THE VIRUS was a traitor. Its first symptom—a simple flu—didn’t giveaway its nature rightaway. It could only be identified when the patient has a peculiar bite, which could be easily seen on its first two to three days before the discoloration of the skin starts to cover up its traces. For these reasons, Team Aegis make rounds vigilantly in every homes and corners of Citadel because early detection of those infected was very crucial.

As much as possible, the ordinary people were not made aware of Team Aegis being permitted to own guns, like Aunt Hilda’s pistol, and being allowed to kill infected people. Publicizing this information would create a gap between the people and the medics. Knowing that the people you expected to cure you can also kill you would intimidate anyone and worse, drive them to become uncooperative and to lie to an Aegis out of fear. In Officer Macario Avenido’s case, eliminating the infected had been convenient for Team Aegis because they didn’t have to do it themselves. The soldiers living in that soldiers’ community had lend them a hand.

Since people were not made aware that Team Aegis operations involved killing the infected rightaway, here goes Natalia staring at the two urns placed in a small table on the altar. The table got flowers on its foot and was placed in front of a wall where a 12-inches long, wooden crucifix was put up. Aunt Hilda’s fine ashes rested within one of the white, porcelain urns. The Aegis’ cremation wasn’t questionable because it was part of the protocol when they die in a mission. Natalia had no clue that aside from the zombie’s bites, bullets also tore up her body.

The funeral was held in a small chapel. The silence was deafening because in spite of numerous white monobloc chairs divided into two groups by an aisle, the people who came were only composed of two officers each from Team Aegis, Lawin Special Ops, and Agila Special Ops; Lesley’s family who were all too stunned at the pace of events and couldn’t cry; and lastly, Natalia, Aunt Hilda’s only family who came here after the officers from Team Aegis picked her up from the apartment. The officers arrived about an hour after the president and his two bodyguards left Natalia’s apartment empty-handed. Empty-handed because Natalia just refused the offer to be Cjay’s assistant. Natalia sat on the chair at the end of the front row. She was the only person seated among the seats on the left side of the aisle. It was her smell that drove the rest of the mourners to occupy the seats on the right side of the aisle.

Natalia, like Lesley’s family, could not shed a tear too. She just stared at Aunt Hilda’s urn, trying to picture how she looked like when she died. How she wished her aunt didn’t have to be cremated. How she wished she could see how her aunt exactly looked when she died, even if her every muscles were torn to shreds, her skin was ripped open, or her organs were spilling out of her body. Natalia wouldn’t mind seeing Aunt Hilda’s corpse at its worst, not just because she was desensitized to gore but also because that would help her identify the nature of her aunt’s death. It might add something of value to what she already knew about zombies and how they attack or devour their victims.

Then, she sensed a presence behind her. Natalia didn’t have to look to know that it was President Carlos De Aguirre. They meet again.

Unbeknownst to Natalia, it had been the president’s routine to express his condolences personally at the relatives of those who lose their loved ones because of the epidemic—from those who got infected families up to those whose relatives were attacked by zombies. It was a very important obligation for the president because it was him who makes sure that those who were left behind would not get any ideas to blame these deaths to the president, the government.

“Hija,” he spoke from behind her, “think about the work I am offering you. Now that you’re on your own, it will be good for you to have a source of income . . . a better place to live in.”

She remained sitting firmly in her seat. Never did she feel the interest to steal a glance at the president or read the stoic expression on his face. Her eyes stayed at Aunt Hilda’s urn. “I just have a question, Mr. President. Why do they have to be cremated immediately? Why don’t we wait for them to turn into zombies and try to medicate them?” ‘You know? Like your son?’

“I think you already have an idea about some of the reasons why we can’t do that.” The man still clad in his black slacks and barong shirt stepped through a gap between her chair and the other chair beside it. Then, the president sat beside her. “One of those reasons is, I cannot risk a lot of people’s lives, just to medicate another zombie.”

“How is it going to be risky? You figured out how to manage your zombie of a son. So, by now, you are supposed to know how to lessen the risk of medicating others who are in the same situation as him,” she stated coldly in a controlled voice. She still stared at Aunt Hilda’s urn but this time, all of their happy memories were flashing before her eyes as if it was her who was going to die. “This isn’t fair for me . . .” Natalia glanced at Lesley’s family. It crushed her heart to see his grandparents crying silently and the two clueless kids—Lesley’s cousins who were around six to seven years old—who came along with them, looking around the chapel curiously. “This isn’t fair for them . . .”

