Zombie Guy

Chapter 10: Anger

Rage pulsed through my veins, hot and unforgiving. I thrashed against the straps holding me down, my twisted, unfamiliar arm straining as I fought to break free. The metal buckles bit into my skin, but I didn't care. Every nerve was on fire, my body acting on pure fury. My mind spun with the words Dr. Hayes had said—a successful experiment, no longer fully human—and I felt my stomach twist with disgust.

"Let me out!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the cold walls of the cell. "You did this to me! You made me into this... this thing!"

Silence. No one responded, no one even dared look at me through the glass. But I wasn't alone. As I looked across the row of cells, I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. In one of the cells, a figure was thrashing against their restraints, their movements frantic and jerky. Another cell over, I could make out the faint outline of a person twisting in their bed, their voice a muffled, desperate cry.

I strained my ears, trying to make out the words. It sounded like a woman, her voice hoarse but still strong enough to cut through the silence. The desperation in her tone was something I recognized all too well—a mix of terror and rage, the kind that clawed its way up from somewhere deep inside. They were like me, trapped in bodies that no longer felt like their own.

A crackle from the intercom pulled my attention, and Dr. Hayes's voice came through again, cold and clinical.

"Kevin, you're one of three who survived," he said. "The others didn't make it, I'm afraid. As did none of the previous volunteers."

My mind stumbled over his words. All those people I watched going inside the Lab, all the people who were in there with me... all dead? The weight of it settled over me like a suffocating blanket, and I felt the rage boil over, sharper than ever.

"You killed them!" I shouted, my voice raw with fury. "You killed all of us! We trusted you, and you just let us die—turned us into monsters!" I strained again against the straps, desperate to feel something give, to feel something break.

But then, as the silence stretched on and my own anger echoed back at me, a different thought broke through the rage—a memory, a face. Linda. I'd promised her I'd be okay. I'd told her this was the cure, that everything would be fine. And now... what was left?

The anger dissolved as quickly as it had come, replaced by a hollow ache in my chest. I felt my strength drain from me, and before I knew it, the rage had been replaced by something else entirely—grief. My body shook, and a sob tore itself from my throat, raw and broken. I'd lost everything, hadn't I? The hope, the promise of a future, any chance of a normal life.

My vision blurred, and the world around me became soft and distant. I could still hear the other voices, the frantic noises from the two other survivors, but I barely registered them. All I could think of was Linda's face, her hand on mine, her promise that she'd be waiting for me when this was over.

And now, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to go back to her.

I closed my eyes, letting the tears flow, my shoulders shaking as I sobbed, each breath ragged and painful.

The anger had dulled, settling into an exhausted ache, but then a flash of memory shot through my mind, like a jolt from a dream just beyond reach. Images flickered—blurred shapes, shadows, the overpowering scent of blood. My stomach twisted. "Dr. Hayes," I rasped, my voice cracking, "was it... was it real?"

A pause. Then, Dr. Hayes's voice filtered through the intercom, measured and cold. "Yes, Kevin. There was someone who entered your cell...and they did not survive."

A sharp pang of nausea surged through me as his words sank in. I clenched my fists, bile rising in my throat as fragments of the memory fell into place. I remembered the surge of uncontrollable hunger, the blur of red and white, the feeling of flesh tearing beneath my hands. I had killed someone. In a haze of instinct and rage, I had taken a life.

"Why... why didn't I remember?" I managed, my voice hollow.

"The pathogen's effects are multifaceted," Dr. Hayes explained, his tone as detached as ever. "When you feed, you experience a temporary state of dormancy afterward. Your mind shuts down, allowing your body to rest. It's a self-preservation mechanism."

I felt the bile in my throat rise, disgust roiling in my gut. "Self-preservation?" I spat. "You call that self-preservation? You turned me into a... a monster!" My voice trembled with rage and horror, the full weight of what I'd done pressing down on me. I had killed, acted on some twisted instinct I couldn't control. The horror of it settled over me, sharpening into a renewed, furious resolve.

I gritted my teeth, feeling strength surge through my limbs as I yanked against the restraints with all my might. The leather creaked, strained, then finally gave way. My arm snapped free, and I didn't hesitate. I tore off the remaining straps, adrenaline fuelling me as I stumbled to my feet. With all my force, I threw myself against the glass wall. It cracked, a web of fractures spreading, and I didn't stop. I hit it again and again until the glass shattered with a deafening crash.

An alarm blared, but I was already moving. I sprinted down the sterile hallway, ignoring the flashing red lights and echoing sirens. My only thought was to escape—getting out of this place, away from this nightmare. I barrelled through the doors into the halls of the facility, and into the night air, my feet pounding against the ground as I kept running, refusing to look back.

The cold night air stung my face, and I barely registered the branches and leaves tearing at my skin as I plunged into the dense woods. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get as far away as possible. My mind was a blur of rage, shame, and desperation. I couldn't bear to think about what I'd done, about the blood on my hands. I just had to keep running.

After what felt like miles, I stumbled, breathless, into a clearing lit by the soft glow of string lights and the muffled thud of music. A group of people laughed and cheered around a bonfire—some kind of college party, their faces flushed and carefree as they toasted drinks and danced. I froze, hiding behind a tree, instinctively trying to avoid the light.

But I wasn't fast enough. A woman, her face painted in smudged makeup, spotted me from across the clearing. She blinked, then squinted, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Hey!" she called, walking over with an easy grin, clearly unbothered by my appearance. "That's some serious dedication to the horror look. What kind of makeup did you use?"

I stared at her, momentarily stunned by her nonchalance. Her face lit up with excitement as she got closer, peering at my cracked, decayed skin with fascination. "Seriously, this is amazing. I do horror makeup all the time, but this is... next level!"

A surge of panic rushed through me. I couldn't risk staying here, not with all these people so close. Before I could think twice, I lunged forward, grabbing her arm. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock as I pulled her away from the party, back into the cover of the woods. She squirmed, struggling against my grip.

"Hey! What the hell? Let go of me!" she hissed, twisting in my grasp.

"Quiet!" I whispered harshly, dragging her further into the shadows. "You don't understand—I can't be here. And neither can you."

She kept struggling, but I held on, leading her deeper into the woods as her panicked breaths echoed in the darkness.