Zombie Guy

Chapter 7: D-Day

By noon, I found myself pacing outside Lab 7, my mind bouncing between every possible outcome—both real and absurd. I had thirty minutes before I had to go in, so I made my way to the break room to wait it out. I wasn't alone for long. As soon as I sat down, Linda slipped in beside me, all smiles and energy.

"You're early," she said, nudging me with her elbow.

"Had to make sure I didn't get lost on the way to my impending doom," I joked, though my stomach twisted a little at the thought.

"Oh, stop," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "This is supposed to be the cure for your doom, not a one-way ticket to it."

A few other coworkers popped in and out, wishing me luck. Some offered thumbs-ups and pats on the back, and one even shoved a half-eaten pack of mints into my hand, muttering something about "fresh breath for the big event." It was all small gestures, but it left me feeling hopeful. I hadn't expected anyone to care all that much, let alone wish me well.

Linda, meanwhile, was scrolling through something on her phone with an intense look of concentration.

"What are you reading?" I asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Oh, this?" She turned her phone toward me, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've been doing some research. You know, trying to find a way to calm you down."

"And...?"

"And I found something! Here—give me your hand."

My heart skipped a beat as she reached across the table, her fingers brushing against mine. I held out my hand, trying to keep my voice steady as she flipped it over and studied my palm with surprising focus.

"I've been reading about palmistry," she explained, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Apparently, your life line and heart line say a lot about your future."

"Oh, really?" I asked, trying not to let my nervousness show. Her fingers traced gentle lines across my palm, and I could feel my heart racing.

She squinted, looking intensely at my hand. "According to this," she said, "you've got a strong life line, which means you're going to live a long life... so this treatment is going to be a success."

I let out a breath. "Well, that's good to know," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Anything else?"

"Your heart line..." She trailed off, her cheeks turning slightly pink as her finger traced a faint line near my thumb. "It, uh... it says you're supposed to be very loyal. And that you're going to fall for someone who's close to you."

Her voice was quiet, and we both seemed to realize at the same time just how close we were sitting. My hand was still in hers, and for a few long seconds, neither of us moved. I felt a flutter in my chest, a mix of nerves and something else I couldn't quite place.

Finally, she let go, her cheeks a little flushed. "Anyway," she mumbled, slipping her phone back into her pocket, "I'm sure it's all nonsense. But, you know... just in case."

"Right," I replied, a little flustered. "Just in case."

Before either of us could say anything else, Dr. Hayes's voice crackled over the intercom, calling my name. I glanced at Linda, who gave me a quick, encouraging nod.

"Well," I said, taking a deep breath, "I guess that's my cue."

She stood up with me, walking beside me as I made my way to Lab 7. The hallway seemed longer than usual, and with each step, my heart pounded a little harder. When we reached the door, I stopped and turned to face her, feeling like I wanted to say something important but completely unsure of what.

Linda's expression softened, and before I could figure out what to say, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. Her hand lingered on my arm as she pulled back, her eyes bright and steady as they met mine.

"Good luck, Kevin," she said softly. "I'll be waiting when you come out."

I managed a small, slightly goofy smile. "Thanks, Linda."

She waved as I turned and stepped inside the lab, the door clicking shut behind me. I took a deep breath, letting the memory of her touch steady me as I prepared for whatever came next.

The room was bright, almost painfully so. White walls, white floors, and a ceiling dotted with fluorescent lights that hummed softly, casting a clinical, almost sterile glow over everything. There were ten of us, seated in a rough circle, each of us in a chair lined with metal armrests and tangled wires that monitored our vitals. I sat quietly, glancing around as the technicians moved between us, checking heart rates, adjusting blood pressure cuffs, and taking final notes.

I could feel my pulse thrumming under my skin as I looked at the others. Some sat upright, stiff and resolute, while others stared down at their hands, their faces pale and uneasy. One woman, probably in her forties, wrung her hands, her expression a mix of fear and determination. A man across from me kept adjusting his glasses, tapping his foot against the floor. Everyone had their own way of dealing with the tension in the air, but no one looked exactly calm.

The walls around us were mostly glass, giving us a view of the observation area outside, where Dr. Hayes and his team watched us, clipboards in hand, their faces unreadable. Behind them, other techs bustled about, adjusting machinery, checking data screens. To the right of our circle stood a row of small, glass-walled cells—our next destination. The rooms were isolated from each other, each one with a single bed in the centre, surrounded by blinking monitors and metallic racks holding ominous-looking medical equipment.

I swallowed, my mouth dry, as I turned back to the group. This was real. The jokes, the casual talk, the distraction of Linda reading my palm—those things felt like a different lifetime. Now, it was just me, a handful of strangers, and a treatment I'd pinned all my hopes on.

One by one, each person was escorted into one of the glass cells. My turn came, and I was guided to a cell on the far end. The room was smaller than I'd expected, with white walls lined with stainless steel trays and machines I couldn't begin to identify. The bed in the centre looked like something straight out of a medical drama—white sheets, thick leather straps along the arms and legs, with a chest strap just above. The sight of it alone was enough to send my heart racing.

I climbed onto the bed, feeling the cold metal under my back as the technicians carefully strapped my arms and legs down. The restraints were snug, but not overly tight, enough to keep me in place without restricting my breathing. I lay there, my muscles tense as they adjusted the straps and positioned the monitors around me, their faces impassive and methodical.

This was it. No turning back now.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but all I could think about was the sterile scent of the room, the sharp tang of antiseptic filling my lungs. My fingers twitched in their restraints, my mind racing with a dozen different thoughts. Would this work? Was it going to hurt? And what if it didn't work? What if I had signed up for something that would only make everything worse?

Before I could spiral any further, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Dr. Hayes standing beside me, holding a large syringe filled with a faintly glowing liquid. The needle gleamed under the bright lights, and I felt a rush of cold fear flood my veins.

"This is the initial dose," Dr. Hayes explained, his voice calm and steady. "We'll be administering it to the base of your neck. It shouldn't hurt much, but you may feel a bit of pressure. After this, you'll receive an injection every hour, over the course of ten hours. The effects are gradual, but you may experience some slight discomfort as your body adjusts to the pathogen."

I nodded, swallowing hard. Slight discomfort. Right. I could handle that.

I closed my eyes, feeling the cold metal of the needle press against my skin just below my jaw. A sharp prick, a quick pinch, and then it was over. It stung, but not as much as I'd imagined, more like a mild pressure spreading through my neck and shoulders. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as the initial wave of nerves began to fade.

I was alone now, with nothing but the quiet hum of machinery and the steady beep of the monitor beside me. I tried to focus on the rhythm of the beeping, letting it soothe me, if only for a moment. It felt surreal, lying here, knowing that over the next ten hours, my cells, my DNA, would be undergoing changes beyond anything I could imagine.