---
*Knock Knock*
"Hello, is anyone there?"
Adam knocked at the door of the makeshift hospital, waiting for a reply from the other side. He got none. Wriggling the doorknob, the door clicked open. The smell of drugs and chemicals lingered, though faint, almost as if suppressed. He made his way up the stairs, searching for Michael, but found no trace of him—not even in his office.
Coming downstairs, he could only think of one place Michael could be: the basement. He knew he wasn't supposed to disturb him there, but he thought that if he entered slowly, he wouldn't disrupt whatever experiments Michael was conducting.
As he descended, he saw a human figure on a surgical table, with Michael standing over it, his back turned. Michael didn't notice Adam enter. Adam stood at the doorway, doing his best not to make a sound. Michael worked away, oblivious to Adam's presence. Then, the figure on the table turned its head, as if sensing him.
Adam froze. It wasn't a patient—it was a zombie. It began snarling and growling at Adam, which made Michael turn sharply to see him.
"Ahh, Mr. Adam, what are you doing here? Weren't you told not to come to the basement?"
"Yeah, I was, but that's not the point right now. What in the actual fuck is a zombie doing down here? No, more importantly, what are you doing to it?" Adam's voice was laced with fear as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Doubts about Haven's safety began to creep into his mind.
"Don't be worried, ehn. Mrs. Evelyn knows about it. It's for research purposes. Come, let's go to my office and talk." Michael still wore his usual smile as he removed his gloves and left the room.
---
Now in the office—which was the attic—Adam sat opposite Michael, who was jotting notes on paper, seemingly recording data. When he finished, Michael looked up at Adam.
"So, Adam, what do you want to know?"
"First of all, why do you have a zombie down there?"
"As I said, it's for research purposes."
"Yeah, but what if it bites you or something?"
"That isn't possible. You didn't notice?"
"Notice what?"
"We've pulled out its teeth, so it can't bite."
"Okay... It's still dangerous, though. It could cause a panic if everyone finds out."
"Are you saying you're going to snitch?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, I didn't... Forget that. Tell me about this apocalypse—what caused it?"
"Well, it all began when some researchers went to the Arctic to document the melting ice there. During their testing, they found all sorts of organisms, viruses, and bacteria frozen over time. And guess what? They decided to do further research. I may be a scientist, but the Nigerian in me would have destroyed those things immediately. I mean, you hear 'virus'—what's good about a virus? Wasn't Ebola enough? Anyway, they ran tests and even experimented on lab rats, which yielded astounding scientific results. Results I wish we didn't see."
"What kind of results?" Adam asked, now leaning forward in his chair.
"Well, it gave the rats enhanced physical strength, reflexes, and so on. In some cases, they were even smarter. And guess what?"
"What?"
*Sigh*
"The military big shots decided to test it on humans to make the 'perfect soldier.' I mean, gosh, who the hell put them in charge? Anyway, it worked."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Yeah, it worked. A test subject was sent to each continent—excluding Antarctica, of course."
"So, if it worked, how come we're in this mess?"
"Well, call it God's punishment or just fate, but something in the human DNA didn't click with it. The soldiers became feral, blah blah blah, infecting lots of people until they dropped dead. But the damage had already been done."
"And all this was how long ago?"
"About six months or so."
"Huh... So hasn't there been anything heard? Maybe like a message saying to go somewhere? Or a cure?"
"There was a message advising people to head to unpopulated areas, but that message was taken down. Imagine hearing that while being in China. As for a cure—that's what I'm working on. But I neither have the necessary equipment nor the last material needed."
"And what's the last ingredient?"
"The DNA of one of the originals. But, as I said, they all dropped dead."
"So, we're stuck in this hell forever."
"Nope. In Nigeria, there's a saying that goes, no condition is permanent. So have faith. This isn't the end for humanity."
Adam wasn't so sure about that but decided to believe—it was easier than dwelling on despair.
"Okay... So I have another question. Do you have—"
"Something for your amnesia? Yes, I do. I was informed by Evelyn."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Follow me down to the ba—"
Ring Ring
The shrill ringing of the red telephone interrupted him. Michael sat back down, picked up the receiver, and answered.
"Hello?"
"Yes. I see. I'll take the necessary steps."
He dropped the phone, and Adam could tell something had gone terribly wrong. The usual smile on Michael's face had been replaced with dread.
"What happened?" Adam asked.
"We are being attacked."
---
At the gates, Evelyn stood outside with Tabitha by her side. Marcus had been held hostage by the intruders.
A man with a scar across his left eye, smoking a cigar, seemed to be the leader. He spoke to Evelyn.
"Hello, I'm Martinelli, and I want us to have a chat."
"We'll chat once you get rid of the dirt you dragged in. I know what you want, so take care of this, then we'll talk."
As she finished, he whistled a tune, and nearly 50 of his men revealed themselves. Those who stood with him followed suit. Marcus, watching this, berated himself for letting his detection skills rot. The group advanced toward the zombies, armed with knives of all sorts, taking each and every one of them down with precision. They had clearly been on the road for a while.
"Now that the problem is gone, I want you to keep up your end of the bargain."
"Right. Let's go inside, and then we'll talk."
"No, Mrs... What's your name?"
"Evelyn."
"Evelyn. Did I pronounce it well? Forgive my accent." He grinned. "You see, we want you to relinquish control of this place. We've been eyeing you guys for a long, long time. When I sent my men to reason with yours, you killed them and took their heads."
"Your men fired at us first," Tabitha interrupted, anger lacing her voice.
"Hmm... Little miss perfect, it would be better for all of us if you kept quiet, hmm? So, where was I? Yes... If you cannot give us control, it's fine. Totally reasonable. But you see, I'm not a bad guy, so... if you give me the guy who chopped off the heads of my men, I'll only take half of what's here." He smiled wider.
'I do want to get rid of that damnable bastard. But not like this, and not in front of the two of them. And I can't give half of what we have. That's absurd.'
After giving it great thought, Evelyn made her judgment.
"Not happening."
"Wow... And I actually thought you were reasonable. If that's how it's going to be, I'm just going to have to kill your sniper, then." He pointed his pistol at Marcus's temple and cocked the gun.
"On the count of three."
"One..."
"Two..."
"Two and a half..."
Marcus's eyes widened, but Evelyn didn't flinch.
"Three."