The nice thing about living on the block with the most drug dealers per capita in Minneapolis is that no one, criminal or legit, fucks around trying to be a hero. This may also be why we haven’t seen a single zombie yet. I just know they’re there. I can smell them, even in the cool weather. Odors are bothering me even more than normal today. Rotting-wilting-burning flesh, the decay of the man on the ground in my garden, the smell of sun hitting earth. Joel’s organs, live with oxygen.
Joel and I have gotta move. While I’d prefer to stay here, it’s not going to be tenable for long. According to the early tests, the ones done in the months leading up to my trial, I have a much higher pheromone signature than other people, and the alpha-wave activity I spent years training my brain for will eventually draw zombies to me like an all-you-can-eat buffet in Vegas. We’re going to have to bust into the hospital.
I don’t wanna.
But we need to know. I’m going to have to tell Joel what’s happened to me, what might happen to me.
I might actually be a zombie queen, a dormant genetic bomb waiting to go off.
