Zombie (WIP)

Chapter Three

Bug Bites and Zombie Experts

When I first saw the bite in the crook of my neck, I was... angry. I wasn't angry at the person who showed me. I wasn't angry at the doctors who couldn't do anything to fix it. I wasn't even angry at the Zombie who bit me. I was angry at the bite.

I hated the look of the bite. I hated how you could tell that it was a Zombie Bite. I hated how I the flesh was gone. I hated everything about it. But there was nothing I could do about it...and it angered me.

For a while, I let the anger boil. I tried to get used to the bite. Because let's face it, it wasn't going anywhere. But then I started noticing things around me. Nurses wouldn't come close to me. Doctors shook in pure fear when they came near. Other patients avoided me. My loving, caring mother did her best not to stare at the dark red hole in my neck. However, she always failed.

Soon I got tired of it. I was tired of everyone being afraid of me. I was tired of the nasty bite grabbing everyone's attention. I was tired of it telling them that I had been turned into a monster. So, I wanted it gone. 

 Furious, I dug my dead, numb fingers into the hole in my neck. I felt nothing. No pain, no sting, nothing. I then started to move my fingers around. I should have been screaming in pain. But there was nothing to scream about. I can't tell you how long this went on. I just remember a nurse walking into the room, screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Zoey the Zombie girl had covered herself with her own blood because she tried to remove her wound. 

I had thought that was the reason for "the accident". Although, after a few more days of awkward silence between me and the nurses, I had come to realize that I wasn't trying to remove the bite. I was just trying to feel something other than anger. I didn't hate the Zombie bite as much as I thought I had. Instead, I hated how everyone was treating me. Everyone acted as though I had been turned into a flesh-eating monster and the bite mark was my name tag. 

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I gaze at the missing flesh every morning. I don't really know why I do. It had just became a habit. Lately, I find myself hoping that the flesh would come back to rest on the side of my neck and everything in my life would go back to normal...

But even I know that will never become reality. 

Although, it is nice to dream and since Zombies don't actually sleep, daydreaming is all I have left. Mom has started to notice my dreaming. She doesn't say anything about it mostly due to the fact that she doesn't know what to say. I guess that is why she hired Dr. Ray Morris; or what I like to refer to him as "Zombie Expert".

Mr. Zombie Expert comes over twice a week (Tuesdays and Saturdays) just to see how I am doing. Usually, he knows what to say. But I suppose that is because his son was one of the first victims in the Zombie Epidemic, and like any loving parent would do, Mr. Zombie Expert spent days and nights trying to help his son before the inevitable happened. Then one morning, he discovered that he was too late.

Now, half a year later, Dr. Ray Morris (A.K.A Zombie Expert) helps those who are sick from the nasty bug bites and apparently those who are dead from the bug bites as well. But, to be honest, he's just after the same thing all of the other doctors are; a cure. That's what everyone is searching for. Well, everyone except me. Because let's face it, you only live once.

Today is Tuesday. I thought. I hate Tuesdays. 

Yes, as great as the famous Zombie Expert sounds, I hate my appointments with him. I don't hate them because of he's a bad guy or anything. I just don't like the idea of my Mom walking in every five minutes to check out the famous Zombie Expert. But of course, she doesn't claim to be 'checking him out' as I claim her to be doing. Instead, she is just simply 'checking up on us' and unfortunately, 'us' means 'his butt'.