in me."

The wry lift of his brows and downturn of his lips said it all. "Hm. I did wonder if Sheldon had been pursuing you."

The mention of that vile man's name brought bile to her throat. He was nothing but bad news. Also, she couldn't decide yet if Amari had Benson's ear or if his statement came from a genuine place of concern.

Changing the subject, she asked, "What brings you here? Did you need something?"

"Only to ask if you've had lunch." His smile returned—almost sheepish and shy as he watched her with expectant, light brown eyes. "This is a small facility, and people gossip. They say you haven't been eating much."

He wasn't wrong. Monica had buried herself in her research, leaving no time to worry about meals. She also didn't like men's constant attention or their lust-filled gazes every time she walked into a room. Besides, she had plenty of food in her pantry—a perk of being essential staff.

"I eat in my quarters," she replied, purposely remaining vague. "Until I find a source and a cure for this virus, I'll probably be here or up all night in bed, checking data and seeking solutions."