Promptings from Valhalla - 9. Prompt 538 - The Zombie Part 3

“I need to find a way to make this right.” The man in the white lab coat ran his hand over his face as he stared into the quarantine room. The still form on the hospital bed haunted him ever since he had administered the wrong treatment three days prior, exacerbating the man’s symptoms instead of alleviating them. It was widely known that Diet Pepsi intensified the effects of the zombie virus and regular Pepsi lessened them; however, after working a double-shift, the young doctor had inadvertently grabbed the wrong bottle.

The zombie had already been on the edge of being too far gone to treat. The doctor worried that his mistake had now pushed him over that edge and nothing would bring him back.

“Has the treatment had any effect?” asked his supervisor.

He shook his head. “He’s been in a coma ever since the Diet Pepsi was administered.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I took a nap yesterday.”

“Go home.”

“I have to help him! He’s like this because of my mistake!” While normally stoic, the lack of sleep and remorse over his actions brought tears to his eyes. The human nature of the zombie, combined with the fact he had a son to return to, had touched the young doctor deeply.

“We all make mistakes, Bjorn. Don’t beat yourself up over this. His condition was advanced, anyway.”

“So that means we don’t even try?” He shook his head emphatically. “No. I won’t accept that.”

“That’s not what I said. Go home. Get some sleep. Take a shower. Come back when you’re thinking clearer. In the meantime, I’ll take over his treatment.”

The young doctor nodded. His patient was in the best hands possible. His supervisor was a pioneer in the treatment of zombieism. “Yeah, OK.”

His supervisor clasped his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, whatever happens.”

“I hope so,” he replied, then headed home to get some much-needed rest.

Bjorn slept for almost fifteen hours, took a shower and ate some food. He felt almost human again. Although he could have gone back to sleep, he headed to the hospital instead. He was eager for news about his zombie patient. He stopped at the front desk to check in with the blue-haired worker who had taken in his patient’s son.

“Hi, Cathy. Any news?”

The look on her face wasn’t hopeful. “He’s the same, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’ll head up and see what I can do.”

She smiled. “Andrew and I appreciate everything you’ve done for him.”

“But it’s my—“

“He knew the risks. It was a longshot if the treatment would have worked anyway. I don’t blame you. Andrew doesn’t blame you.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

She stood and embraced the young man. “Now go check on your patient.”

He squeezed her shoulder, then headed up the stairs to the zombie ward.

He found his supervisor in the quarantine room, standing next to his patient with a bottle of Pepsi Max in his hand. The doctor felt a chill go through his body, and he ran into the room, yanking the bottle out of his mentor’s hands. “What are you doing?” he yelled.

The shocked man stared at his protégé. “It’s his only hope.”

They had tried Pepsi Max on other patients in the past, and the results were not good. While it had cured the zombieism, it left them mentally unstable with significant cognitive impairments. Every person who had been administered Pepsi Max now resided in mental institutions under heavy guard. They were too dangerous and volatile to ever become a part of human society again.

“We might as well kill him. How can you even consider this after what happened to the others?”

“I want to try a diluted dose over an extended period of time. I think it will counteract the effects of the Diet Pepsi. I’ve tried it on the virus in the lab…the results have been promising. I’d like to run further experiments, but we don’t have time. It’s now or never.”

The young doctor was torn. He trusted his mentor, but he had also seen the effects of Pepsi Max firsthand. He nodded reluctantly. “OK. Let’s see what happens.”

“I’m not doing this lightly, you know. His story has touched all of us. I want to give him every chance we possibly can.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The older man introduced the diluted concoction into the zombie’s IV, then looked at his colleague. “Now, we wait.”

Two days later, there was still no change. The blue-haired worker sat by his side. “Andrew misses you. Please, come back to us. He needs his daddy.” She held her friend’s hand in her own gloved hand. She lowered her head, trying to will the tears away, but was unsuccessful in controlling her emotions.

A slight pressure on her hand caused her to raise her head. Was it her imagination, or did he look less green? She felt pressure on her hand again. There was no mistaking it this time; her friend was responding! She pressed the call button and yelled for the doctors. The zombie opened his eyes and smiled when he saw his friend.

The blue-haired woman’s heart pounded. She hoped this meant he would recover! The zombie’s eyes rolled back into his head as several alarms sounded at once. His body jerked and convulsed as a seizure tore through him.

A team of doctors and nurses burst into the room and immediately went to work, administering medications and performing CPR in an attempt to save him. The blue-haired woman watched from the sidelines, sobbing and praying that her friend would pull through. After twenty minutes of flurried activity, the young doctor pronounced the zombie dead. His voice hitched and shoulders slumped in defeat.

The blue-haired woman let out a cry of anguish. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she truly cared for her zombie friend. The young doctor embraced her, his own tears falling on her bright blue hair as hers soaked his shirt.

It took several minutes for her grief to expend itself. “I want to say good-bye.”

The doctor nodded. “I understand. Take as much time as you need.”

She sat next to her friend and took his hand in her own again. It was already cold. “I wish things could have been different. Even though I didn’t know you for long or even that well, I consider you my friend. I’ll raise Andrew as if he were my own. I already love him. I’ll be sure to tell him all about his brave daddy when he’s old enough.”

She lowered her head, not wanting to leave. She remained there long enough to fall asleep. The medical team didn’t have the heart to ask her to leave, so granted her privacy. She woke up a couple of hours later and wiped her sweaty hand on her pants.

Sweaty? She sat up, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest when she saw her friend looking at her. His complexion was light tan, with no trace of green. His bright eyes looked into her own and he smiled, then squeezed her hand.

“I consider you my friend, too. I’d love it if you helped me raise Andrew. I think he’s going to need both of us.”

She laughed and hugged her human friend. “I’d like nothing more.”