Never Close Your Eyes

TC: C. 45

| Chapter Forty-Five |

Now, beginning to ignore his interviewee with maximum effort, the collector grabbed the second remote from the small coffee table in between them and aimed it at the blinking light.

"In three, two..."

Murphy didn't realize the stage could get brighter than it already was until 'one' was the stage lights shining as bright as the sun in a small space and exposed the area completely. They were back in the basement of the establishment, mostly looking like a storage area with extra chairs and tables.

Once he blinked his vision back to normal, he noticed the red blinking light finally settled to a constant red.

"Welcome to the National Institute of the Zombie Arts, or better known as NIZA. I am Dean Madeline, founder. I'm joined by the only known human to survive being bit by a zombie."

"Welcome." Dean spoke courteously towards Murphy, sounding like a sneer--like he had to greet this man he didn't respect just because the spotlight was on him.

Which wasn't too far off from the truth. Dean took Murphy's eye roll as an offense and reminded him why he had to be good. The shock was quick, harsh and straight to the point. The shock martini kept Murphy sobered and taught him to control himself.

Murphy groaned, eyes scrunching in pain as he collected himself once the initial pain was released.

"As you can see, Mr. Murphy does in fact feel pain." He looked at the camera as if it was a big crowd of views awaiting reactions from the experiment, "At this stage of evolution, his central nervous system responds up to 50,000 volts."

Dean looked back to his interviewee, repeating himself like he was with a dog, "Welcome."

Murphy swallowed his next insult down his throat, eyes turning to the camera to play his part, "Thank you, it's a pleasure to be here."

"Mr. Murphy, I'd like to take a DNA sample." When Murphy barely twisted his eyebrows in confusion, Dean chuckled at the camera as if the crowd was confused as well about the measures he was about to take, "A simple swab."

He grabbed the long Q-tip from the table he had prepped before anyone woke up to stir the shit pot. When Murphy wouldn't nudge anything open to be violated, Dean stood on his feet and got in front of Murphy. He was quick to shove his thumb against the red button.

When Murphy opened his mouth to let out a silent scream in pain, Dean shoved the long Q-tip down his throat, almost making the man gagged, without consent. Clearly that was not consent, but he stood in front of the camera so no one could see what happened.

"I have so many questions for you, Mr. Murphy." Dr. Madeline faked innocence, as if he didn't just shove a thin stick down his victim's throat, coming back to his seat after encasing the Q-tip in a tube for later, "Yet, the most reliable data will come from your cells."

In other words, not only did he not trust Murphy to speak on his changes, but he knew it would probably be bullshit that he spewed.

"As you can see, I'm taking a plasma sample via consent."

Right next to the test tube was a large needle that Murphy couldn't believe his eyes had dodged when he first awoke.

"What is that for?" He cleared his throat, eyes switching from Dean to the needle.

Slow panic rose from his chest and going straight to his mouth, nervously staring at the needle like it was death himself.

"Oh, this 6-inch, maybe 8-inch, needle is for collecting bone marrow aspiration."