BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 13| Push pin

"Well, well. If it isn't Reynolds and her smitten bodyguard."

I ignored Stephen's sneer and took a look around, my eyes still adjusting to the dim light of the basement. There was a candle stuck inside a small glass mug opposite the two brothers, and only its weak glow was illuminating the room.

Max was curled in a fetal position, his bound hands behind his back. His eyes were closed, but dried blood caked his eyelids, and I shuddered at the thought of what lay behind it. I had always been sensitive to eyes--I could handle beheading and almost any form of torture in horror movies, but give me one scene where the eyes were being gouged out or stabbed and I'll run screaming away from the room.

I turned back to Stephen, whose eyes were mocking behind his glasses. His mouth curled upwards as he caught sight of me looking at him, his eyes pausing to stare at my wound.

"That's going to leave a scar."

I reflexively covered my stomach with my hands, grimacing as a low throb ignited in my newly stitched wound. Christian stepped even closer to me, and I glanced up to see him glare at Stephen.

If looks could kill...

I immediately looked away, and crouched down before Stephen. I had a question to ask him, and I needed to know the answer.

At my sudden movement, Stephen switched back his focus to me. Again, the mock in his eyes returned, like I was a pet dog he was willing to entertain.

I gritted my teeth. "Stephen, I need to ask you something. How did you and Max manage to control the zombies?"

He inclined his head, that mocking light never leaving his eyes. "Why, Kathryn, I thought you'd never ask."

I watched as he shifted position, until his back leaned against the wall. His uniform was now dirty and ragged, his necktie crooked. For a moment he looked upwards, thoughtful, then his gaze went back to me.

"Do you know how vaccines are made?" he asked.

I shook my head.

He sighed. "Predictable. Well, its no use to start there then. How about biological warfare? Know anything about it?"

This time, the word was familiar. I nodded.

"Typical. Your dad taught you about bioweapons, but not about vaccines." He turned to Christian. "What about you, Grim Reaper? Any knowledge about bioweapons?"

Christian ignored the barb. "A bioweapon is a bacteria, virus or fungi that's used in war, isn't it? But its already been banned."

Stephen whistled. "So the thug has a brain. Interesting. But yes, both of that is right. President Nixon banned the great United States of America, land of freedom and celebrity shitheads, from ever using chemical or biological warfare ever again. It was signed by other countries, and happily ever after."

Then he snorted. "As if. Its only in paper, and if any country listed in there followed the treaty, then they'd be utter morons. Now, back to my original question, which both of you didn't manage to answer."

He let a beat pass before raising an eyebrow. "How are vaccines made?"

I thought about my own vaccination before the apocalypse began, which had been a vaccine against the Hepatitis B virus. Mom had been worried I'd be like all the other lusty teenagers and be at risk for developing the disease, so one day she made me visit a doctor and had the shots injected. He told me a little about the vaccine, and said it was--

"Its full of weak virus," I said. "Vaccines are made to wake up the immune system and fight the real virus when it comes, so the doctors inject us with weak viruses so that although we wouldn't be able to get sick, our body will recognize the virus the next time it invades."