Molly: Reemergence: Zombie Instinct

CHAPTER 1

Dr. Hall

Dr . Patricia Hall silently stood on the other side of the glass partition, observing the source of all the trouble at this lab. Tapping the toe of her polished black pump, her irritation was palatable to everyone in the room.

Lieutenant Parker, explain to me again how Dr. Reeves is dead, and you ended up locked in the patient’s cell with dead guards all around you?

Like I said, ma’am, suppressed anger bled into his tone, "the subject, Molly, is incredibly strong and faster than anything I’ve ever seen. She’s like quicksilver. Once she attacked, it was over in seconds. There wasn’t much we could do. After all, we are just humans fighting against Alpha zombies."

Patricia rubbed her temples with her fingertips—she didn’t have the energy or patience to deal with uppity security personnel right now. I don’t care, I really don’t. But there will be no mistakes this time. These two Alphas are more valuable than your life—they are the key to our survival. I hope even you can grasp the concept of their importance.

Yes, ma’am. His face was a stone mask, but she knew that inside, he was seething in anger. She didn’t have the time, or frankly, the desire, to worry about his hurt feelings.

I want both subjects under twenty-four-seven observation since, apparently, the cameras aren’t enough.

I’ll have three guards in each room, but I’m warning you . . . we are getting dangerously low on personnel. Between the attacks and losing men in the field, I only have so many bodies. We’re all pulling twelve-hour shifts as it is.

Lieutenant Parker, I understand you have challenges, but I trust a smart man like you will be able to overcome them. I’ll see if I can pull some more men from one of the other labs for you, but I make no guarantees.

He turned and left the room without another word, the set of his shoulders alone telling her all she needed to know about his opinion of her. With the man gone, she returned her attention to the subject secured to the table in front of her. She’d been shot three times in the chest, her lungs ripped apart from the bullets. Under normal conditions, the shots wouldn’t even slow down an Alpha, but according to Dr. Reeves’ notes, this one, Molly, was refusing to feed.

I can see why he found you so fascinating, Patricia murmured. The subject’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her body under immense stress from the injuries and lack of energy. You’re going to feed if I have to force the meat down your throat. I forbid you to die. You’re much too valuable to the program.

The doctor double-checked the straps that restrained her to the table. They’d added two more after she’d seen the video of how easily this one had escaped last time. The hope was, in her weakened state, the extra straps would be more than enough to hold her. Her instincts were to take her vitals and record them, but of course, that information was useless. No Alpha, or any zombie actually, exhibited blood pressure and heart rates as humans do. Their hearts beat so slowly that most monitors couldn’t track them.

Leaving the room, she glared at the guards stationed there. No more screw-ups, gentleman. Am I understood?

Yes, ma’am, all three responded in unison.

With a headache forming at her temples, Dr. Hall decided to take an hour in her room and lie down. The stress of the day was taking its toll on her.

Molly

I’m sitting on the couch in my living room with no idea how I got here. I looked down at my hands, the fine lines tracing along my palms fascinating me for a reason I didn’t understand. Something was wrong. The source of the odd feeling was just out of my grasp, a shadow slithering along the wall, seen but formless.

Looking around the room in confusion, I took in my familiar surroundings. The table and chairs in the kitchen behind me, the end table with my pottery bowl that held my keys near the door, and even the light pouring in from the French doors behind me looked the same. The same as what, though?

Standing, I walked down the hallway toward my bedroom and bathroom. I ran my hand along the wall, stopping at the midway point. Was I dreaming? I didn’t feel like I was asleep. Running my hand down the wall toward the floor, I touched the soft carpet as well. Something here was missing? But what? I was getting more frustrated and confused by the minute.

Opening the door to the bathroom, I cautiously walked in, heading directly to the vanity and its mirror. I stared at my reflection—my brow furrowed in concentration as I attempted to figure out what the fuck was going on here. I looked the same, black hair, smooth pale skin, straight white teeth, and hazel eyes. All my features were the same as ever, so what was wrong?

This is so fucking weird. What the hell is going on? I ran both hands through my short hair, sending it into disarray. Leaving the bathroom, I slowly made my way into my bedroom. Just like the living room, everything here was in its place, neat and tidy. Though wrong somehow. I couldn’t place it. The light shining onto the bedspread was warm and golden. Standing beside the bed, I placed my hand on the fabric and into the sun, but the light felt cold.

What the ever-loving fuck all is going on?

Looking up, I saw shadows begin to form in the corners of the room and along the walls, stretching and reaching further than seemed possible. Twisting my head around, I looked out the window and saw the sun being swallowed by a cloud of ash and fire. As I stared into my backyard, shapes appeared from the thick black shadows. Jerking and twisting, they became more solid the longer I watched. I was unable to take my eyes off them. They slipped free from the darkness like they were pulling themselves from sticky taffy. Arms and legs appeared, then torsos and heads. They were people!

