Cured [ManxMan]

Chapter Thirty

I did not return to the herd.

When they arrived to find me there surrounded by dead zombies with no human in sight, they gave me strange looks. Their memories were not great—not that mine was much better—but they knew I hadn't behaved the way a zombie was supposed to, and they were wary of me.

I decided it was for the better anyway. I didn't want to be influenced by them, didn't want the monotony of life in the herd to rob me of the few things I could still remember, didn't want to return to being a mindless zombie. I may not have much of my mind left, but I wanted to keep it.

So I stayed to myself, avoiding any zombies I ran across and setting up camp in a building near where I'd helped the human family. I spent my time wandering the streets alone, thinking, trying to remember—though that last effort was mostly futile—and the rest in my little base resting.

Zombies don't sleep, not really; as herd creatures, we need to be aware of our surroundings even while resting. But I... wasn't. I still wouldn't have called it sleep, because I also wasn't fully unconscious, and never dreamed, but I was more helpless than a normal zombie, less aware, harder to rouse.

So I was startled but not surprised when I woke to voices outside my new home. "This should be about where he was last seen," said a man with a very deep voice that held a quiet authority.

I sat up straighter, tilting my head to listen harder. Some faraway part of my mind recognized that voice, though I couldn't place it, or the voice that followed, a woman who sounded tired. "The herd has long since moved on, though, and Topher probably went with it."

Wait. I knew that name. Topher. That... that name belonged to me. That was my name. They were looking for me.

Then there was a third voice, more familiar than the feeling of air in my lungs or the sun on my skin, said, "We'll just have to keep looking then. I swore I would find him again, and I intend to do just that."

I remembered helping the humans escape the herd, remembered why, remembered the man with dark hair and amber eyes and a warm smile, and I knew this voice went with that face, went with the name that I'd clung to with the last shreds of my sanity, belonged to Mattie. And if he was here, if he was searching for me... was this it? The moment I'd been fighting so long for?

I struggled to my feet, fighting my uncoordinated limbs and the dizziness that hit as soon as I was upright. I hadn't eaten at all since I'd encountered the humans, and wasn't sure how long that had been, but I knew it was too long, knew my body was struggling to keep functioning without sustenance.

My foot collided with something in the darkness and I groaned at the sharp pain. Outside, the humans fell silent at the sounds of my fumbling, probably thinking they'd drawn the attention of a zombie, which was not too far from the truth. I fiddled with the doorknob—zombies weren't smart enough to open doors, but I wasn't a normal zombie, and could manage it with some difficulty—and finally pushed the door open.

I squinted in the bright sunlight, the light burning my eyes after being in the dim building for so long. As they adjusted, I was able to make out a group of four people watching me with raised guns that lowered as I took a couple of stumbling steps outside.

First I saw a man with warm brown skin and cropped black hair. I had a dim memory of him looking at me in surprise as I lay in the back of a car, bound and unable to move. Then my gaze shifted to the slender young man standing next to him. I remembered him being smaller, barely more than a boy, and for some reason remembered trying to eat him, a thought that made my brows draw together. I couldn't imagine trying to eat anyone now, the idea made me feel ill. Then there was the tiny African American woman with a familiar smile, something that must have been a common sight from the lines around her eyes and my vague memories of her.