“They are here. But shouldn’t we learn as much about them as possible?”
How the fuck do I wind up working for all the mad scientists? He and Samuels would get along brilliantly. They could spend all day talking about zombie biology.
He folded his hands in his lap, though he kept twiddling his fingers. “We had to abandon Behrens Memorial because we kept storing the dead unbitten in the basement so they could be cremated. Or used to craft a vaccine. That’s what I wanted to do.”
Storing a bunch of dead bodies together is generally inadvisable when reanimation is a possibility. “And they all got up around the same time?”
The thumb-twiddling halted.
“We had a situation in Elderwood. When I left.” I paused, trying to summon words without imagining the shambling dead figures that were usually attached to them. “A lot of people died at camp, for a lot of reasons. And of course they found a lot of dead people, too. Hammond cremated the ones that had been bitten, and I think some of the dead when he could…but we also had a dumping ground a few miles out of camp. By the time we realized everyone came back, even if they weren’t bitten, it was too late. The dead were on their way…”
And Camp Elderwood, that beacon of safety and civilization, had gone down in flames.
At least, I feared it had.
Renati nodded, and reached across the counter. He plucked an orange container of pills from the stacks of paper, popped off the top, and shook a pill into his hand. He tossed it into his mouth and swallowed it, then re-focused his attention on me. “I’ve tried to keep records on when people die versus when they reanimate. Lattimore won’t permit me to do much. Someone dies, she wants them out. Gone. Bad for morale to leave dead bodies lying around, she says.”
I honestly couldn’t fault her on that one.
“Obviously I can’t bring one in here to watch; I’ve got no way to restrain it when it comes back. And I can’t really take them anywhere else—the soldiers brain them as soon as they’re removed. Or burn them, on cremation days.” He paused, letting me absorb that. No wonder Hastings hadn’t had a mass reanimation—if they burned most of their dead, they wouldn’t need to worry about it. “But I have noticed, just on my own time, with the handful they’ve let me study, the hours between the gloomy shade of death and reanimation decreasing.”
I nodded.
He passed the pill bottle from one hand to the other. “I’ve also looked at the blood of those who reanimated earlier and those who went later. I have looked at blood from the dead that run versus those that merely stagger. And there are subtle differences in the blood and tissue of those that run, I suppose.” He leaned toward me. “Does that make sense? Explaining it in laymen’s terms is…challenging.”
“Sort of,” I said. “The blood is different depending on what a, uh, revenant can do.”
“Yes. Exactly. So whether or not our fair Captain Keller agrees, the virus is changing. Or has always been changing. If we see zombies that run and think, however infrequently, why would we not see zombies that rise sooner?”
My poor, pastrami-laden stomach swirled around uneasily. Renati was clearly pleased to have an active listener—or at least someone who wasn’t telling him where to shove his research. I hoped he wasn’t about to poach me from Lattimore.
Or maybe I did want that. Maybe I’d be a better research assistant than a medic.
Renati paused for air, then plunged on ahead. “I’ve managed to halt certain aspects of the virus, at least in experiments. My predecessor had a great deal more research than myself, but Lattimore doesn’t want it addressed. She trashed what she could find of his work.” He reached under another group of papers, extracted a granola bar, unwrapped it, and took a bite. After a moment of chewing, he swallowed and chased it with a bottle of water. “She wants us to focus on those who are still there. The living. The dead rise, it’s terrible, that’s enough for her. She’s adapted it as just one more thing we have to worry about. There’s no way to stop them, so we learn to live with them. Like insurance companies.”
I frowned. “Lattimore was the first to break the news. I saw her on television…why would she want you to stop?”
He started laughing. “That television gig was the easiest job she ever had. What was there to figure out? The dead got up and got hungry. She told us the truth, took a stab at what might cause it, and then threw herself into helping the people who could still be helped. Besides, I’m sure she’s tired of being the early face of the apocalypse.”
I hadn’t even thought of that, but it had merit. When I first saw her, I’d immediately remembered her segment with Gloria Fey. Probably at least half the people she treated did the exact same thing.
“She’s a fine physician,” Renati said. “And she’s doing her best. But I still need to do my own research, and see what we can do to lick this thing before it takes more of us out.” He set the half-eaten granola bar on the desk.