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my mouth. The acolyte screams, a high shrill noise that makes me
grin. I lift my head and smile, and I can feel the blood dripping down my chin,
feel the horror in Silas and the acolytes.
    And
I love it. I spit out the blood, and it hits Silas’ desk with a wet splat that
makes the acolyte flinch.
    Silas
stares at me for a long tense moment, and then, “Take her to Containment, and
have the Grays test her.”
    “Sir,
she bit me,” the blue-robed acolyte whimpers.
    Silas
spares him a cold look before he looks back to me. “Then you better hope like
hell she’s clean.”

 

 
    Chapter
5. Containment

 
    CONTAINMENT
IS CONTAINMENT, either in a Haven on the coast, or a government bunker
underground. The unbitten acolyte shoves me roughly into a barred little room
with nothing but a thin bed and bright lights.
    The
taste of blood still coats my mouth, copper pennies and rust and salty swat. My
white tank top is bloody and sticking to my skin. I’m surprised no one has shot
me—except they won’t. Even now, with the behavior I’m showing, the Order won’t
kill me until they’re very sure I’m infected and impossible to save.
    And
I’m not. I’m just furious and using a cultural taboo to freak them the fuck
out.
    No
one bites. Mothers will be shunned for their babies biting—it is too similar to
the infects, too much of a death sentence, and no one will tolerate that. The
acolytes slam the door behind him, his eyes wide as he watches me, and a Gray
priest hurries in. “What happened?”
    “She
bit Charlie,” the acolyte babbles, pointing at his companion. Charlie looks
decidedly gray, leaning against the wall, cradling the injured hand to his
chest.
    I
smirk, leaning against the bars, my hands dangling. “Don’t worry, Charlie,” I
taunt. “If I were infected, they could still save you through amputation.”
    The
Gray priest gives me a sharp look, and I bare my still-bloody teeth. His eyes
narrow, and I see dislike there, before he turns away. “Charlie, with me.” He
grabs a test kit from the wall and hands it to the uninjured acolyte. “Make
sure she’s clean, Luke.”
    His
eyes bulge but the Gray and Charlie are gone before he can protest. I wave with
one hand. “Let’s get it over with. I would rather not be shot by an overzealous
acolyte trying to keep your clean record.”
    He
inches over and I can see him holding his breath as he catches my hand and
pulls my arm straight. I don’t object—I’m not so set on fighting that I’ll fuck
with a blood test—as he quickly draws a small vial of blood and drops in the
test dye. For a moment, the color wavers, and then the dye vanishes and the
blood deepens to a rich, dark red. I let out a tiny sigh. He stumbles to the
door, his robes twisting around his feet. As the door bangs shut behind him, I
hear him shouting, “Don’t shoot him—she’s clean!”
    I
swallow my laughter and go to sit on my bunk, drawing my legs up and hooking a
hand on my knees.
    Finn
would be so proud.

 
    Part 4.
    The Monsters We Become

 
    Syntherix
will be the cure for all of the monstrous acts that are committed by the
emotional unstable. It’s a miracle in a tiny package.
    Dr.
Heller-

 
    There
are no miracles. There are only monsters and death.
    Sylvia
Cragen-

 

 
    Chapter
1. The Living and Dead

 
    BEFORE
THE CHANGE, people killed. Every year, thousands of people were murdered by
each other, and others died in accidents that were reckless and easily avoided.
Death was easy and commonplace.
    But
it wasn’t the kind of commonplace that it is now.
    It
wasn’t every fourth person dying, turning, and rising to join the horde of
hungry dead. Back then, people died, they stayed in the fucking ground. It was
as it should be—a natural order. Aside from the rampant killing of each other.
    It
changed after the zombies. Everything changed, but murder—murder vanished
overnight. What’s amusing is that everyone is a killer. Every fucking person
alive has