Monica

Something about Dr Sheldon Benson didn't sit right with Monica. He was too well groomed, too calm, too...serpentine. Jayson had been unsteady on his feet when he came out of the office, barely making eye contact with her before he was forcefully led out of the room where everyone else remained.

Whatever Dr Benson did had set Jayson off, and Monica strongly suspected this would come back to bite him. The doctor didn't appear to be very interested in helping, despite his smooth words.

His smile made her feel exposed, and she couldn't help folding her arms across her chest. "You have nothing to fear from us, Monica. We only want to help."

She swallowed past the painful lump in her throat, still reeling from the past he'd dredged up from a world that no longer existed. Her breath shuddered as she said, "Digging up my past isn't very helpful, especially since I've worked very hard to move on from it. What happened nearly a decade ago is no one's business, and I honestly find it disturbing you have so much access to our information while the leadership here refuses to show us any transparency."

The man regarded her for a moment with shrewd eyes before responding with a sympathetic smile-one she knew all too well from the last time she went through extensive therapy. "Monica, this is a bit of a unique situation that the government prepared for in case it ever happened. A lot of people on the outside are dying, and it's not something we currently have a cure for. In order to maintain a sense of normalcy here, this process is crucial to successfully place everyone in a role where they can contribute.

'As for you, I'm sure that given your background, you're probably aware that you'll be in the labs. Before you go to work though, I have to know how you're feeling after your experiences. You were involved in a very high-profile case."

Heat seared Monica's cheeks, and she took several deep breaths before responding. When she was certain she could speak without throwing something, she evenly said, "That happened over a decade ago, and it's not something I choose to relive. Honestly, I'd be more concerned about how people are feeling regarding watching their loved ones torn apart by cannibals."

She purposely left out the part where she'd been blacklisted from working in any field related to scientific medicine, despite her innocence, but the damage had been done by the end of her trial. The media had painted her out to be a party girl, crying for attention because she had sex and changed her mind. Her ex-boyfriend's guilty verdict and the truth had meant nothing, especially after he committed suicide in prison. In the end, Emmett had won and destroyed her reputation.

She didn't need to relive that again with anyone. Jayson, maybe, but only when she was ready. She wasn't going to rehash her past with some creepy psychiatrist with a hidden agenda.

Doctor Benson sighed. "Why do you and your friends distrust us so much? We're ensuring everyone's survival while we take your safety into account. We are not your enemies."

How honest should she be? Jayson wasn't known for his diplomatic approaches, and something about the way this place was run gave Monica a bad feeling. If she didn't say anything though, they wouldn't trust her or any of her friends, and she needed answers.

She contemplated her answer before responding, looking for the right words. Finally, she said, "I don't believe you are our enemy. I think...everyone has been through a lot without much time to process what's happened, the staff has mistreated us and abused their power as survivors come in, and people are afraid because they don't know what is going on. I personally witnessed a nurse harassing a fifteen-year-old girl yesterday, and right now, the last thing she needs is more fear after being on the run for a week."

Doctor Benson nodded, looking troubled, though Monica couldn't be sure if it was genuine or an act. Everything made her paranoid now.

"I will find out who was on duty and address it. We need to be firm with how we approach the pandemic, but that's no reason to manhandle anyone. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Typing notes into his laptop, he printed out a piece of paper and held it out to her. "This is your schedule as well as your job duties and quarter assignments. You'll be in the same room Mr Whitaker provided you with last night, due to being essential personnel."

Essential personnel? What about everyone else? She took the sheet of paper and carefully folded it, politely reaching to shake Doctor Benson's extended hand as she stood up. His grip was strong, but his skin was clammy and his touch sent chills down her spine. When he guided her to the door, his hand rested on the small of her back, and it took every bit of will power she had not to shake him off and scream.

When the door opened, she quickly stepped outside into the hallway, breaking contact between them. He smiled again and indicated a man in a black uniform just outside. "You're free to wander the premises and acquaint yourself with the facility. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find my office."

That would be never. A tight smile pinched her cheek muscles, and she turned to leave as soon as it was polite. Once he was out of sight, she sighed in relief, happy to be out of there.

"The aptitude testing and medical can be a bit overwhelming," the man said behind her.

Monica jumped, forgetting he'd been with her in her hurry to escape.

The man's eyes crinkled in apology, and he raised his hands. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

He seemed nice enough. He gave off the casual vibe of someone who had no clue how bad things were on the outside, but he didn't make her nervous the way Doctor Benson had. His posture reminded her of Jayson, and given he'd been waiting for her outside the door, she assumed he had something to do with security. His face was cleanly shaven, making him look no older than twenty-one.