Hey! What’s going on? I shouted. Their heads swiveled in my direction, and the hairs on my arms stood up. There was something seriously fucking wrong here. Those that weren’t naked had tattered rags of clothing hanging from their bodies. The closer they drew to me, the more detail I could make out. With gray skin and blue lips, their bodies may have once been human, but that time had long since passed. They formed groups, their coordination and speed growing as more and more joined together.

Terror settled into the pit of my stomach, cold and hard inside me. My instincts kicked in, forcing me to shut and lock the window, drawing the curtains closed before I retreated to the bathroom, securing and locking that door as well.

I stood at the sink, my hands gripping the cold porcelain sides as my heart raced in my chest. Sweat dotted my face and ran down the back of my neck, dampening the hair, so it stuck to my skin.

What’s happening? I glanced up into the mirror and stumbled backward in terror.

My skin was gray, my lips blue. Holding out trembling hands, I saw my fingernails were also a deep shade of blue. I could hear the groups of them outside. I could feel their hunger. Then I felt it. The need, the want. The desperate craving.

I was ravenous.

Visions of blood and warm, wet meat filled my mind. Half-imagined screams filled my ears, though they felt more like a memory. Stomach cramping with starvation, I jerked the door open, my strength ripping it off the hinges. I could taste blood in my mouth, a coppery tinge settling on the back of my tongue. Swallowing, desperate for more of the salty taste, I left the house and joined the others.

Together, we hunted. All thoughts of who I was fell away, disappearing under the intensity of my hunger, my drive to feed. All that remained was the animal within and the instincts that drove me. Molly was gone, and in her place was a monster.

CHAPTER 2

Dr. Hall

The insistent beeping of her alarm woke Dr . Hall . Slapping at the clock, she shut it off and sat up. Rubbing her face, she rose, stepped back into her shoes, and shrugged into her lab coat. A quick glance in the mirror to tidy her hair and she was ready to go. Grabbing her tablet on the way out her door, she typed in her code and unlocked the screen. A message alert caught her attention immediately. Tapping the icon to open it, she read quickly, and the information contained within caused her heart to beat a little faster. Finally .

Hurrying down the hallway to the lab, her heels clacked on the concrete and echoed the sound back to her. She didn’t think of the gunshots and screams that had so recently filled these hallways. They didn’t matter to her. That was then, and this was now. Nothing beyond this moment was of any significance to her. The guards and staff were expendable, their lives meaningless when compared to the research she was doing. They were a means to an end and nothing more.

Arriving at the lab, she pushed open the doors and hurried to the gurney bolted to the floor in the center of the room. An assistant stood by, awaiting her orders.

I see in the file this gentleman is Mr. John Sellings. He’s forty-seven years old and has volunteered for this. Am I correct, Mr. Sellings?

Yes, ma’am. There’s no reason not to. I’m going to die anyway. I might as well have my death mean something.

Please, call me Dr. Hall. I understand you suffer from stage four non-small cell lung cancer, correct? She kept her hands clutching the tablet behind her back as she leaned closer to the man restrained on the bed. He was pale and nearly skeletal. In the time before, even modern medicine would have been hard-pressed to save him. Now? Forget it. There was no hope, nothing awaiting him but a slow and painful death.

Yes, that’s correct. He gasped and then began to cough and choke. It sounded incredibly painful.

Start him on oxygen, please, she ordered the assistant. The silent and efficient man pulled a mask down over Mr. Selling’s mouth and nose which seemed to ease his breathing slightly. In a pre-apocalypse hospital, the patient would be on monitors tracking his heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation, but now there was only an electrocardiogram.

Mr. Sellings—John. May I call you John? He nodded in response, unable to speak yet. She attempted to put him at ease. Please don’t try to talk. Just respond with a nod or shake of your head. Do you understand?

The patient nodded again, holding the mask tight to his face as if the oxygen was his lifeline. At this moment, it probably was.

I’m going to inject you with a genetically modified version of the virus. There was no need to explain which virus. There was only one virus that mattered anymore. If it does its job correctly, when you reanimate, you will become an Alpha. If not, you will be a regular zombie. If the worst should happen, I assure you, we will not let you remain in that state. Do you consent to this experiment?

He responded with a single nod, though his eyes were wide with fear, and his hands were trembling.

Okay, John, we will proceed then. Please, restrain him. She kept saying his name on purpose. Even though she’d never met this man before today, she felt it was important to humanize him. He was sacrificing his life for this experiment—she did not take that lightly. John, I apologize for the restraints, but I’m sure you understand this is for our own safety.

He pulled the mask off to the side, Of c-co-course. You can’t have me eating your f-fin-fine assistant he-here. He again struggled for air, his breath rattling through his chest and out his mouth in coughs that racked his whole body.

Slipping on a pair of gloves and a surgical mask, she walked to the cooler where a single prepared syringe waited. Would you please ask Lieutenant Parker to join us? Just in case we need his assistance?

Without a word, the assistant used the phone and made a quiet call. While she waited for the lieutenant, Dr. Hall prepared John’s arm for the injection, swabbing his skin with alcohol several times. He was about to die, so it seemed almost pointless to protect him from an unlikely infection from the needle, but there was a ritual in it. The normalcy of the routine calmed her nerves.