Zombie Guy

Chapter 5: 1 Week before Turning

I shuffled into Lab 7 for what felt like the hundredth time. It had become a strange sort of routine now, letting the techs draw yet another vial of blood and murmur about their tests. They'd mix my blood with who-knows-what concoctions, eyeing my cells like they were decoding some cryptic message. I'd gotten used to it, almost numb to the needle's prick. 

After I finished in Lab 7, Linda was there waiting by the door for me. She has been around me more. Just... there, always with that small, encouraging smile, sitting with me at lunch, sticking around long after everyone else had moved on with their day. And even though I couldn't quite figure out why she was suddenly hovering, I didn't mind. Actually, I looked forward to it.

We went to the break room together to get some lunch. I have been feeling very hungry lately, probably because of all the blood I have been losing. We grabbed some toast, fruit and muffins before sitting down at the usual spot.

"Another round of vampire work, huh?" she asked, pointing at the Band-Aid they'd stuck over my arm.

"Yeah, I think they're stockpiling enough of my blood to clone me a few times over," I joked, lowering myself into the seat across from her.

We talked, tossing jokes back and forth, her laugh mixing with mine as we swapped stories about the weird quirks of everyone in the lab. For a few moments, I almost felt like myself again, like none of the other stuff mattered. But then, out of nowhere, a sharp, blinding pain stabbed through my head, cutting through our laughter.

I clenched my teeth, grabbing my temples as my vision blurred. The pain was worse than usual, like someone was driving a hot spike straight through my skull. I doubled over, hands on my head, my elbows slamming onto the table as I tried to ride out the wave.

"Hey, hey... Kevin?" Linda's voice was close, soft but insistent. Her hand was on my back, rubbing gentle circles as if her touch alone could ease the pain. "It's okay. Just breathe through it, alright?"

I tried to focus on her voice, her words cutting through the agony. Her hand was warm and steady, a lifeline I hadn't realized I needed. Gradually, the pain ebbed away, leaving me shaken but grounded. I took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest loosen just a little. When I finally looked up, Linda's face was right there, close, her eyes full of worry. 

I don't know what made me notice it, but in that moment, she looked... beautiful. The concern in her eyes, the way her hand lingered on my back, the gentle way she'd talked me through it—suddenly, I felt something shift. My heart was beating too fast, and I felt my face get warm. I couldn't help it; I smiled, just a little.

Linda looked away, a hint of red creeping onto her cheeks. "Are... are you okay?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I think it's... it's passed."

We stood there, caught in this silence that felt heavy but somehow comforting. She looked down at her feet, shuffling a bit, before she gave a small, awkward cough.

"Good," she said, eyes still downcast. "Just... let me know if it happens again, alright?"

"Sure," I replied, barely able to get the word out.

She gave a quick nod, then practically bolted out of the break room, leaving me there alone. I watched her go, feeling something swirl inside me—a weird mix of fear, hope, and something else I couldn't quite name. Whatever it was, it felt good.

I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair as the feeling settled over me, a strange, fragile kind of warmth I hadn't felt in a long time.

By the end of the week, I found myself back in Dr. Hayes's office, my nerves feeling more frayed than usual. He had stacks of charts laid out, each one full of data points and lines I couldn't quite decipher, even if I squinted. Dr. Hayes tapped the top of a chart with his pen, gesturing for me to come closer.

"Here we are, Kevin. The tests have yielded promising results," he said, his voice steady and businesslike. "We've tested multiple pathogen variations with your DNA, and this—" He pointed to a bold line on the graph that spiked at certain intervals. "This one here shows the most compatibility. Based on our analyses, it's the pathogen we'll use for your treatment."

I stared at the line, trying to make sense of it, but all I saw was a jagged pattern on a page. Somehow, though, the reality of it started to sink in. This wasn't just another lab test or theoretical experiment; this was my DNA, my cells, my life on the line. The word treatment felt heavy, pressing down on me with a finality I hadn't expected.

Dr. Hayes seemed to sense my hesitation. "You and the other nine volunteers will start Monday," he said, the edges of his voice softening. "I know it's a lot to take in. Use this weekend to unwind a bit. There'll be plenty to think about when the time comes."

I gave a slow nod, though my stomach was churning with nerves. "Thanks, Dr. Hayes," I mumbled, slipping out of his office before he could notice my hands trembling.

The drive home was a blur. My mind felt like it was stuck on loop, playing the words pathogen and treatment over and over. By the time I reached the house, I felt more exhausted than I had in weeks.

As I walked through the door, I was greeted by a strange, burnt smell wafting from the kitchen. I glanced over, half-expecting to find some science experiment gone wrong. Instead, I saw Dr. Elias standing over the stove, spoon in hand, frowning down at a frying pan as if it had personally offended him.

"Kevin, sit," he said without looking up, motioning toward the kitchen table. "I'm making dinner."

This was... new. I couldn't remember the last time Dr. Elias had so much as cracked an egg, let alone attempted a full meal. Still, I did as he said, dropping into a chair while he carefully scooped something from the pan onto a plate.

He set the plate in front of me with an expectant look. It looked like an omelette, if an omelette had been put through a blender and scorched on high heat. There were a few charred edges and something greenish poking out from the centre. I picked up my fork, poking at it cautiously.

"Well?" he asked, watching me as if my reaction alone would determine the success of his culinary career.

I forced a smile and took a bite. It tasted... interesting. "It's, uh... different," I said, faking enthusiasm as best I could. "Really... unique."

Dr. Elias let out a soft chuckle. "Not exactly my specialty, I suppose." He leaned back, studying me with a look that bordered on fatherly. "I know I'm not great with words, Kevin, but... I just want you to know that I'm here. Whatever happens next week, you don't have to face it alone."

I felt a pang of something close to gratitude, but it was buried under a wave of irritation. All I could think was how tired I was of everyone's comforting words, of being treated like some fragile object. I forced a polite nod, setting my fork down. "Thanks, Dr. Elias. Really. I just think I need some rest."

He gave a knowing nod, clearing the plate and watching me with that same quiet concern that was somehow both comforting and frustrating. I slipped away to my room, shutting the door behind me.

Lying in bed, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts, my thumb hovering over Linda's name. Before I could second-guess myself, I sent a quick message: Hey. You busy?

Her reply came almost instantly: Nope. Just finishing up a show. What's up?

I sighed, feeling some of the tension ease just seeing her response. Just... wanted to say hi, I guess. Been a weird day.

We exchanged a few more messages, talking about everything and nothing, her jokes cutting through the unease gnawing at me. For a moment, it felt like everything was normal, like we were just two coworkers killing time instead of... whatever it was we'd become.

Get some sleep, Kev, she finally wrote. Big day Monday. You're gonna need the rest.

I smiled, typing a quick reply before setting the phone down. As I drifted off, her words lingered in my mind, quiet but steady, like a promise.