[Scene 1 – Present Day – Alleyway]
The smile is still burned into my mind.
Zombies don't smile. They snarl, they drool, they tear.
They don't smile.
That was two days ago. Since then, I've been patrolling the same streets, hoping to catch another glimpse of that Level Four and its… entourage. But it's gone.
What I find instead is something worse.
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[Scene 2 – The First Sight]
I spot her from fifty feet away, standing in the middle of a cracked road.
A girl. Couldn't be more than nineteen. Blood stains her shirt, and her hands hang loosely at her sides. Her skin is pale, lips dry.
I understand from her wearings that she was that level 4.
Her eyes… they're cloudy, but not dead.
She sees me. Doesn't rush. Doesn't moan. Just… tilts her head.
I grip my machete tighter. By now, it's instinct — see a zombie, kill a zombie. End it before it gets close.
But I don't move.
I've killed hundreds, and yet something in my gut tells me to wait.
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[Scene 3 – The Approach]
She steps forward. Slow. Careful.
Her nostrils flare like she's smelling me.
Then, the strangest thing happens — she stops and struck down to the ground like she has no energy. Just five feet away. I could take her head off in one swing. She has not even the power to resist. She's waiting.
My heartbeat feels too loud.
"Why aren't you attacking?" I whisper.
No answer. Just a faint tremor in her jaw, like she's fighting something inside her.
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[Scene 4 – The Decision]
I don't know why I do it.
Maybe it's because of that smile two days ago.
Maybe I'm losing my mind.
Instead of killing her, I lunge forward, grab her arms, and twist them behind her back. She thrashes for a second — but not like she's trying to break free. More like she's startled.
I drag her to my safehouse — an old workshop with steel doors and chains on the inside. I tie her to a heavy chair, wrapping duct tape around her wrists and ankles until I'm sure she can't move.
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[Scene 5 – My tentative safehouse]
I sit in front of her, breathing hard. She watches me the entire time, head tilted slightly, like she's studying me.
I roll up my sleeve. My knife is sharp.
One clean slice down my forearm, just deep enough to open flesh. Blood wells instantly.
I am thinking,"What am I doing? Saving the life of a zombie or am I preparing the process of my death?"
Her eyes snap to it. Her breathing changes — deeper, faster. She tugs at the restraints, teeth bared.
I cut a small strip of skin and muscle from my arm. The pain hits me hard, but I push through. I place it on a metal plate and slide it toward her.
She sniffs. Opens her mouth. Takes it in her teeth.
But she doesn't lunge for more. She chews slowly. Swallows. Then leans back.
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[Scene 6 – The Shift]
Minutes pass.
Her breathing slows. Her eyes blink — twice, three times — like she's waking up from a dream.
Then she does something no zombie should ever do.
She speaks.
Her voice is cracked, broken, but the words are clear:
"...Why… me?"
I am shocked.
I asked her,"You can speak?"
My blood runs cold upon hearing her reply.
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