Monica worked her bottom lip as he held out his hand to her. Being near men in general made her nervous with Jayson being the exception. And it had taken her six years just to connect with him.

When she didn't take it, he awkwardly dropped his hand, but his lopsided grin remained. "My name's Freddie. I'll be showing you around today. Monica right?"

She nodded. "That's right."

"What job did you get?" he asked, pointing at the paper still in her hand.

She stuffed the paper in her pocket and hugged herself. "Medical Science. I'll be in the lab."

His brown eyes lit up and he walked ahead of her, motioning for her to follow. "Wow, an actual scientist? I've heard they need all the help they can get in there. I'm not smart enough to do one of the essential jobs, but security isn't so bad. I think once everyone is settled in, we'll be more like a police force while the raiders have all the fun."

Monica stumbled. Fun? Freddie stopped and turned, grimacing at her slack expression. "Sorry. I have a bad habit of leaving my foot in my mouth. I just mean that the raiders will look for supplies to keep us going until we find a cure. Security can be kind of boring."

Monica considered him. He was very outgoing and friendly despite being a bit on the socially awkward side. She might be able to get answers from him though if she played her cards right, provided he didn't hit on her. She wasn't sure how she could politely deflect a man who'd probably act like a kicked puppy the moment he was rejected.

She decided to take a chance and ask. "Mr Whittaker told us last night that this facility is self-sufficient. What would raiders need from the outside?"

Freddie's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Woah, you know the President?"

Monica's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. President? He certainly hadn't disclosed that. She swallowed and tried to mask her surprise, still organizing her thoughts when Freddie cut in. "Sorry, I talk too much. Mr Whittaker is the leader of this facility's council. No one sees him unless they're important."

Monica cleared her throat. "His son is one of my best friends," she croaked, sounding like a frog. "We came in together last week and we were just released from quarantine yesterday. H-how does this council work?"

Freddie shrugged. "I dunno. I guess the leaders were chosen as a contingency before the outbreak, but Mr Whittaker funded most of this post and its research."

What the hell was going on here? Did Taylor know? No, he couldn't. He'd have said something.

Her head swam and the world spun, sending her toppling over. Freddie quickly caught her before she could hit the ground and carefully sat her down. "Woah, are you okay? Should I call for a medical team?"

She shook her head, drawing in one small breath at a time. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as her stomach clenched. "I didn't eat well this morning," she lied. "I haven't been sleeping peacefully since the outbreak, and I watched several people die while I barely made it out of Phoenix alive. This place is just going to take some adjustment, that's all."

He placed the back of his hand on her forehead and cheeks before propping her up against a wall, producing a water bottle from one of his cargo pockets. "You're not running a fever, but you should probably drink this. Would you like me to escort you back to your quarters?"

She nodded, taking a small sip from the bottle. "Yes, please. I'd like to lie down for awhile if that's okay."

Monica screwed the cap back onto the bottle and allowed Freddie to help her up. As they walked, he cast nervous glances her way every few minutes, telling her his entire life story up until this point. In a very small way, he reminded her of Taylor- awkward, but sweet.

When she reached her room, she stopped long enough to face Freddie with a smile. "Thank you for bringing me back."

His lips curved into that grin again, making Monica feel bad for the day she'd have to break his heart. "Of course. If you'd like, I can bring you to the mess hall later. I can always show you the greenhouses and everything else this place has to offer when you're feeling up to it. This place isn't so bad, and we're safe here."

Safe was such a loose concept. No one was safe from anything. If it wasn't zombies, it was politics or grabby men. For Freddie's sake, Monica sincerely hoped he never had to witness the horrors of the outside world. As naïve as he was, it didn't seem right to shatter his false belief.

She eventually settled on a sigh, truly drained from the day's activities even though she'd spent most of it confined to a single room. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll wait for my friends."

She closed the door without waiting for a response and kicked off her shoes, placing them neatly beside the entrance. Having been too exhausted the night before, she didn't really take much time to acquaint herself with the opulence only the elite seemed to enjoy here. A large, square dining table with six chairs sat just outside of a small kitchen, though she wondered why it was necessary if she'd eat meals in the mess hall. Somehow, she doubted the normal rooms had these kinds of amenities.

Her quarters had two bedrooms and a bathroom as well as a small living area with a white loveseat. No TV, but she didn't watch much anyway before the world went to shit unless it was on Netflix. A full-sized bed was placed in both rooms, one with a bare mattress while the blankets on hers were still rumpled from this morning. Assuming she wouldn't be in these quarters long term, she hadn't bothered.

