Chapter 2
I was taken away.
When they bundled me up and tossed me into the military armored vehicle, I was still a dazed zombie.
It wasn't until I spotted all sorts of medical gear and containers inside the truck that I finally snapped out of it.
They were part of the official rescue team.
According to them, HQ had already done some research on zombies.
That even included the crazy idea that zombies could actually keep their human minds.
A terrifying thought popped into my head.
Were they going to cut me up and study me like some lab rat?
Just the thought made my whole body freeze with fear.
No, I couldn't let that happen!
Absolutely not!
Just shoot me and put me out of my misery, but don't slice me up for experiments!
But my stiff body couldn't fight back at all.
I struggled as hard as I could, but I barely budged an inch.
The person watching me noticed something was wrong and immediately alerted Mr. Morgan.
Soon, Mr. Morgan and Helen came over to me.
Mr. Morgan was still in her tactical gear, but now her face was clean—she looked both kind and tough.
She crouched down in front of me and gave a proper introduction.
"Rachel, I'm Alex Morgan. This is Dr. Helen Bright. If you have any questions, just let us know," she said.
I didn't want to be a lab rat!
I didn't want to be cut up and studied!
I tried to yell in panic, but all I managed was some weird zombie growls.
I fell silent.
Come on, if I could keep my mind, couldn't I at least keep the ability to talk?
Alex and Helen paused for a moment.
Like they were questioning the point of trying to make a zombie speak.
Helen considered for a moment, then pulled a pen and paper from her lab coat.
"Can you write?" she asked.
I nodded and took the pen and paper.
My hands were so stiff I could barely hold the pen. I scratched out a few words, but for any character with too many strokes, I just gave up and used letters instead.
My writing was barely legible—more doodle than script.
Luckily, thanks to their keen observation skills, Alex and Helen managed to figure out what I'd written.
[Kill me, but don't... torture me.]
I anxiously observed their expressions.
They were quiet for a moment, then Helen burst out laughing.
I was annoyed.
What was so funny?
Seriously, what?
Was she planning to slice me up for some experiment?
I just sat there, fuming helplessly.
Helen put away the pen and paper, then reached out with her gloved hand, trying to touch my head. "What an adorable girl."
Alex pressed her lips together and explained earnestly, "Don't worry. We put you here because all the other trucks are carrying survivors, and we didn't want to freak them out. We're not going to experiment on you."
I tried to demand answers, but all that came out were those classic zombie grunts.
Really?
Alex caught my skeptical look, nodded, and spelled it out for me.
"It's true. I guarantee it. Zombies with consciousness are super rare—like, priceless observation samples. We wouldn't let one go to waste," she said.
Fair point. Couldn't argue with it.
Back when I passed out from hunger in my tiny apartment, I thought I'd just fade away and end my pathetic life with nothing but regrets. Never imagined I'd get caught up in a crazy turn of events like this.
Since I was a zombie, Alex had me placed in the truck where they stayed, just in case anything went wrong, and made sure I was kept under strict watch at all times.
Even though I was basically under lock and key, they took pretty good care of me.
They scrubbed all the sticky blood off me until I was spotless, and Alex even went out of her way to find a big bag of clean clothes for me to change into.