Zombie Guy

Chapter 24: Cracks in the Plan

I couldn't stop staring at the photo of Nathan and Dr. Hayes. Jaime had set it on the table between us, and it felt like the two men were mocking us with their casual grins. I wanted to tear it in half, to rip it to shreds, but I couldn't look away. This man—Jaime's brother—was connected to all of it. And yet, none of it made sense.

Jaime sat across from me, her expression tight and unreadable. She hadn't said much since we'd returned from the lab, but I could feel the tension radiating off her.

Before I could figure out what to say, there was a knock at the door. Jaime stiffened, and I instinctively tensed.

"Relax," she said, standing. "It's Linda. I texted her."

She opened the door, and there Linda was, looking irritated and tense. She stepped inside without a word and dropped her bag onto the table, her gaze flicking between us.

"You two," she started, crossing her arms, "are idiots. Do you have any idea how reckless it was to go to the lab like that? You could've gotten caught—or worse."

"Oh, here we go," Jaime said, rolling her eyes as she sat back down. "Lecture us, why don't you? Like you've been doing so much better with your cryptic texts and secretive nonsense."

Linda's jaw tightened. "I've been trying to keep you safe, Jaime. Maybe if you'd trusted me—"

"Trusted you?" Jaime shot back, her voice rising. "What exactly have you done to earn that trust? We're out here risking our necks while you—"

"Enough!" Linda interrupted, slamming her hand on the table. The sheer force of her voice silenced us both. "You want to know what I've been doing? Fine." She pulled a thick folder from her bag and threw it onto the table. "Read this."

Jaime grabbed the folder before I could, flipping it open with sharp, angry movements. Her eyes darted over the pages, her expression shifting from anger to confusion and then to horror.

"Kevin," she said, her voice low. "You need to see this."

I leaned over, skimming the pages she held up. They were files on the other test subjects—names, numbers, conditions. My stomach twisted as I read through the details.

"They all died," Jaime said softly, her eyes glued to the paper. "Every single one of them. But... Kevin, look at this." She pointed to a line in the report: *Subjects 001 and 002 showed signs of severe neural deterioration before death. Aggression and feral behaviour observed prior to termination.*

"They weren't like me," I said, the realization sinking in like a lead weight. "They didn't keep their memories. They didn't stay... themselves."

"They didn't have your protein," Linda said, her voice quieter now. "The tumour in your brainstem—it made you different. The pathogen interacted with it in a way we've never seen before. It gave you regenerative abilities, but it also preserved your consciousness. The others... they lost everything. They became feral, mindless."

I stared at her, the weight of her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "And you didn't think to tell me this sooner?"

"I didn't want to," she admitted, her tone defensive. "Kevin, this isn't something I wanted you to know. You're different, yes—but it comes at a cost."

"What cost?" Jaime demanded, her voice sharp.

Linda hesitated, her eyes flicking between us. "Your cells," she said finally, looking at me. "They can't replicate your healing factor in a lab. The only way to access it is through... you. Your living tissue."

---

The silence that followed was deafening. Jaime sat back, her arms crossed tightly as she glared at Linda. "So what you're saying," she said slowly, "is that Kevin's not just an experiment—he's a resource. A walking, talking science project for them to harvest?"