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Now it may sound silly (and in retrospect, it was pretty ridiculous to have one of the most innocuous
animals on the planet standing up on its pudgy back legs and clawing at you), but one bite or even a
scratch from these things and I was as much toast as Dave.
I plunged into the room, squashing the little rodents as I went, ignoring their squeals as I stomped them
and kicked them across the room. There s nothing like watching a rabid guinea pig go cartwheeling
across a room with a little squeal, I ll tell you that.
The purple vial was on the other side of the lab, already attached to a syringe for the robot arms to
collect and use to nullify the infection on the guinea pigs. I reached it as the last remaining zombie pig
made a kamikaze leap onto my leg. I slammed it away with the barrel of my gun and grabbed the purple
serum.
As I ran past Barnes in the hallway, I didn t stop. He d been too sure I was going to inject him to lie and I
didn t have time to see if he was zombiefied by what I carried with me or not. I just had to trust, and pray
this was actually the cure.
I ran through the twisting halls and finally found my way back to the lab where Dave and I had fought the
bionics. As I skidded into the room, I looked at my husband.
He had managed to drag himself across the room and was propped up in a sitting position on the wall
with his hand dangling at his side. A great idea since the blood would have to work harder to infect him.
His eyes were shut, though, and I stared.
Was I too late? Had the infection spread faster& there wasn t any standard litmus for the time, of
course, just some basic guidelines. Different people, different body chemistry.
Are you going to give me that, or just stand there and watch me go all living dead? he grunted without
opening his eyes.
Oh shit, I breathed, my heart finally starting to beat again. I rushed to his side and dropped down with
the syringe in my hand. I was just about to depress the plunger when a voice at the door stopped me.
If you inject him, I ll blow his brains all over that wall.
I turned and found Barnes in the doorway, the bloody rifle I d shot out of his hand earlier now trained at
us again. He was leaning against the frame, his damaged hand still half-wrapped in his lab coat. Not that
it did him much good. He was still dripping blood across the floor and the front of his lab coat was bright
with ugly red splotches.
You didn t kill him? Dave asked, his voice strained.
I looked at my husband. His skin was gray and his lips were starting to tinge black. We had moments,
maybe even just seconds before he was gone.
Let me do this! I screamed at Barnes. Don t you want to know if it works on humans?
The doctor chuckled. Oh, it does. I ve tested it many times before. On both fully infected subjects and
on those who haven t yet turned. It was the long-infected subjects I hadn t played with yet. Do you know
what happens once a person goes full zombie?
He didn t wait for me to ask.
It turns out they lose most of their brain cells almost instantly. So if I wait for you to return him to
normal until after he s become the living dead, then I get to watch you both suffer.
I stared at him. Barnes looked perfectly serious and my stomach dropped. The idea that Dave could be
saved, but would still be irrevocably compromised, made my hands shake.
Why?
You ruined my research, he said and then he lifted his hand. And you took my thumb. And I have
worked too hard and for too long to give it all up for
He didn t get to finish. As he started into what looked to be a long, villainous monologue that wouldn t
end until Dave did, there was the explosion of rapid gunfire behind him.
Barnes s eyes went wide with shock and disbelief before he tipped forward and landed face first on the
floor. The two holes in the back of his head told the story.
Behind him was The Kid, holding a smoking gun. Tears streamed down his face.
Fix him! he demanded, motioning to Dave with the barrel of his gun. Hurry!
I jammed the needle into Dave s arm and depressed the plunger. He sucked in his breath and stiffened
beneath me. His head began to twitch and he grimaced as whatever I d put into him moved through his
bloodstream.
The Kid lowered his weapon and we both watched. Waited. Finally, Dave opened his eyes. And they
were green, not black. Not red. Not filled with a desire to overtake and feed.
Hey, he said, and his voice was normal, not strained anymore or garbled by growing infection.
Hi, I whispered as I moved toward him.
I m okay, he said softly.
With a sob, I dropped down and hugged him as hard as I could. You re okay.
Fake it til you make it. Just make it.
We stayed at the lab for over a week. Long enough to bury Barnes (for The Kid s sake, if nothing else)
and ensure that the cure that had saved David wasn t temporary.
But after lunch on the seventh day, The Kid took us up the elevator and we all stepped into the bright,
warm sunlight. Dave and I stared as Robbie motioned toward the same SUV we d been carried in just a
few days later.
Take it, he said softly. You earned it.
I spun on The Kid with a gasp. Take it? What do you mean?
He shrugged. You can t stay here forever.
Dave nodded as he clutched his still-bandaged hand against his chest. The wound was slow to heal,
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