THERE was dead air. Commander Nico was pressuring President Carlos to just bomb the hospital even if ther was a possibility that survivors, waiting to be rescued, were trapped in it. In the president's opinion, that was laziness. Cowardice. He used to be a doctor, and becoming a president did not lessen his desire to save lives, especially those of the innocent. But he could not set aside the commander's hidden sentiment. He was afraid to lose manpower at a time where it was crucial. Losing soldiers would only increase the gap between the number of humans in the Philippines compared to the number of zombies, and being outnumbered by the latter was already a bothering enough.

Also, the risk of having the soldiers deal with the zombie would make the escape ratio bigger for the monster. The zombie could sneak out in their game of hide-and-seek, make its way out to the city, and then they were officially doomed because the people were collected in one place. The scenario would be similar to a single ant who got to feast inside a glass jar full of cookies. There would be nowhere else to hide if another outbreak occurs inside Citadel.

While Commander Nico waited for his response over the phone, the president looked around with observant eyes.

President Carlos sat straight in his chair with a high backrest made of woven abaca. The rest of the chair, especially its frame was made of solid narra wood painted white. In every corner of the office, his presidential guards stood wearing their black slacks and Barong shirts. One of their hands were always in a ready position, cradling their long guns. They also wore their own earpiece and a small box-like black gadget was clipped on their shirts' collar—a contemporary wireless microphone.

President Carlos carefully looked at his guards because inspite of the security they gave him, he still had room for doubt for them. It was just that he never completely trusted anyone since the crisis. That was rule number one for anyone in thr Citadel—trust anyone, but not completely.

He also knew very well that he wasn't everyone's first choice for presidency. There were still some people who would try to drag him out of his position or find faults in his authority. So, he had to be careful.

At the moment, President Carlos had to make a choice—a safe choice through a proper choice of words. The decision must be something that his security would not react violently about, given that they could hear everything that he says.

"I think, you can proceed with your plan, Commander Nico—"

He heard the commander's sigh of relief.

"—if," he continued. He never stopped talking anyway, "you can retrieve the CCTV recordings ng ospital."

'But that will take the operation longer than its supposed to be! Until when are the rest of my men going to monitor the people outside the hospital? Their lives will be put in danger if the zombie got one step ahead and escapes the hospital while we are busy looking for that goddamn video!'

"It's your job to demand the people to leave the vicinity. Also, the videos are important for first-hand account documentation regarding this zombie attack. Isn't first-hand account reports an SOP in your reports, commander?" He could already imagine Commander Nico's sour face. Commander Nico could not answer him, so he resumed. "We need to onow the whole story. It might help with the improvements of the Immortality Pill. So, if we can't get information from survivors who actually witnessed what happened, then we will have to depend on CCTV footages."

 'And if my men encounters some survivors . . . We will still be required to rescue them, right?'

President Carlos held back his demeaning laugh for Commander Nico. But what kind of question was that he was asking? He tried his best to stay calm as he answered, "Yes. What have you sworn yourselves into? To serve and to protect the citizens of Citadel, right?"

'To serve and to protect,' Commander Nico echoed in a whisper. It was as if he was talking more to himself, giving himself a reminder.

***

FROM behind the nurse station desk, Natalia peeked its far end. She glanced to her left and right before she came out from hiding.

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes in satisfaction. She savored the refreshing flow of renewed energy that swam all over her body. On her next deep inhale, her eyes waved. Something made her flung her ash-colored eyes open and glance to the right of the hallway. Natalia carefully spun to face that direction and took one cautious step at a time with her toes lifted to avoid her long toe nails from scratching the floor.

She gently passed by closed doors and open doors, lit rooms and dark rooms. When she walked past a door, something crashed from it. Several items seemed to have fallen on the floor.

Natalia looked behind her. A silver metal trolley rolled out from a room that was two doors away from her. Empty plastic cups tumbled down, glass containers crashed on the hard floor. The trolley fell on its side when it hit the wall opposite from the door where it came out. The shattering glass equipments, clicking tablets and pills, bouncing plastics, tumbling cottons, rolling supplies, and spilled liquids echoed in the quiet hallway.

Meanwhile, Natalia swiftly hid inside an unlit room. Her arm pressed against the wall while she faced the open door beside her and she tried to pick up any sound from the hallway. Next, her nose crinkled as she sniffed.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the mysterious smell.

It smelled human, but also smelled like . . . dead.

And even if it smelled like dead, it has a certain tone which was far different from how the corpse she ate earlier smelled like.

