Zombie Guy

Chapter 23: Files, Fumbles and Freakouts

Jaime's perspective

Kevin's episodes were becoming the norm at this point—wild bursts of strength, heightened senses, and a hunger so intense it made him pace like a caged lion. He was practically vibrating as he stood by the door, muttering to himself about how Linda's silence was "definitely not suspicious at all."

I watched him from the couch, tapping my foot against the floor. I couldn't sit back any longer. Something had to give. "Alright," I said, standing up and grabbing my bag. "We're done waiting around for Linda to play hero. Let's go."

Kevin turned, blinking. "Go? Go where?"

"To the lab," I said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If she won't get us answers, we'll get them ourselves."

His jaw dropped. "Jaime, the last time we broke into a lab, you tripped an alarm and we barely escaped. You want to try that again?"

"Yep," I said cheerfully, zipping up my bag. "Practice makes perfect."

---

Getting into the facility was easier than I expected, which only made me more suspicious. Kevin had been paranoid the whole way, muttering about guards and cameras while I focused on not tripping over tree roots.

"Jaime, are you sure about this?" he whispered as we crouched behind a bush near the entrance.

"Of course not," I replied. "But when has that ever stopped me?"

Kevin groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things."

"Because you secretly love my reckless plans," I said, patting his shoulder. "Now shut up and follow me."

We crept toward the side entrance, a small, less-guarded door that I'd scoped out last time. Kevin's zombie senses came in handy as he pointed out cameras and motion sensors, grumbling the whole time about how stupid this was.

After what felt like an eternity, we made it inside. The restricted section was a maze of sterile hallways and locked doors, and every step made my heart race. Kevin, for all his complaints, stayed close behind me, his sharp senses keeping us out of trouble.

"Left or right?" he asked as we reached a fork in the hallway.

I glanced at the signs, squinting in the dim light. "Restricted Storage this way," I said, pointing left. "That's where we're going."

"Of course it is," Kevin muttered, but he followed me anyway.

The storage room was locked, but Kevin's newfound strength made quick work of the door. The hinges gave a loud *crack,* and we both froze, staring at the splintered wood.

"Subtle," I whispered.

"You're the one who said to hurry," he shot back.

We stepped inside, and my heart skipped a beat. Filing cabinets lined the walls, along with shelves full of labelled boxes and binders. A computer sat on a desk in the corner, its screen dim but active.

"This is it," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Start looking."

Kevin went to the shelves while I headed for the cabinets, flipping through files with a mix of excitement and dread. My fingers brushed over labels—"Pathogen Trials," "Subject Reports," "DNA Regeneration"—but nothing with Nathan's name.

Then, I saw it. A folder labelled "Dr. Nathan Harper—Virology Division."

I grabbed it, my hands shaking as I opened it. Inside were detailed notes, research logs, and—a photo. It was Nathan, standing beside Dr. Hayes, both of them smiling like they'd just won the Nobel Prize.

"Kevin," I called, my voice breaking. "Come here."

He appeared at my side, holding a picture of his own—a group photo of lab staff, including Nathan and, to my shock, Dr. Elias. My breath caught in my throat as I pieced it together. Nathan hadn't just worked in a similar lab. He'd worked *here.*

"This isn't just a coincidence," Kevin said quietly. "He was part of this. All of it."

I clutched the photo to my chest, the weight of it crushing me. "He... he worked with them," I said, my voice trembling. "All this time, I thought he was just... missing. But he was part of this nightmare."

Kevin placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch steady despite his own turmoil. "Jaime, we'll figure this out. We'll find out what happened to him."

Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at him. "What if we don't? What if he's gone, Kevin? What if I lose him, just like I might lose you?"

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, raw and vulnerable in a way I rarely let myself be. Kevin's expression softened, and he squeezed my shoulder.

"You're not going to lose me," he said firmly. "Not if I can help it."

For a moment, the fear and panic eased, replaced by something warmer. But before I could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall.

"Time to go," Kevin said, his voice low but urgent.

---

Getting out was a comedy of errors. I tripped over a box on the way to the door, nearly face-planting into Kevin. He grabbed my arm to steady me, whispering, "Quiet, Jaime!"

"Don't shush me!" I hissed, swatting at him.

We made it to the exit just as the footsteps grew louder. Kevin yanked the door open, and we darted into the woods, my bag bouncing against my back as we ran. I didn't stop until we were a safe distance away, my chest heaving as I leaned against a tree.

"Well," I said, gasping for breath, "that was... something."

Kevin gave me a look. "You nearly got us caught, you know."

"You're welcome for the adrenaline rush," I shot back, grinning despite myself.

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue, and for a moment, the weight of what we'd found didn't feel quite so crushing.