She turns to leave, and on impulse, I stop her. “Hey, Annie? Have you got much experience with supernaturals?”
“No, not really. Most of the supes in the city end up in Bloomsbury. They have a specialist wing at the old teaching hospital.”
“Oh right. Of course.”
She quirks a brow. “Why? You got an interest in supernatural medicine?”
“Not really. It’s more a personal thing. Just… Do you know anything about zombies?”
“It’s funny you should ask me that. I have a friend who is writing a research paper about transmorphological supernaturals—the kind that start out as human. I believe he’s looking for more zombie test subjects right now. But I can’t say I know a whole lot about it. Oh, but you said it was personal.”
“Yeah.” I shift a little in my seat. “A friend of mine was recently turned. I guess I’m looking for practical information more than anything.”
She nods. “Well, if you’re interested, I could pass on his number. He might be able to help.”
“Oh yeah. Thanks. That’d be great.”
She gives me a wave and heads out of the cafeteria, and I glance at my phone and realize my shift starts in five minutes. Scrunching my rubbish into a ball, I toss it in the trash and head upstairs, trying to put aside my thoughts of Adam for the time being. I wonder if it was a bad idea to say anything to Annie. Though it’s hard to see how my passing comment could be traced back to Adam, a guy I haven’t spoken to up until recently for months.
Perhaps Rosie was being paranoid when she said not to talk to anyone about it and not to let the authorities know. I meanpeople are used to supes. They’ve been living among us for years. Why would a zombie be different?
Except I know for a fact it feels different. For a start, I’ve never seen a zombie before. I didn’t even know they were real. You never see or hear about them in the news. It’s never happened to anyone I’ve worked with at the hospital.
Which begs the question: How does someone get turned in the first place? Rosie said they get bitten by another zombie, but that doesn’t line up with Adam’s story. We should probably try to find the woman he went on a date with, but I doubt he even remembers her name.
I’m so in my own head, I’m halfway through my rounds before I realize I haven’t listened properly to anything any of the patients said. I checked their wristbands of course, but they could have said anything.
Cursing myself, I start again, stopping back through each of the rooms I’ve already been to, backtracking and costing myself at least half an hour. I have to work into my lunch break to make it up, so I don’t see Adam’s message until I’ve got only five minutes left.
Adam: dropping by the store. Want anything?
Despite myself, I smile. Who is this guy? This thoughtful, responsible person. He sent the message two hours ago, so he’s probably been and gone. But I’m glad he finally seems to have learned a thing or two. Too bad he didn’t learn this stuff while we were still together.
Then again, it wasn’t me who broke up with him, was it? If he’d have been less of a manchild, that just would have made getting over him harder. I’m embarrassed by how long it took as it is.
Just as I’m about to start the last portion of my shift, my phone buzzes.
Adam: The first lady on my list got back to me and says she can meet for a video call this evening. I think we should take it. It’s only fifteen minutes, and it’s free.
Lady? That sends an irrational jolt of jealousy through me until I realize he’s talking about a therapist.
Wow. That was fast. I haven’t even looked through his list, even though I should have. This was my idea after all. Hopefully this means I’m one step closer to getting my flat back. I flick back a message before I stash my phone away.
Jen: sure. Thanks. I’ll be home for dinner
That feels so bloody domestic. I was one step away from typing xx at the end. It’s too late to delete it, though. I can tell from the two little ticks he’s already seen the message. I stuff my phone in my pocket and promise myself not to think about Adam all afternoon.
Then I fail miserably within two minutes of my resolution when an image of him cumming so hard it flew across the room pops into my mind, and I spend the next fifteen minutes daydreaming about the little sound he makes right when he cums. Something between a whimper and a grunt. But cuter. I’ve always thought he was cute when he cums. Probably why I used to indulge him so often.
When I finally make it home, I open the door to the smell of roasting meat and garlic. I almost stop to check the number on the door to make sure I’ve entered the right flat. “Adam?”
His face pops around the half wall hiding the kitchen from the front door, and he grins. “Hey. Dinner’s nearly done. I hope you like it. It took me most of the day.”
With trepidation, I drop my bags and walk into the kitchen expecting a charred mess, but apart from a few dishes stacked neatly in the sink, everything looks normal. “What is it?”
“Roast lamb with spring carrots and baby peas. It has this garlic rub. It was actually pretty easy.”
I peep into the oven where a leg of lamb is roasting on a bed of carrots. “Wow. It looks good.”
