Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Thirty-Six

Echo/Jeannie

"Where's Monica?" Echo asked when Doctor Amari entered her quarters for her weekly lab work.

The man took a set of gloves from a box on the table and put them on, averting his gaze. "She's currently unavailable," he mumbled.

His avoidance set Echo's teeth on edge, tempting her to lunge forward and give him the jump scare of his life. The only thing stopping her was the prospect of being shot and losing what little freedom she possessed.

"You could at least look at me," she snapped, resting her left hand on her hip. "You know, instead of treating me like a freak."

Daniel joined her, placing himself slightly ahead of Echo and facing Doctor Amari. "She's right. It's not like you haven't seen an actual zombie or the virus in action. All this tiptoeing bullshit is getting old."

Doctor Amari sighed, but didn't meet their eyes as he produced a set of phials and a syringe. Then he took an alcohol wipe and opened the packet. He approached her with tentative steps, stopping just within length. Taking her arm, he cleaned the skin in the crease of Echo's elbow before responding. "Forgive me; I am still uneasy around the contagion. If Doctor Wainwright's research is any clear indication, though, you should be clear to leave your room within the next couple of weeks."

Oh? That was news. Not that Daniel didn't already sneak Echo out at night, but it would be nice to have official permission to explore the facility.

"Why couldn't Monica tell me this?" she asked, resuming the original topic. In this place, unavailable typically meant something bad. "Is she all right?"

For the first time, Doctor Amari's gaze met hers, if only for a second before tying a rubber band around her arm. "She received word a close friend had been killed from the virus."

Dozens of questions bubbled at the surface of Echo's mind. Was it someone here at the facility? If so, how had the person become infected? Or were they someone on the outside who'd managed to get in contact with the people here? Would Monica be okay?

The last thought gave Echo pause. She was certain she didn't remember a time with Monica before the facility, yet her subconcious longed to comfort her with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches and trash tv.

Part of her wanted to issue an automatic apology, but Monica wasn't here to care or hear it, so why should she say anything to the doctor? She didn't owe him anything.

When she hummed, Amari injected the needle into her arm, pinching the skin as the sharp tip punctured the vein. She hissed, shaking in an effort not to rip the syringe out.

"You okay?" he asked, apparently reading her mind.

"The needle hurts." It wasn't a lie; loads of people hated needles. Best if she didn't mention wanting to jab him with it in retaliation.

Amari frowned while he unfastened the band around Echo's arm. "Sorry. I won't be long."

His definition of long differed from hers as time seemed to take forever to pass while he drew blood, change the phials, and took more.

Finally, he removed the syringe and taped a piece of cotton over her bruised skin. Green and purple splotches bloomed around the area — a side effect of constantly being drained.

Echo stepped back as Doctor Amari discarded his gloves into the waste bin, observing him. She hadn't seen him since Monica took over the study. However, despite the man's apprehension, he seemed different. More subdued.

Seeking her courage, she swallowed. "Has something happened? I mean, apart from Monica being indisposed and you treating me like the Antichrist."

Amari offered her a wry smile. "Nothing is ever as simple as it seems, Doctor. When you leave this room, be careful."