“Which I wasn’t,” I reminded them.
“We know,” Michael said. “That’s why we asked earlier about where all you have been. Just trying to eliminate you from the pool. But that still could mean that Stephanie’s theory is correct.”
“That I have zombie blood?” I ask.
“Kind of,” Stephanie explains. “You see, you blood isn’t any different than mine or Michael’s, except that you have a strain of the Z Gene that just sits there. It doesn’t attack your cells and infect you. Instead, it acts like it’s going to sleep once it hits you.”
“Your body got majorly sick after the bite, like it was fighting the Z Gene. You slept like mad. But after twenty-four hours you were fine. And dude,” Michael said in a voice filled with awe, “that is amazing.”
“One of your organs could be filtering it out of course,” Stephanie began again, “but which one? It makes more sense to me that you have always had it. One or both of your parents would have been original carriers as well, and you would have inherited this from them.”
“If that’s the case,” I protested, “and there have been carriers in the world all along, then why did we not see this before it happened?”
“Why didn’t we see the Z Gene before?” Stephanie clarified.
“Why didn’t we know that people were unsuspecting hosts of a virus that would turn the world into zombies?” I asked.
“Well,” Stephanie said, “picture your bloodstream as a public pool. Parents will pass up hundreds of kids swimming in the pool just to find theirs, right? Well, imagine that the pool has hundreds of thousands of kids running around. The only way you ever find yours is because you know he likes to use the slide, so you go to where he is normally found. That means you have ignored eighty-percent of the pool, and almost all of the other kids. In truth, you have no concept of who else is at the pool, because once you find your kid, you’re done. Well, that is blood science in a nutshell. Researchers like us look for things they know. There is loads about blood that we don’t know, and this virus is proof of that.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I protested. “If there is a kid at the pool with grey skin and bad teeth, and he’s chewing on the other kids, somebody’s going to notice.”
“Maybe,” Michael offered. “How long was it until we realized that people were not just acting weird, but were indeed eating and infecting others? One week? Two weeks? And that was happening in front of the entire world. In your case, going back to the Stephanie’s analogy, the zombie kid at your pool isn’t attacking anyone. It looks like all the other kids. Scientists would look right over him as some stranger that we have yet to identify, if they acknowledged him at all.”
“This just doesn’t make sense,” I vent.
“I think that your blood caused this outbreak,” Stephanie said, and I shook at the words. “Not you, mind you, but blood like yours. There must have been a trigger that activated the virus, and then it spread like a fire in dry grass. Everyone who did not have the Z Gene already dormant in their system was susceptible to the virus and became infected at first contact. And that has been our experience in every case… Until you of course.”
It was too much to handle. I’m one of them? I’m essentially a healthy zombie? My blood infected the world? If that were true it would mean that I am the thing I hate.
This can’t be.
“Michael?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“Got any booze?”
◊◊◊
The boy pushed on the doors and clawed at the brick. He knew deep down that he couldn’t claw through a wall, but the hunger told him that he must try all the same. He had to hurry, the hunger told him. The pain would be coming back. The anger and the desperation and the craving would rise up and make him crazy if he didn’t eat soon. So he pounded at the glass until it broke. Then he shoved himself through the window. He had to eat. The boy had to find food. The hunger told him that there was food in the building and if he ate he could be well again. Color and feeling would come back and he wouldn’t be sick anymore; just so long as he fed he would be fine. So he shuffled down the hall, following his nose and the hunger within. He would be fine. He would be okay. Just so long as he ate every living person in this building.
◊◊◊
“It’s a lot to handle,” Michael said, taking a pull of his scotch.
“Yeah,” I breathed, holding my glass under my nose. “The blood running through my system ruined the world.”
“Dr. Carver doesn’t think that, you know,” Michael clarified. We are sitting in his old boss’ office. Michael had broken the desk drawer to get to the liquor stash, but otherwise everything else was untouched. He was seated in the interview chair and had placed me in the boss’ position. I swirled my drink as he continued. “As far as we know, you haven’t infected anyone. You may still be dormant. Have you had much contact with other humans?
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“Swapped any body fluids with anybody?”
Sissy.
“Yeah,” I said again.
“Did they display any strange behaviors afterwards such as poor speech, affected mobility, and a desire to consume human flesh? I mean, hear me out. With the exception of the whole eating people thing, those are normal signs that a woman has been with me so I would understand if you thought she might have been a zombie afterwards. Just think carefully about it.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“So a little wobbly in the knees but
