Derek Goodman - The Reanimation of Edward Schuett

It wasn’t like the movies. Edward didn’t wake up right away, sitting up straight in bed and screaming at the horrible nightmare he’d just had. He came out of it gradually, and his subconscious tried desperately to keep wakefulness from coming. Part of him might have been aware that he should be sleeping for much longer, that the mere two hours of sleep should not have been anywhere near enough for him to feel so rested. Another part of him, however, didn’t want to let the dream go. It had been comforting. It had been like home, completely unlike where he was when he came fully awake.

The room was uncomfortably small, and even with only the small bed that had been brought in it still felt cramped. There were no toilet or shower facilities. After all, if the few cryptic things Liddie had said when they brought him in late at night were any indication, this room wasn’t intended for a breathing human to live in anyway. It was simply the best the CRS had been able to set up for him on such short notice. The room smelled of disinfectant, but underneath that Edward thought he could still smell something comforting and sweet. Something like honey. Up until recently, another zombie had been in here.

He knew the fact that he could tell that should have bothered him, but he had other issues right now. Even if he looked like a normal human, had a heartbeat like a normal human, and had to eat (more or less) like a normal human, his bowels were still apparently closer to that of a zombie. He had soiled himself in his sleep.

He got up from the bed and grimaced as he stood. He’d stripped down to just his pants while he’d slept. Normally he would have slept in just his underwear, but he was pretty certain that somewhere in this room there were cameras watching him. He hadn’t wanted to give anyone a free show. That choice had kept the mess from getting on his bed, but instead it was all over the back of his pants. He could feel it sticking to his skin. He went over to the door, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling all up and down the back of his legs, and knocked.

Liddie had told him to just let anyone outside the door know if he needed anything, that they would provide him with any food or take him to a bathroom or shower, that they would even provide him with entertainment once they had a more permanent room set up for him. Edward understood that the implication of all that, even if Liddie herself didn’t understand or at least acknowledge it, was that he was not able to leave the room on his own accord. Just to test that theory, he tried to open the door by himself now. It was locked.

There was an observational window in the door, but the view was blocked by a sliding panel from the other side. He could hear footsteps from the other side, and he took a deep breath as he tried to think how he would say what he needed. This wasn’t exactly a situation he had a lot of practice in, and he didn’t want to talk about it any more than he had to. Zombie virus or not, this was not something a grown man should have to worry about. He even considered maybe not saying anything and just pretending nothing had happened. He might save some face that way, although he realized that would only be for a little while. There wouldn’t be much time before the stink made his embarrassing situation quite obvious.

The panel slid aside, and Liddie smiled through at him. There were bags under her eyes, but nothing else about her made her look tired.

“Hi,” she said. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Um, no. I think I’m done for now.”

Liddie frowned. “You only slept for two hours.”

“Well, I don’t feel tired.”

“So was there something you needed?”

Edward opened his mouth but didn’t say anything yet. Just what the hell was he supposed to tell her? “Is…is there someone I could speak to about something?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“No, I mean, uh, about something I need.”

“Right here. I volunteered to be the first one to look after you. Just consider me your liaison for any and all needs.”

Edward bit his lip. He couldn’t tell her. If he were talking to a man on the other side, then maybe he could say something, albeit in a very quiet manner with as many euphemisms as possible. Her mother would have been even better. That woman had, after all, already probed him for all the intimate details about this sort of thing. Liddie, on the other hand, just didn’t seem like someone he could talk to about this.

“Really, I need to talk to someone else,” he said.

“Whatever it is, I can help.”

“No, not with this.”

“What, you don’t think I can do it? Whatever it is, I’m just as capable of taking care of the problem as anyone else around here. Or do you not trust me?”

“I’m not sure if I trust anyone around here yet.”

“Not even me?”

“I don’t really know you, Liddie. But you do seem more trustworthy than some.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Damn it, Liddie. It’s…it’s a personal problem.”

“Oh.” Liddie’s frown disappeared and her face softened. Even though Edward didn’t think there was anyone else in the hallway to hear, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is it that one thing you had a problem with before?”

“Um, I’m not sure. Which one thing would that be?”

“The thing in your file. You know…the pants thing.”

Edward backed away from the door with a horrified expression. “I already have a file? And that’s already in it?”

“Look, it’s not a big deal. If that’s the problem, then—”

“No. I’m fine. Really. There’s nothing wrong.”

“Edward. It’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“This isn’t right. I shouldn’t have to deal with this. None of this is right.”

“Edward, listen to me. It’s okay. We can take care of it. I can even make sure this doesn’t go in your file, at least not this time.”

Edward didn’t look at her for nearly a minute. She stayed on the other side, not moving, waiting patiently for him to talk again.

“This is all bullshit,” Edward said finally. He wasn’t quite sure what he was referring to at the moment. It could be his accident, or his situation, or just everything in general. Liddie didn’t ask for him to elaborate.

“I know it is. Let me help you fix it, okay?”

There was a click as she unlocked the door. Edward quickly threw on a shirt and exited the room, walking carefully so none of the mess in his pants dislodged and fell on the floor. This was already horrifying enough as it was without leaving a trail of shit all the way to the bathroom.

Edward had gotten a quick look at some of the CRS facilities when they had brought him in, but once the van had pulled up at the back door of some moderately tall skyscraper the people who were waiting for him hadn’t allowed him to stop long enough to look. He knew from the drive in that the building was somewhere in the center of the city—the very center, according to Liddie’s idle chatter—and he’d been able to piece together from various other clues that the lower floors of the building housed Land’s End University. The upper floors belonged solely to the Center for Reanimation Studies. He’d been ushered right through a series of non-descript hallways to an elevator that his handlers had to operate with a key. Although he didn’t know exactly which floor he was on, it had to be somewhere near the top. The elevator ride had been very long.

After that he’d been quickly brought to his room, so now was his first chance to see the facilities that were, for lack of a better term, his new home. He’d expected a sterile, drab series of hallways with no real decoration, and other than a few random generic landscape paintings on the walls he was right.