SLURP. Munch. Lick. Suck. Natalia’s noises were trapped in her bedroom’s adjacent bathroom. Its four walls served as the lone and silent witness of her hasty meal, the left over dismembered human body parts that she took from Cjay’s meat freezer.

She was sitting at the cold floor tiles beside the open cabinet below the sink. Inside the cabinet, the uncovered, empty cooler box could be seen. Natalia put down her hands that still held a small piece of meat, then looked around cautiously. She immediately wiped the stains and spits around her mouth with the back of her arm. Next, she eyed on what she was eating. ‘Why does Cjay like his meat pulsing as if it’s still alive? It tastes better when it’s cold like this! It doesn’t feel like it’s moving on its own inside your mouth!’

Natalia put out her long, red tongue. The more it stretched out of her mouth, the more it thinned down until the tip looked like a needle. With the tip of her tongue, she teased a lick along the surface of the meat she was holding. As her tongue caressed its smooth, hard fibers, she closed her eyes in pure bliss. The texture just felt like the surface of a sweet, glossy candy! How she wanted to cry so much because finally, she was able to taste the food that she really wanted to eat!

Her tongue gently wrapped around the piece of meat. She slowly rolled it back to pull the meat back into her mouth, but she dropped her food when she gasped sharply. Terrified, she rolled back her tongue inside her mouth and shook her head. She could feel her heart thumping nervously upon remembering that this is her last meat!

‘I can’t be too confident. I don’t know when I’ll have the chance again to sneak out more meat from Cjay’s freezer. I have to save this one,’ she thought while gently picking up the meat with her thumb and forefinger.

Natalia quickly tossed it back inside the cooler box and covered it so that it would not tempt her to eat it up. Then, she wiped her lips and cheeks with her palms, closed the cabinet and leaned her back against its door. Her chest heaved in shallow breaths rapidly, making her heart drum faster as a sign of life. The more she ate a dead human’s meat, the more she felt alive.

All of a sudden, the liveliness was replaced by guilt. Because instead of respecting the dead, here she was, craving for corpse meat and enjoying it everytime she gets a taste of it. Here she was, feeling more recharged.

Next, she scrunched up her nose. ‘Zombie’s right. I stink. I smell like that. It’s bearable though, but if I were to introduce myself as his assistant in front of his manager and other people, I have to smell like a human.’ She turned her head to the shower stall that stood right beside her.

***

“WHY didn’t you ask her to join us?” President Carlos asked Cjay.

It was a miracle that Cjay got to have lunch with his father. Most of the time, President Carlos would eat in a hotel or restaurant—wherever he gets hungry due to his demanding job that required him to be all over the place 24/7.

“Why should I ask Natalia to join? I didn’t even know that you’ll be having lunch here,” he replied lifelessly, no pun intended, at his father who sat at the head of the table opposite him. Then murmured to himself, “Ever since I became a zombie, you seemed to intentionally avoid having meals with me.”

A grand, delicious banquet could be seen served on the dining table—from white rice to fried chickens and a bunch of yellow bananas. On Cjay’s side of the table, there were sliced human meats, spasming like beating hearts. Their blood were cleaned off, making them look more presentable for the president’s preference of what a presentable meal should look like or else he might lose his appetite.

“Whether I get to join you for lunch or not, you should be always with your assistant,” his father preached.

He grinned and scoffed with sarcasm. “I bet, Mousey intended to not join me too, that acting tough wimp who is actually scared of a zombie that eats people.”

“‘Mousey’ or ‘wimp’ is not a nice way to call your assistant, Cjay.” President Carlos commented sternly, his face slightly shadowed with graveness. “Have a little consideration, knowing that she's still grieving for her aunt’s death last night.”

That reminder made Cjay feel guilty. He could not explain why when he wasn’t even involved with that Hilda’s death. He didn’t even have the faintest idea that she would die too soon. Was it because he’s a zombie too, like that Aegis’ killer?

Cjay immediately shooed away from his thoughts whatever compassion or guilt he was feeling for her. “She’s ‘Mousey’ because she stinks like one. ‘Wimp’ because I’m a zombie at this point but she can’t even keep up with me when we’re jogging.”

“When will you care for other people, Cjay? Even just a little bit?”

Cjay resisted the urge to facepalm. From his father’s tone, he could tell that a long sermon was about to commence.

“You saw how malnourished she looks. Obviously, blame it on her poverty.” President Carlos’ hands began working with his spoon and fork. He was so careful not to stain his navy blue polo shirt with food. “What a tragedy that her aunt died too.”

“Why are you so affected? As far as I know, you’re in the government, not in a charitable institution,” he grinned, suppressing a heartless chuckle before grabbing a pulsing liver from one serving plate sliced to serve as a finger food for him. Cjay nodded his head a bit in approval. He liked the way the cook seasoned his liver.

Anger shadowed on President Carlos’ face. He was about to scold his son but suddenly held back when he recalled that Cjay’s attitude only started when he became a zombie. His son didn’t use to be this cocky and inconsiderate creature that was currently having lunch with him. Aside from that, Cjay seemed to have grown insensitive. He became so numb that nothing anyone does or says seemed to tug his heartstrings or pull any expected reaction out of him, so it would be useless for the president to scold his son.

