Scene 1 – Safehouse – My Question]
She replied me,"Yes all zombies can."
Her voice is still echoing in my head.
"Yes all zombies can."
The sound of words from her mouth is wrong — unnatural. But the thing that really gets me?
She doesn't look like she's in pain. She doesn't look hungry. She just… looks at me. Like she's waiting for me to figure something out.
I lean against the workbench, trying to ignore the sting in my arm where I sliced myself. My blood is drying in a thick crust.
Finally, I push myself upright and face her.
"I saw you," I say slowly, my voice sounding harsher than I intended. "Two nights ago. You were with three other girls. One was slow… still human-looking. Another was fast — the kind that sprints at you without thinking. The third…"
I pause, remembering the claws, the hunched back, the way it breathed. "…she was… different."
Her eyes don't leave mine.
I point at her. "Why were you roaming with three girls from three different levels?"
The words slip out before I realize what I've just done.
My own stupid classification — the 'levels' — is just something I came up with to make sense of this nightmare. It's not official. It's not in some government report.
No zombie or human should know about it.
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[Scene 2 – Her Answer]
She blinks once. Twice. Then she says it — clear as day:
"They're my sisters."
I actually laugh — the kind of laugh that comes when you're too tired to care if you sound insane. "Your sisters? That's not possible."
Her expression doesn't change. "It is."
I crouch down in front of her, close enough to see the dried blood under her fingernails. "Explain. Now."
She doesn't hesitate.
"The slow one… she cries at night. She still remembers our parents. That's why she doesn't kill unless she has to."
A chill crawls up my spine.
"The fast one — she never stops moving. She says if she keeps running, the hunger doesn't catch her."
Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact.
"And the one with claws?" I ask, my throat tight.
Her gaze drops to the floor for the first time. "…She doesn't like you."
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[Scene 3 – My Doubt]
I stand up and step back. My head is pounding. None of this makes sense. Zombies don't "like" or "dislike." They don't talk about parents. They don't call each other sisters.
"You expect me to believe you remember being human?" I ask.
She lifts her chin. "I remember everything."
Her words are like a punch to the chest. I want to call her a liar, but part of me… part of me believes her. I've seen Level Ones hesitate. I've seen them cry. But never like this. Never this… aware.
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[Scene 4 – The Warning]
I cross my arms, my eyes locked on hers. "Then tell me something useful. Why are you here? Why didn't you attack me when you saw me?"
She tilts her head, her hair falling into her face. "Because I knew you'd bring me here."
Every hair on my neck stands on end. "How the hell could you know that?"
"Because," she says, leaning forward as far as the restraints will let her, "you're curious. And curiosity kills you faster than we do."
The words hang in the air like smoke.
Then she adds, almost gently:
"If my sisters find me here… you won't survive the night."
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[Scene 5 – The Sound Outside]
Silence.
Then… crunch.
Footsteps outside. Slow. Heavy.
I freeze, listening. One set. Two. Three…
Exactly three.
My hand goes to the machete strapped to my leg. I move toward the steel door, my pulse hammering in my ears. The footsteps are getting closer.
"They're here," she says softly.
I lock the door, chain it, and back away. My eyes dart between her and the sound outside.
The scraping stops.
Then a voice — low, distorted — whispers from just beyond the door.
"Give her back."
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