Walking into the kitchen, she opened the cabinets to find a supply of coffee large enough to last six months, a set of dishes, and a pantry stocked with dry foods. The freezer yielded frozen meat and vegetables, and Monica could only wonder just how long the government had been preparing for this. The setup was too perfect, and clearly, Mr Whittaker had been in bed with some big people to fund so much of this.

A knock at the door distracted Monica from her uneasy thoughts until she opened it, coming face to face with Taylor. Her breath hitched as her heart beat slowly, banging hard against her rib cage. His eyes were full of innocence without a single trace of deceit in them as he watched her, looking more miserable than ever.

Like yesterday, he wore a black t-shirt and cargo pants. His casted arm was in a black sling today and dark circles rested beneath his eyes. He still hadn't shaved, and Monica had to admit, the short beard kind of worked.

He offered her a weak smile. "May I come in?"

She stepped back, still reeling from the news about his dad. "Make yourself at home."

Taylor trudged inside and immediately sank into the loveseat with a loud sigh, leaning his head against the backrest. "I don't like this place at all, Monica."

She joined him on the couch and curled up beside him. She tucked her feet under her butt and leaned into his good shoulder, trembling against him. "I agree. It's too...perfect. Like it's some kind of weird Utopia that forces people to depend on its leaders to provide them with safety and everything they need."

Taylor nodded as he brought his arm around her shoulders. "I thought about that last night too. How did everyone get sick all at once? Don't viruses usually spread over time before it becomes a pandemic?"

"Yes. There's a patient zero, but the people exposed aren't always caught in time. All it takes is one person to be missed before it spreads to everyone else. By then, it's too late, everyone gets sick, and everyone else ignores the warnings."

"Okay, so how does that explain everyone turning at the same time?"

She didn't have an response for that. This virus wasn't like others she'd studied. This one was too perfectly timed, but she wouldn't have answers until she had a chance to get inside the lab.

Still, she vaguely remembered something a week before the virus broke out in the Southwest, something she'd read in the newsfeed on her phone.

She sat up quickly and stared at a blank space on the wall. "Taylor, you read the news right?"

"Yeah."

"The virus struck the East Coast first. But isn't Tropical Tidings based out of Colorado?"

"Yeah..."

She faced Taylor, forcing her brain to make the connection without all of the puzzle pieces. "How does a domestic soap facility trigger a zombie virus on the Eastern Seaboard a week before the West Coast is hit? Why the Northeast specifically?"

"Are you suggesting this was a biologically engineered disease?"

"You don't think so?"

She searched Taylor's eyes for any trace of knowledge that he was somehow in on this or that he knew what his father was up to, but only confusion clouded his gaze.

She continued, feeling like she was on the cusp of something big. "Do you know how many facilities there are like this across the country?"

Taylor bit his lower lip and chewed on it as his eyebrows knit together. "My dad didn't go into detail, but...when I hacked into the system the other day, I found at least two others with encrypted data being sent back and forth. I didn't have time to break all the way through because the doctor and my dad wouldn't stop hovering over me."

"That doesn't seem out of place to you?" she prodded, now grabbing his good shoulder and forcing him to look at her.

"Oh, it does," he agreed, "but I'm worried about interfering. My dad is strangely secretive about this place. He won't tell me what exactly he does, and he's always only been a software engineer. Not that I've been in touch with him, but my dad still acts the same way he did ten years ago. I can tell he's keeping something big from me because he kind of shuts down the same way he did when the media used to ask why I didn't attend events with my family. He gets really quiet before changing the subject and brushing it off altogether."

Shit.

She dipped her head and unfastened her ponytail, shaking out her hair. Taylor was going to hate her for throwing this on him, but she had no other choice. "Do you know if these rooms are bugged?"

Taylor's eyebrow quirked up and he shook his head.

Monica took his hand and led him into the spare room where a notebook and an unopened pack of pens sat on a desk. Tearing open the packing, she scribbled the words onto the blank paper before raising it up, clutching it with shaking hands, and revealing what Freddie had let slip.

Taylor's eyes scanned the paper for a moment until they stopped and his mouth fell open. He snatched the notebook from her and read it again before slapping it against his thigh and watched her with a broken expression. His breathing came in small gasps as he dropped onto the bed, burying his face in his hand. He shook his head over and over again as if he was trying to dispel what he'd just learned.

"Fuck."

That one word summed up everything from their shock to the current situation. They'd gone from a world full of zombies to a facility filled with shady dealings. Even worse, Monica had a horrible feeling this was only going to get worse if they weren't careful.

What else was John Whittaker hiding from them?