Natalia didn’t know how to feel for Lesley himself. She overheard a conversation between his grandfather and a Team Aegis officer earlier saying that he was only twenty-two years old. He was the healthiest in their family of five, the one most capable of working as well while his grandparents look after the two children. It was such a waste, thinking that at his age, there was more to look forward for someone as young as Lesley . . . and a lot of people for him to look after. What made her feel worse for him was the conversation she overheard from a Team Aegis team leader officer named Corinne and an Agila Special Ops officer, Second Commander Greg. They did not talk much about Aunt Hilda, but talked about Lesley’s death with a little more detail. He had it worse, Corinne said, to which Greg agreed by adding that the zombie ‘feasted’ first on Lesley’s neck for a few minutes before attacking her aunt.

Her thoughts were interrupted when President Carlos placed a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a gentle tap that encouraged her to look at him straight into the eyes. He was about to say something, but she got ahead of him.

“What can we do? It’s easier to do things the easy way than the right way, huh?”

Natalia waited for his response. She did not break away from their eye contact while the president gazed at her in a way that gave her the impression that he was trying to understand her. Then, he pulled his head back a little bit. His new thoughts were written in his pitying eyes—he must have come to the conclusion that she was being so blunt because she was speaking out of grief.

“After this, I am going home,” he said as he released her shoulder. “You can come with me so that you can take a look at your new place. Then, my driver will take you back to your apartment, so you can pack your things before moving in.”

‘He must have sensed that I was being skeptical of him. That’s why now he’s doing everything to stop me from saying something against him about Aunt Hilda’s death.’

Natalia returned her eyes on Aunt Hilda’s urn.

‘Looks like, I am really on my own now, Auntie. I have to learn to survive all alone too soon . . . Way too soon . . . But . . . Thank you for everything. Thank you for keeping me and treating me without any discrimination . . .’

Natalia glanced back at the president. “Yes. Let’s do that, sir, but please, do me a favor. Don’t bring me back to the apartment ever again. I don’t want to bring my old stuff with me as well.”

“Then, I’ll oversee the arrangements for your stay in our residence. I will take care of your needs as well.”

With blank eyes, Natalia looked at Aunt Hilda’s urn once more. “Thank you.”

***

CJAY SLOUCHED ON THE COUCH. He was topless, exposing his decaying skin and the white bandage wrapped around his stomach—the part that suffered from the alcohol burn that he just had. He was taken care of by a group of doctors earlier this afternoon, as soon as he got home from Natalia’s apartment. None of them expressed his condition into words, or whether there was a notable improvement in his state. Complete with their white protective clothings, helmets, and gloves, the doctors quietly checked him then used a silicone spatula to spread a colorless cooling ointment across his stomach before carefully wrapping it in bandage. Their gloves barely even touched him, for they used tapes and tongs for this simple procedure that made them sweat bullets and caused a steam in their helmets.

As of the moment, Cjay’s fingers clicked violently against the wireless joystick that he was using to play video games. The flat screen TV was mounted on the wall at the other side of his room, opposite his bed where he sat with his back propped up in silk pillows that pressed against the head board. When he lost all his lives in the game, he muttered a curse.

Ever since he became a zombie, video games had been his hobby. His body was too heavy and uncoordinated to play sports. He could not wander around the Internet because its accessibility had been banned for everyone and was secretly made exclusive for the use of the government.

He left his video games and headed to the kitchen to grab some cold water to cool his fuming head. That was when he realized that it was already the wee hours of the night. The guards still stood on both sides of his door outside but the hallways were quiet and dimly lit by small, yellow bulbs from the wall lights.

As soon as he got to the kitchen’s doorway, Cjay froze on the spot. A cold stream of white light stretched over a strange figure that bent down while exploring their refrigerator. It was suspicious because as far as Cjay knows, they didn’t hire stay-in maids in Malacañang. They only pay for cleaners to drop by once a week and clean up the whole place while he and his father were out. Obviously, this became the setup because people were scared of a zombie like him.

Suddenly, the figure stood up straight and turned to look at him. They shared the same sharp gasp and shocked expression on their faces as soon as they recognized each other.

“Why are you here?” Cjay almost screamed at the young woman who helped him when he got drunk the other night.

In spite of having her back against the refrigerator light, Cjay could still make out Natalia’s features. She still looked pale and lethargic, ghostly, just like their first and previous meeting. If her skin was also peeling off and decaying, Cjay could have mistaken her for a zombie as well, especially when she moves as slow as this—as if she was dragging every part of her body.

Natalia automatically replied to him snidely. “Don’t you know? I’m already your new assistant?”

Cjay muttered lowly with wide eyes. “What the hell?”