The curiousity was pushing her to take a look what it was, but she controlled herself. 'Wait for a while, Natalia . . .'

Her thoughts began running. How come she hadn't picked up that scent earlier when she walked past that door where the trolley came from? Was it because despite of feeling re-energized, she still hadn't fully recovered her powers yet?

Maybe, she had to eat more.

Natalia swallowed with her lips slightly parted because her crooked teeth were too big. Threads of her sticky spit hung from between her teeth.

Then she heard shuffling feet. It was as if  someone dragged their feet as they walked. The soles of the shoes squeaked and brushed against the floor. The strange steps were followed by distinct, tiny footsteps. The smaller feet shuffled, shifted between stepping, stomping to a halt, and dragging. The muted sharp inhale from a scared human did not escape her ears.

'Did anyone see me when I passed by the open doors?'

"Dad!" a small, crying voice shuddered.

"Shhh!" was the firm reply.

"I don't want to come with you! Let me go!"

"And what do you want? To be left here and be eaten by the zombie?" The voice was raspy, hushed, and rushed.

"I don't want to come with you!" insisted the voice of a little girl.

"We'll look for your mother and Tupe. Then we're getting out of here! Stop being so difficult!"

"No! Tupe got sick because you . . . you bit him!"

Natalia's eyes turned round, almost bulged out of their sockets. Thr voices were getting distant, so she worried peeked from behind the door frame. She saw silhouettes of a man and a girl. The little girl was tall for her age and lanky with a messy low ponytailed hair.

"I didn't bite your brother!" the man harshly pulled the struggling child. He was forced to face his daughter and grab her on both shoulders. "I'm your father! Do you understand?" he hissed, struggling between blurting and trying to keep his tone down. "And never have I ever hurt any of you! Not because I am like this, I will be capable of hurting you! Or your mother and Tupe!"

Natalia was slowly understanding the situation. The father seemed to be in a hurry to find his wife and son, but he was forced to talk it out with his daughter who kept on trying to run away from him and wriggle her way out of his hold.

The child shook in fear. Her tears slid down her cheeks incessantly along with her sobs slipping out her quivering lips. Like her father, she could not hold her emotions anymore, but had to keep her voice down so that the roaming zombie would not hear them.

The father slowly lifted his eyes and it went past his daughters' . . . Natalia immediately stepped back into hiding. A few strands of her straight hair fell over the half of her face as she moved that swiftly.

"I know you're out there," the man called out. "And I know what kind of a creature you are."

Her eyes widened. Nervousness clicked in her chest.

"If you'll let us leave, I'll tell you where else you can have a feast in this hospital."

Natalia swallowed. 'Does he really know what kind of a creature I am? Am I zombie to him or . . . can he tell that I'm a bal-bal?'

Then, she remembered the daughter's accussations to her father. That he bit her brother. If the father was a zombie then, with a consciousness like Cjay and could smell what kind of a creature she was, then . . .

'Can zombies smell what kind of creatures they are interacting with? Can Cjay . . .' Her lips shuddered in a mix of panic and fury. 'Can he already smell who I am since we first met? Is that why he's so hostile and sarcastic to me?"

"Or what if, you help me find my wife and my little boy, and I will show you the other corpses here?" the man negotiated further.

Natalia stayed hidden but courageously answered. "You're asking for two favors," she replied in a voice so rough and deep as if she came from the ground. She heard how her voice inflicted more terror from the gasp of the little girl. "So you should offer . . . two things!" It was really a struggle for her to speak when she kept on salivating and she had three rows of sharp, crooked, pointy teeth that were bigger than normal. "In exchange!"

"What else do you want?"

Natalia slowly came out from hee hiding. The darkness contrasted with the small glow of light coming from a nearby door that subtly touched her horrifying form, solidly tracing her strange form.

The little girl froze upon seeing her. She held her breath as her round eyes stared at her. Meanwhile, the father released the girl's arm. He stood straight but the best he could do was stand with his body slightly slanting to his left. His left arm and leg just dropped too heavily, like they were either limp or filled with anaesthesia. He looked human as possible, but wet, red blood encircled his mouth, smeared on his forehead and the tips of his hair. The blood even stained his neck and simple clothes. His arms and hands were stained with blood too. A few splatter could be seen on his pants as well.

"They stopped making the immortality pills accessible to the public," Natalia murmured, still stunned. "So, in exchange of favor number one, tell me how you maintained your consciousness even if you are already a zombie."