DS Chapter 11

Logan didn’t even flinch at my reaction. He didn’t talk to me, nor did he explain anything. Even more frustrating, he didn’t undo the straitjacket once we were in the car.

As if this was a regular occurrence, he gave me a quick glance, started the engine, and drove off while I fumed.

If this is how it’s going to be, why did you treat me in the first place? Isn’t being treated supposed to lead to being discharged? At least treat me like a human being.

“What… what’s going on… where are we going?”

Unable to hold back anymore, I spoke up first. My voice came out cracked and slurred, as my throat hadn’t fully recovered.

Suddenly, thud! The car jolted. Logan hit the brakes so suddenly that I lurched forward.

Because I was still in the straitjacket, I couldn’t straighten up and ended up slamming my face into the dashboard, groaning in pain.

“Ow… that hurts.”

“…You can talk?”

Logan, with wide eyes, looked more shocked than I was.

Didn’t they treat me? Isn’t this discharge because I’ve recovered from being a zombie? Why does he look so surprised?

“Of course.”

Even though my voice was rough and broken, I could still speak.

“…Sh*t.”

Logan ran his hand roughly over his face, swearing. He looked more confused than I was.

His eyes were red, and his hands, gripping the steering wheel, trembled. Tears even welled up in the corners of his eyes.

Was me speaking really that shocking? I suppose it would be, considering I’d been a zombie for a year. It must be overwhelming to see me talking again.

But he needed to pull himself together and give me a proper explanation. After all, I just feel like I’ve woken up from a long sleep.

“Where are we going?” I asked again, finally sitting up from the dashboard.

Logan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His chest swelled as he took a deep breath. When he turned to look at me, his expression was filled with deep sorrow.

I couldn’t understand Logan’s emotions at all, so I awkwardly averted my eyes.

Is he moved? Is he that happy that I’ve returned to normal?

I guess so. That must be why he didn’t kill me. There had to be a reason why he kept me around and even got me treated when I turned into a zombie.

I almost misunderstood his calm demeanor, thinking he didn’t care about me at all. I almost believed he was only keeping me alive out of guilt, intending to sell me off as a test subject to a zombie research lab.

My resentment towards him softened ever so slightly. But I still wasn’t going to forgive Logan over something so trivial.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and laced with emotion.

“…We’re going back to our home. Where we used to live.”

So, where exactly is home?

Logan stepped on the accelerator again, and the car sped along the desolate road.

As soon as we passed the high wall lined with barbed wire, a barren plain stretched out before us. Scattered across the landscape were structures that looked like guard posts.

I tilted my head in confusion at the sight of the wasteland. I had assumed that since a cure had been developed, the world would have returned to normal.

But what was this refugee camp-like scene in front of me?

Temporary tents were set up here and there, with field beds, clothes spread out to dry on rooftops, men pulling wooden carts loaded with supplies, and children kicking around empty cans as they played.

It looked exactly like a post-apocalyptic landscape after a great disaster.

Was the “home” Logan mentioned just one of these crumbling green tents? Somehow, I didn’t feel eager to go back.

As the car rumbled along the cracked and broken concrete road, Logan broke the silence.

“Do you remember?”

“Huh?”

“When you were a zombie. Most people say they don’t remember, but… you were a zombie for a whole year.”

I shook my head. I was relieved that I had lost the memories of when I was a zombie. It must have been disgusting and horrifying, and if I had retained those memories, it would have been unbearable.

Logan, on the other hand, looked disappointed when I told him I couldn’t remember that time.

Did he make some kind of special memory with zombie-me? What on earth was he disappointed about? His reaction baffled me.

I didn’t bother asking why. I didn’t want to know, and I wasn’t curious. I just wanted to forget that I had ever been a zombie, once and for all.

What I was more curious about was how Logan had managed to survive over the past year. Especially while dragging a zombie like me around.

I slowly closed my eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over me.

‘I should ask him to take off this straitjacket…’

But before I could, I drifted off, my head falling forward. As I faded into sleep, a fierce hunger and thirst surged within me.

It felt like my dormant sense of smell was suddenly reawakened. A mouthwatering scent wafted to my nose. The overpoweringly sweet smell came from the seat next to me.

