Zombie Guy

Chapter 11: Bargaining

The night was still, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the college party. The woman I kidnaped and I, sat across from each other on the cold, damp ground, the darkness of the woods cloaking us. She studied me with a serious, almost contemplative expression, her eyes fixed on me like I was some kind of puzzle she was working out. I'd just finished telling her everything—about the lab, the treatment, the horrifying transformation that had ripped away my humanity. I felt like an insane idiot, but I really had to tell someone about it.

She didn't speak for a long time, just sat there, brow furrowed, tapping her fingers against her knee. Finally, she broke the silence.

"So... when you have to eat, do you, like, crave brains or just any kind of flesh?" Her question was so casual it threw me for a moment. "Is it more like classic zombie hunger, or... vampire thirst?"

I blinked, stunned by her calm, almost curious tone. "Uh... I don't really know," I muttered, caught off guard. "It's just... hunger. Like this overwhelming, primal need to devour... something."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Right, right. And when you get angry, does it get worse? Like, does it make you lose more control, or are you just constantly ready to bite the nearest person?"

I stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or be confused. Her questions seemed absurd, but she was so earnest about it, so focused, that I couldn't help but answer. "I mean, yeah, I guess when I'm angry, the instincts get stronger. It's like there's a part of me that just... wants to take over."

She tilted her head, a spark of fascination in her eyes. "Interesting. So, it's like you're still in there, but something else is running the show."

"Exactly," I replied, relieved to feel something besides fear and disgust from someone else for once. "Most people would run if they knew the truth. But you... you're not even scared."

She shrugged, a small, knowing smile on her lips. "It's not the first monstrous thing I've come across. I grew up on a farm, you know. We had these fights between people every month. They'd go at it, fists and blood, for scraps of food, like it was some twisted sport. The winner got fed, the loser went hungry. The people who came to watch... they were scarier than any creature I've ever seen."

I stared at her, trying to process this. "That's... that's horrible. Why would they do that?"

She shrugged, a glimmer of defiance in her eyes. "People can be monsters too. I learned pretty quickly that the worst monsters don't always look like zombies or vampires. Sometimes they look just like anyone else. So," she said, her gaze softening, "when I look at you, I don't see a monster. I just see someone who got a bad deal."

A strange warmth spread through my chest, something I hadn't felt in what felt like a lifetime. "Thank you," I murmured, meeting her steady gaze. "I've felt like a monster ever since this... this nightmare began. I didn't think anyone would look at me and see anything but that."

She nodded, her expression soft but serious. "Well, maybe it's time you stop seeing yourself that way, too." She leaned forward, her voice barely a whisper. "If you're still in there—if you're still you—then maybe you're not a monster after all."

Her words hung in the air, and for the first time since the transformation, I felt something like hope. Maybe I wasn't completely lost yet. Maybe there was a part of me worth fighting for.

As her words settled in, a glimmer of something I hadn't felt in a long time began to stir in my chest. Hope. Maybe I wasn't just some creature driven by instinct and hunger. Maybe, if I held on tight enough, I could find a way back to being... well, to being me.