a
half.”
Please ignore the lack of
vitals.
“And how did you contract the zombie virus?” The
silence in the courtroom was unnerving.
My real mother was infected on
purpose by Dr. Banerjee’s research team while she was pregnant with me, to see
if ZV was passed on through neonatal contact. Instead of killing me as she was
ordered to, Mom took me home and raised me as her own.
“I’m not sure. I think I was bitten at prom.”
“Bitten by whom?”
Ani shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Judge Jones’ nostrils flared. Ani hoped it wasn’t
doubt.
“And given what happened at prom, do you feel that
it’s safe to be back at school?”
Ani knocked on her helmet and gave one of her
mother’s lines. “Statistically, zombies are safer than disgruntled kids with
guns.”
Now Judge Jones smiled, but it didn’t reach her
eyes. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Ani sighed. “Whatever happened at prom came from
outside the school. It could have happened anywhere. The school’s more secure
now than it’s ever been. We’re not even contagious.” Ani heard a sharp intake
of breath, and looked at her mom, whose eyes were boring into her skull.
It wasn’t a bad comment.
“So you think it’s safe?”
“Yeah, it’s safe.” She tapped the bite guard.
A squeak caught her attention. She turned to see a
bailiff wheeling over a cart. A bucket sat on top, filled with a grayish mass. “We’re
just kids. We’re not danger—” Then the smell hit her, wet and succulent.
Nothing had smell anymore, nothing but....
Oh, God.
Nausea twisted her gut. Her head throbbed as she
tried in vain to tear her eyes from the bucket. Brains. The glistening,
gelatinous mass filled her vision and strangled her other thoughts.
“Dangerous,” she said. Please, no. Not this. Hunger tore through her. “We’re not dangerous.” A trail of slimy drool pattered
onto her blouse. I can’t...I want.. . “...Not...” need....
A moan escaped her lips.
“Miss Romero,” the Judge said. “Can you look at
me, please?”
Her eyes stayed on the bucket, on the quivering
organs. She tried to say something, but she couldn’t remember what it was, and it
came out a wheezing grunt.
“That’s enough!” her mom yelled. Then something
else. It was so hard to think.
She managed to close her eyes and stop breathing. Better.
Not good, but better. She reached a shaking hand up through the face mask,
clutched her nose, and squeezed her nostrils shut. She stayed that way for a
moment. Then another.
The world faded back in. She heard the banging
gavel and her mom yelling something about junkies and needles and shame. She
dragged her head up and forced it to turn toward the judge. She willed her eyes
straight. Not left. Don’t look left. She opened them.
Judge Jones frowned at her, the gavel hovering in
the air.
Ani swallowed enough drool to speak. “I’m not a
monster. I’m a sick girl. I need—” Brains! “—treatment.” She swallowed
again. “Please. Please take that bucket away, and,” give it to me, please,
oh, pleaseplease, “let my mom give me a shot.”
The judge stared at her, lips in a tight line. She
gave a curt nod to the policeman. “Bailiff.”
Ani’s eyes followed the bucket until her head was
forced down by a hand on her helmet. The familiar prick as the needle entered
the base of her skull was comforting, and the urge crept back into hiding.
“We’ll take a ten minute recess,” Judge Jones
said. “Doctor Romero, take your daughter home.”
They unlocked her from the witness stand and
escorted her to the same small door through which they’d entered. Before they
walked out, her mom buttoned up Ani’s suit jacket to hide the drool stain on
her blouse. “Keep your head up, but don’t say anything. Smile and wave if you
want to—closed lips. Try not to shuffle, and don’t scowl.”
Ani did her best as reporters mobbed them from the
door to the truck. Back inside, it was just Ani, her mom, and
half.”
Please ignore the lack of
vitals.
“And how did you contract the zombie virus?” The
silence in the courtroom was unnerving.
My real mother was infected on
purpose by Dr. Banerjee’s research team while she was pregnant with me, to see
if ZV was passed on through neonatal contact. Instead of killing me as she was
ordered to, Mom took me home and raised me as her own.
“I’m not sure. I think I was bitten at prom.”
“Bitten by whom?”
Ani shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Judge Jones’ nostrils flared. Ani hoped it wasn’t
doubt.
“And given what happened at prom, do you feel that
it’s safe to be back at school?”
Ani knocked on her helmet and gave one of her
mother’s lines. “Statistically, zombies are safer than disgruntled kids with
guns.”
Now Judge Jones smiled, but it didn’t reach her
eyes. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Ani sighed. “Whatever happened at prom came from
outside the school. It could have happened anywhere. The school’s more secure
now than it’s ever been. We’re not even contagious.” Ani heard a sharp intake
of breath, and looked at her mom, whose eyes were boring into her skull.
It wasn’t a bad comment.
“So you think it’s safe?”
“Yeah, it’s safe.” She tapped the bite guard.
A squeak caught her attention. She turned to see a
bailiff wheeling over a cart. A bucket sat on top, filled with a grayish mass. “We’re
just kids. We’re not danger—” Then the smell hit her, wet and succulent.
Nothing had smell anymore, nothing but....
Oh, God.
Nausea twisted her gut. Her head throbbed as she
tried in vain to tear her eyes from the bucket. Brains. The glistening,
gelatinous mass filled her vision and strangled her other thoughts.
“Dangerous,” she said. Please, no. Not this. Hunger tore through her. “We’re not dangerous.” A trail of slimy drool pattered
onto her blouse. I can’t...I want.. . “...Not...” need....
A moan escaped her lips.
“Miss Romero,” the Judge said. “Can you look at
me, please?”
Her eyes stayed on the bucket, on the quivering
organs. She tried to say something, but she couldn’t remember what it was, and it
came out a wheezing grunt.
“That’s enough!” her mom yelled. Then something
else. It was so hard to think.
She managed to close her eyes and stop breathing. Better.
Not good, but better. She reached a shaking hand up through the face mask,
clutched her nose, and squeezed her nostrils shut. She stayed that way for a
moment. Then another.
The world faded back in. She heard the banging
gavel and her mom yelling something about junkies and needles and shame. She
dragged her head up and forced it to turn toward the judge. She willed her eyes
straight. Not left. Don’t look left. She opened them.
Judge Jones frowned at her, the gavel hovering in
the air.
Ani swallowed enough drool to speak. “I’m not a
monster. I’m a sick girl. I need—” Brains! “—treatment.” She swallowed
again. “Please. Please take that bucket away, and,” give it to me, please,
oh, pleaseplease, “let my mom give me a shot.”
The judge stared at her, lips in a tight line. She
gave a curt nod to the policeman. “Bailiff.”
Ani’s eyes followed the bucket until her head was
forced down by a hand on her helmet. The familiar prick as the needle entered
the base of her skull was comforting, and the urge crept back into hiding.
“We’ll take a ten minute recess,” Judge Jones
said. “Doctor Romero, take your daughter home.”
They unlocked her from the witness stand and
escorted her to the same small door through which they’d entered. Before they
walked out, her mom buttoned up Ani’s suit jacket to hide the drool stain on
her blouse. “Keep your head up, but don’t say anything. Smile and wave if you
want to—closed lips. Try not to shuffle, and don’t scowl.”
Ani did her best as reporters mobbed them from the
door to the truck. Back inside, it was just Ani, her mom, and
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