Love is Dead

It's Professor Goodwin to You

Carmen's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding, and a bitter taste in her mouth. Blood? I must've bit her lip too hard when I was knocked unconscious. She blinked against the dim light filtering through the small cabin's dirty windows, disoriented. Her wrists were bound tightly to a rough wooden post, the ropes digging into her skin. A quiet groan escaped her lips as she shifted, testing the bounds, only to find herself tangled and stuck.

Beside her, Logan stirred. His eyes flickered open, squinting against the dull light as his expression shifted from confusion to cold clarity. He tensed immediately, pulling against his restraints.

"Carmen," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. His eyes scanned the cabin, flicking over the exposed wooden beams, the cracked furniture, and the faint traces of dust.

A voice from the shadows broke the silence.

"Well, well. Look who's awake."

Carmen's breath caught in her throat as she turned toward the door, where Will leaned casually against the frame, a smirk playing on his lips. But it wasn't just Will. There was another man beside him—short, scrappy-looking, with wild black hair and a tussled white coat that looked as if it had been worn for years without a wash. His eyes glinted behind round glasses, his posture rigid and calculating.

The shorter man stepped forward, tilting his head, his gaze fixed on Logan with curiosity.

"So, this is the infamous Logan," he muttered to Will. "The one who's apparently found a way to evolve. No longer a cannibal. Fascinating."

Logan's lips curled into a tight, sardonic smile. "Evolve? What the crap are you even talking about? I'm just me."

The shorter man—Professor, as Will had called him—adjusted his glasses and studied Logan with an almost clinical fascination. "It's more than that. How did you do it? How did you suppress the urge? We've been watching you, Logan. I've seen enough infected to know—your body should be following the same pattern. But it hasn't. Fascinating."

Logan snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're really wasting your time with this, aren't you? You think you're gonna crack some code? Find the secret to surviving all this? Newsflash, doc: there is no secret. People survive because they adapt. I'm just lucky enough to be one of the ones who didn't lose my humanity."

Professor's eyes narrowed. "And yet, you've lived. Not only that, you've managed to resist the instinct, the hunger, the need to cannibalize. That's... that's unprecedented. Could it be psychological? Some kind of mental fortitude?"

Logan clenched his fists, veins bulging from the tension in his arms. "The only person whose psychological problems we need to explore are yours professor asshat," he hissed, his words cutting through the air. "It's survival. And the fact that you're treating this like some grand experiment makes me sick."

The professor eyed Logan a bit amused. "It's Professor Goodwin to you."

Will chuckled softly, crossing his arms as he appeared into the light. "You should've seen his face last night. The good professor has been obsessing over you. You're the subject of his latest 'study.'" His smirk widened. "Bet he's been dreaming about this moment for weeks."

Carmen's eyes darted between Logan and Will. She could feel the frustration radiating from Logan, and for once, she didn't blame him. The situation felt wrong—off. This wasn't some random encounter; this was orchestrated. Will had been following them, watching them, and now they were here, tied up and at the mercy of these people who seemed more like predators than allies.

Professor continued, his tone growing colder. "I truly hope you don't mind but-We were hoping to study your reactions, Logan. To see if it's hunger that drives the infected—or if it's something else entirely. What's it like for you? When you're hungry... do you feel it? The urge to devour?"