‘Is that Logan’s sweat?’

It smelled absolutely delicious… I mumbled to myself as I fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a dull, gray sky, as if it had rained. At that moment, the car came to a stop.

“This is…”

“Our home,” Logan said.

In front of a cracked wall where weeds had taken root, scraps of tattered cloth, broken furniture, and random junk were scattered about. The house looked half-abandoned, like a crumbling ruin.

At least it wasn’t a refugee tent, I thought with relief. But this is where I supposedly stayed? I had no memory of it at all.

Logan got out of the car first, opening the passenger door. Then, without warning, he hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me into the house.

‘He could’ve just taken off the straitjacket,’ I grumbled, dangling like a sack of potatoes.

The first thing that greeted us was a rusty mailbox, followed by a yard overgrown with weeds and cracked tiles.

When he opened the front door, its creaky hinges groaning, a gloomy living room came into view.

Cobwebs dangled from the light fixtures, the wallpaper had yellowed with age, the vents were caked with dust, and the broken bookshelf added a weight to the atmosphere.

‘He could’ve cleaned up a bit before living here,’ I thought, feeling a little disheartened.

Logan placed me on a rocking chair. Actually, it was more like he plopped me down, as though tossing a sack onto the chair.

The old, chipped chair creaked loudly as it moved.

What is this strange feeling? For some reason, this chair felt oddly familiar. I couldn’t remember anything from when I was a zombie, yet…

No, it must be a mistake. I was a zombie, so I probably stayed locked up in some storage room or something. It would’ve been too dangerous to leave me loose.

‘But still… why does this feel so comfortable and familiar? It feels like I’ve returned home, like this is where I belong…’

Lost in thought, I let the rocking chair sway beneath me. Suddenly snapping out of it, I called out to him.

“Can you… take this off? It’s… suffocating.”

Logan was reading a crumpled piece of paper he’d pulled out of his pocket. He raised an eyebrow at me, then shook his head.

“Wait.”

“Ugh.”

Why won’t he take it off? This is so uncomfortable. I wriggled my shoulders in frustration, furrowing my brow. With my arms bound behind me in the straitjacket, there was no way I could free myself.

Logan held the paper up in front of my face.

“You need to start getting injections from today. The medicine contains narcotic ingredients, so it might make you a little dizzy and tired.”

It was my prescription that Logan had been reading.

[Prescription]

– Administer twice daily.
– Physical check-ups in the morning/evening. (Pupils/pulse/temperature/blood/skin)
– No meat; a vegetarian-based diet is recommended.
– Cognitive ability to be checked regularly.
– No going out. (Guardian must accompany during outings.)
– If any abnormal behavior appears, return to the hospital immediately.

I nodded after reading the prescription given to me.

“Mm-hmm.”

“From now on, you can’t go out alone. When I’m not home, you’ll stay in a locked room. You need to behave and not cause trouble. Until you’re fully cured, you can’t act recklessly.”

I felt like a scolded child in trouble with their mother. My speech came out awkward, which only added to that feeling.

“…Okay.”

“If you break the rules, I’ll put the straitjacket back on you. And if someone reports you, you might be locked up in the research facility for good, never to come out. So, don’t feel too bad.”

His words made my heart tighten. My situation became painfully clear.

I wasn’t human yet. Until I was officially declared cured, I wouldn’t be treated as a person. I was like a dangerous, wild animal that needed to be isolated from others.

When I lowered my gaze with a sullen expression, he clicked his tongue softly.

“Once you’re cured, things will go back to the way they used to be.”

That was somewhat comforting. Once I was cured, I could live normally again. The judgmental stares of the nurses who looked at me like I was disgusting would disappear too.

I’d just have to endure staying with Logan until I got better. I had no choice for now. Just a little longer, even if it was uncomfortable being around him.

“Got it.”

I said, nodding firmly.

Seeing me regain some spirit, Logan gave a faint smile. There was a warmth flickering in his eyes as he looked at me.

“Good, that’s a good girl.”

His large hand landed on my head with a soft thud. Logan, as if accustomed to it, began ruffling my hair naturally, like one would pet a dog. His hand tousling my hair made me frown instantly.