Zombie Guy

Chapter 15: Hunger and Hope

Linda's perspective

Sitting at my desk, I scanned the nearly empty office, then turned back to my computer screen. Kevin's words kept running through my mind. People started dying, Linda... only three survived. The idea was horrifying. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I typed "Lab 7 project files" into the database search bar, hoping for anything that might confirm his story.

The screen flickered and returned no results. Frustration gnawed at me as I tried different terms: "Phase III Experiment," "DNA modifications," "Dr. Hayes." But each search ended the same way—blank screens and dead ends. It was as if Lab 7's records didn't even exist.

I glanced around, making sure the few colleagues who hadn't gone home yet were still engrossed in their work, and then pulled up Dr. Hayes's email directory. Scrolling through his recent messages, I spotted one from a strange, unmarked address labelled SecureCommX7. The subject line read simply: Status Update Required.

My heart quickened as I opened it.

"Dr. Hayes,

In light of recent developments, your discretion is essential. The funding board has high expectations for Phase III and will not tolerate further incidents. Any evidence of mortality must be contained, and all surviving subjects should remain monitored at all times. Report immediately on Subject Zero and any viable outcomes from secondary trials. The future of the program is in your hands."

Surviving subjects. Evidence of mortality. My stomach twisted as I realized what this meant: whatever had happened to Kevin, they'd been expecting it. And they'd planned to cover it up from the start.

I forwarded the email to my personal account and logged off quickly, slipping out of the building as quietly as I could. Jaime was already waiting for me at a small coffee shop down the road, her hands wrapped around a cup, her expression tense.

Jaime's Perspective

I sat at the coffee shop, hands wrapped around my cup, trying to push down the frustration gnawing at me.

When Linda slipped in, I saw that same determined look in her eyes that I'd seen the night before, and a glimmer of hope flickered inside me. She sat down and pulled out her phone, sliding it across the table to me. My eyes widened as I read the email on her screen.

"Dr. Hayes,

In light of recent developments, your discretion is essential. The funding board has high expectations for Phase III and will not tolerate further incidents. Any evidence of mortality must be contained, and all surviving subjects should remain monitored at all times. Report immediately on Subject Zero and any viable outcomes from secondary trials. The future of the program is in your hands."

"Mortality... containment... They're treating people like test subjects," I muttered, the words making my stomach twist. "This sounds exactly like the kind of thing my brother might've been involved in. He was a scientist, always talking about 'classified work,' breakthroughs he couldn't share. Then one day, he just... disappeared. No note, no warning. I think he found out too much, and they did something to keep him quiet."

Linda's eyes softened. "If Dr. Hayes is the one in charge, then he might know what happened to him," she said. "But we have to be careful. If he even suspects that we're onto him, this whole thing could fall apart."

"I know it's risky," I replied, meeting her gaze. "But if there's even a chance my brother is alive—or if helping you and Kevin gets us answers—then it's worth it."

We spent the next hour sharing every detail we knew. I couldn't help but feel that, piece by piece, we were getting closer to the truth. And for the first time since I'd set out to find my brother, I felt like I wasn't in this alone. Linda's determination and compassion reminded me of why Kevin cared about her so much, and it gave me a renewed sense of purpose. She promised to keep me updated, and we left the café feeling like we were finally getting somewhere.

Kevin's Perspective

I was pacing again, which seemed to be the only thing I did these days. I tried every trick I could think of to ignore it—recalling memories, staring out the window, counting my breaths—but the hunger was a constant ache, clawing at my insides. It had started as an itch, but now it was a full-blown emptiness, a hollow pull I couldn't shake.

"Kevin," I muttered, gripping the edge of the counter. "You're still you. You're in control." But no matter how many times I told myself that, the hunger just grew stronger. My senses felt sharper, my muscles tense and coiled, like my own body was rebelling against me.

The door creaked open, and Jaime stepped inside, her eyes immediately taking in the scene. She shut the door quietly and leaned against it, her face full of concern.

"You're... hungry, aren't you?" she asked, her voice soft, like she was afraid of setting me off.

I let out a long breath, nodding. "I thought I could just... ignore it. Pretend it wasn't there. But it's... stronger than before. Every time I try to push it down, it just... fights back."

Jaime crossed the room and put a hand on my shoulder, her voice full of sympathy. "Kevin, this thing is part of you now. Ignoring it isn't going to make it go away. We need to figure out how to handle it, not bury it."

"I don't want to be a monster," I whispered, barely able to look her in the eye. "I want to be me, Jaime. The person I was before all this."

She tightened her grip on my shoulder, her gaze steady. "You are still you, Kevin. And whatever this... thing is, we'll figure it out together. You're not alone in this."

Her words cut through the haze, easing some of the panic clawing at my mind. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the memory of Linda's hug, her reassuring words. The hunger faded slightly, a dull ache instead of a sharp pang. For now, I could handle it.

"Thank you, Jaime," I said, my voice hoarse. "I don't know how I'd be getting through this without you and Linda."

She offered me a small smile, her eyes warm. "Well, lucky for you, you've got both of us. And we're not going anywhere."

Her presence grounded me, and as the ache subsided, a flicker of hope returned. We had a plan, allies I could trust, and for the first time, I felt like there was a chance at real answers. If I held onto that—and to the people who cared about me—I knew I could keep fighting.