J. Knoll - Zoe, Undead

The door opened and Doctor Caswell peered in, then a relieved smile took her face and she entered and strode to the girl's bed, wrapping her arms around her as she declared, "I'm so glad you're home!"

Zoe turned fully and slipped an arm around the Doctor's back, laying her head on her shoulder.

Rachel looked to Morgan and bade, "Hi there. Welcome to our base of operations."

"Thanks," Morgan offered. "Are you sure it shouldn't be the base of weirdness?"

Zoe burst into giggles and looked over her shoulder.

Doctor Caswell pulled away and took the zombie girl's shoulders. "Okay, Zoe. I need you in the lab real quick. We have something to do."

"Colonel Halstead told me I have to go to the conference room and I only have twenty more minutes to get ready."

"I already talked to him," the Doctor assured, "and he knows you're going to be a little late. Now get dressed and let's get to the lab. Have you eaten yet?" When the girl looked down and shook her head, she loosed a breath and conceded, "Okay, I'll get you something." Looking to the new arrival, she ordered, "You just make yourself at home. I think the rest of your team is already in the cafeteria, so if you're hungry you should go get something to eat."

"No problem," Morgan assured. "Um, who should I go to with a whole lot of questions?" Her eyes flitted to Zoe.

"We'll answer any questions you have." She also glanced at the zombie girl, and finally she raised her chin. "Just come and see me in the lab when Zoe and I are done and I should be able to put your mind at ease." She turned to leave and ordered, "Get dressed, Zoe, and let's get to the lab."

As the door closed, Zoe carefully set her teddy bear back in its place on her pillow, then she slid from the bed and turned to the dresser that sat on the far wall, grumbling, "I don't want to do more tests."

Morgan reached for her boots and glanced at the zombie girl as she assured, "It can't be worse than what we found you in the middle of this morning."

The laboratory was small and sterile and had only two chairs in it and an examination table. There were glass cabinets over the counter where Doctor Caswell worked and behind the doors one could see the many vials and bottles of chemicals, agents and supplies that were needed for the research that was being done.

Rachel was bent over the white counter top and looking into a microscope as a device beside her spun a small vial of black red blood to separate it into its main components. Zoe sat close by, holding a bandage over the crook of her elbow with her thumb and her arm curled in over it, and she had a sour look for the doctor she stared at. She wore Sergeant Morris' hat and had the brim pulled down so that her eyes were barely visible in the shadow past it.

Withdrawing from the microscope, Doctor Caswell raised her brow as she looked to the girl and defended, "It wasn't a shot. I drew blood."

"It's the same thing," Zoe snarled.

"Did it hurt?" the Doctor asked.

"No," the girl grudgingly admitted.

"Then what are you complaining about?"

Zoe just looked away from her.

"Look, Zoe. The secrets in your blood could very well be the end of this virus and the zombie epidemic. Don't you want that?"

"I guess," the girl grumbled.

"I have a couple of things to do, and then I'll meet you in the conference room, okay? Why don't you go to the cafeteria and get something to eat?"

"I need to go talk to Colonel Halstead first," Zoe informed as she stood. "He said he wanted to see me."

"Just don't wait too long to eat," the doctor ordered. "You still need to take your medicine."

"Yes, Doctor," Zoe sighed as she left the laboratory.

The walk to the stairs seemed like a long one, though she barely noticed as she was hopelessly lost in thought. Such things had never bothered her before, being different and all. It was just something that always was and she never really noticed. Now, she was even more different, much more.

Passing a group of civilians, four women and two men, who had sought safety in the hospital, she offered them a wave of her fingers, and in return she only got mistrusting looks, and quickly three of the women looked away from her as if they did not want to see her there at all. Further down the hallway a small group of children ran toward her, laughing and giggling with each other. They were five to seven years old, four of them, and when they saw her they stopped where they were and turned wide eyes to her. Zoe also stopped. She had always been more comfortable with children than grown-ups and she offered them a little smile and bade, "Hi." They backed up a few steps, staring at her in silence, then they turned and ran the other direction.

Zoe's heart broke as she watched them disappear around the corner of the hallway. There were things she had to do, but they slipped from her mind. She finally made it to the stairwell, but she did not stop climbing until she got up onto the roof.

Solitude was there. The make-shift shooting range was abandoned and only the hearing protection, targets and a few cans were still set up there.

She wandered to the short wall that surrounded the roof and turned to sit down with her back against it. Pulling her legs to her, she wrapped her arms around them and just stared across the roof at nothing for a while. With a deep breath, she slowly took the cap from her head and held it in front of her, flattening her legs out in front of her. She read the tag inside the cap, W. Morris , and she read it over and over. It was all she had left of him. He was one of the first who did not treat her like a monster. He was very kind to her and she felt in her heart that she loved him, then he was gone.

Tears welled up in her green eyes and her body quaked under the sobs inside of her that insisted on being known. Drawing her legs up to her again, she clutched the hat tightly in her hands and lowered her head to her knees.

And she cried.

There was no way to know how long she was up there, but she needed a good cry and wanted to be by herself. It could have been an hour or it could have been longer. She did not know, did not care. Little mattered to her but the pain of the moment, and it was all consuming.

The door to the roof burst open and people emerged. Zoe finally raised her head to see the people she had just met file out of the stairway.

Dan was first, and as he exited the door he immediately put a cigarette into his mouth and raised his other hand where a lighter was waiting to give it flame. Josh was right behind him, then Adrian, Morgan, Charlie, Matt, and Donny. Two of them, Josh and Adrian, were carrying an ice chest. The last to emerge was one she had not met, one who was still on the silver jeep during the heat of the battles. He was kind of a big fellow, clean shaven and with short hair, and he was the only one speaking.

"I'm just saying," the last one assured as he joined them, "that it's not that out of line for you guys to help clean some of the brass out of the bottom of the jeep after a fight. I mean, come on! I work hard to keep that thing up!"

Josh and Adrian dropped the ice chest, and Josh opened it and reached inside, taking a beer out as he observed, "Yeah, we're fighting zombie hoards every day and you want to make sure we keep the jeep clean. Eric, you're about as mental as they come."

Eric also reached in and took a beer opening it before he countered, "We can take out zombies and look good doing it. And let's not forget who has to keep patching you dumbasses back together every time you do something stupid."

Donny also opened a beer and shook his head, taking a drink before he grumbled, "It's like having my mother along." He looked to Eric and asked, "So, does your other half know you're up here drinking with us? Oh, that's right. She's not here."