Why would his father consider hiring this young woman to be his assistant? She looked wimpy! With just a wave of his arm, Cjay could flung her in the air effortlessly if ever she tries to stop him from eating humans!

“This must be some kind of mistake,” he continued.

“You’re right.” Natalia placed one hand on her waist. “This is a big  mistake because all I’m asking for is money! Not to be your . . .” she trailed off, struggling to speak for some reason. “Ah . . . Ah—ssistant!” Natalia seemed to be unable to bear it anymore. She threw her hands to her face, covering his mouth and nose.

Cjay was offended. “I know that I stink, okay? But you smell worse!” He turned his back on her. “I’ll talk to Dad.”

The moment Cjay turned away from Natalia, she immediately put down her hand, sticking with spit. She immediately dashed to the nearest toilet room to gather herself together.

***

IT had been minutes since Cjay’s latest interaction with Natalia. He had to roam around the presidential palace to search for President Carlos. His father’s schedule was always fluctuating, he could not decide if he was still in his office or not because sometimes, his father could work for 24-hours and catch up with his sleep on the next day. When Cjay came to an empty office, he went to the president’s bedroom.

“Dad!” Cjay walked into his father’s bedroom.

President Carlos was about to unbutton his barong shirt’s cuffs when he heard Cjay’s heavy, dragging footsteps get inside the room. He turned to face him and scanned him with his eyes swifty. “Oh, Cjay? What brings you here all of a sudden?”

“That woman!” he pointed to the closed door even if Natalia wasn’t there. “That woman is going to be my assistant?

“Who? Natalia?” the president unbuttoned the cuffs of his clothes. “Yes, she’s your new assistant. You’ve met already? I am actually planning to introduce her to you tomorrow.”

“Dad, why?” He was frantic. “All that that woman wanted is money, okay? Not a job!”

“I know,” his father stared at him “But I gave her a job because if she managed to take care of you when you got drunk, it means she can handle you.”

“No, she can’t. Have you seen how that woman moves? So sluggish. So weakly. Lifeless. Lethargic. She will never be able to even put up a fight once I lose my control!”

“She’s just like that because her aunt just died,” President Carlos took off his barong shirt, leaving him with his white undershirt on.

For some reason, Cjay felt his chest tighten. He could not figure out why he was so affected. He didn’t even spare a second to know why because he was so caught up in the moment. “That Hilda?” he asked in a low tone.

Could this be the effect of seeing someone in person before they died? That whether you were close or not, you would still feel uneasy when you find out that tragedy had befallen on them?

“Yes. And I also have to keep her here because of the things she said at the funeral.”

“What did she say?”

“She thinks it’s unfair,” he sighed, “that her aunt was killed when she was attacked by a zombie while you are given a chance to heal from the zombie virus. We have to either keep her here, get on her good side, or both, to make sure that she won’t do something that will affect our or the government’s image.”

“But she has a point,” he murmured. ‘Of all the victims, why me? Why only me? What is it about me that convinced my father and everyone here in Citadel to give me a chance to be medicated?’

“That’s why I am being cautious, Cjay!” The president unbuckled his belt. “As of now, she has a point, but she won’t understand that at this rate, what she wishes to happen is impossible. It’s still uncertain if the immortality pill can turn you into human again. And if ever it does, we still didn’t have a clue how long it will take to heal a zombie virus. We cannot take risks by having too many test subjects. Not a lot of medical experts have survived the epidemic, and not all those that are here in Citadel are willing to be around zombies.”

“So, that’s why I’m the only one who’s allowed to be the government’s experiment rat, huh?” he scoffed. “Me? The rational, manageable son of the president?” Sure, most people would tell him to be grateful. But for Cjay, it was irritating to think that his father would rather have him as an experiment’s test subject than other people. This situation was one of the things that created a gap in their relation as a father and son. It was hard to look at someone as your own father if they are the president of the country or spearheads an experiment and research that uses your own body as the ‘lab rat.’

“You know that that’s not how I see you, Cjay. You’re not a lab rat and you’re not being experimented at. This is a treatment procedure.” There was tightness in President Carlos’ voice, but his eyes were soft and pleading for his understanding.

He just shook his head and slowly raised his heavy hands in surrender. Cjay could drag this argument much longer but it would be pointless. This would lead them to nowhere but them doing things in his father’s way.

As Cjay put down his hands, he slightly lunged forward because of the heaviness of his dead body that made his balance unstable. He was used to it, so he immediately stepped forward to even his footing and stood up straight again.

While President Carlos was waiting for his reply, Cjay just turned around and left his bed room.