On the other hand, Cjay could read his father’s silence. The zombie already knew what his father would say about his remark. President Carlos would most likely respond that the government may not be a charitable institution but its duty is to serve the people, that what he called ‘charity’ was ‘duty’ for his father. But to his surprise, his father dismissed his comment about the government.

“I’ll hurry my meal so that I can give Natalia a briefing about her job. I forgot to elaborate her tasks last night because she was still grieving.”

***

NATALIA pulled on a pair of blue jeans. Her top was a loose, orange button-down sweater with sleeves that reached her wrists. A white bath towel was wrapped around her head that held up her wet hair into a bun. It had been a minute and someone behind her door kept on knocking, so as soon as she was done buttoning her jeans, Natalia came to the door.

‘I can’t smell any stench. This isn’t Zombie.’

She took in a deep breath and readied herself before stepping back a little as she opened the door. At the same time, a PSG (Presidential Security Guard) in his white uniform stepped away from her door. Natalia noticed their long guns—black, shiny modern musket rifles hanging on their shoulders, tucked beneath their arms while pointing at her direction. As the guards stepped back, President Carlos stepped forward, meeting her at the doorway. They never shared smiles, but both of them politely exchanged acknowledging nods.

“Good morning, sir.” She stepped aside to let him in.

President Carlos looked at his guards over his shoulder, raised a hand to signal them to stay outside. When he walked into her room, he himself closed its door carefully.

“Natalia, right?” He was already looking for something to sit on.

“Opo, sir.” She said yes while standing firmly where she was and watching him, calculating his every move.

The president moved smoothly, confidently. He didn’t seem to have any problem with her because of how casual he looked in spite of not smiling at all. He seemed more genuinely curious as he looked around the room while pulling the chair from the vintage dresser table. He rotated the chair to face her direction before sitting on it.

“How are you, Natalia?” He stole a glance at her before he tried to sit propertly on the chair which seemed too small for him. For some reason, men like President Carlos seemed to prefer sitting with their thighs parted. “I understand that you’re having a hard time dealing with your Tita Hilda’s death—” He stopped abruptly and stared at her. After accepting to himself that he had run out fo things to say, he changed the topic. “What I mean is . . . how’s your stay here so far?”

Natalia walked and stopped beside her bed. She was having second thoughts whether to stay standing or sit on the bed. “It’s alright, sir.”

“You’ve already met Cjay. Is he giving you a headache already?”

Her smile crooked. At the back of her mind, she already wanted to start ranting, but that might leave a bad impression to the president and be interpreted as lack of professionalism. Natalia had to play her cards right if she wanted to survive, especially when she already had no one to rely on. Aunt Hilda was already dead. Since last night, she was already on her own.

“Just a little. Maybe it’s because we didn’t have that much of an interaction last night, sir.”

“Just a little?” His voice has a tinge of interest and amusement which also reflected in his eyes. She could not understand why he reacted that way.

Natalia sat at the side of the bed, facing the president’s direction. “I was looking for some water to drink last night,” she narrated. “We met in the kitchen. When I told him that I’m going to be his assistant, he seemed against it.”

The man lowered his head, chuckled lowly and slowly shook his head. “Of course, he doesn’t want an assistant, but having one or not is not up to him.” President Carlos met her eyes. “And he doesn’t have any choice. Either way, he should have an assistant.”

Natalia didn’t know what to say about that. She was wondering though what the president’s real objective for visiting her room. How she wanted him to hurry up and leave already. She wanted to be alone because that was more comfortable for her.

He seemed to have read her mind and finally told her what brought him to her room. “You are still grieving last night, so I did not give you any briefing about your work. It’s also too early for you to start today, but . . . you really have to. My son has a lot of work and colleagues waiting for him to come back.”

“It’s alright, sir,” she answered. “Personal issues must not get in the way of one’s responsibilities and profession. You can brief me now about my job.”

“Okay.” President Carlos sat straight and propped his hands on each one of his knees. The president sat with his thighs slightly parted, a sign of his comfort and ease to disregard poise and manners inside the Malacañang palace as if it was already his home. “To be honest, your work is a little too demanding, Natalia.

At the break of dawn, you should be already up to wake up Cjay for his morning jog. Ideally, he must jog at around five in the morning, when the sunlight isn’t too hot. Or else, he will sweat too much and sweating . . . is not really good for him. It hurts him a lot. You have to keep your eyes glued on him 24/7. You are responsible for reminding him about his work schedules and his personal routines.”

She was both appalled and bewildered. ‘Even the personal routines? Like what? Like bathing?’

Natalia started imagining scenarios to process everything. Based on what President Carlos had shared so far, she could already visualize her shaking Cjay’s arms and shoulders while he was still sleeping. And as a result, the annoyed, sleepy zombie sat up and attacked her arm. She screamed while waving her arm in a poor attempt to get him off of her. Then, her mind came to a different scenario. In this one, she was holding a clipboard. While reading Cjay’s schedules to him out loud, he was sitting on the dining table, feasting on spasming human meat and dishes that covered the whole table. Natalia would try to resist the inviting smell, but she would suddenly give it up, hug the clipboard, and swallow her drool repeatedly while staring hungrily at Cjay with her growling stomach . . .

“You’ll help him get dressed,” President Carlos resumed, unaware that he was talking to the potential cause of his own son’s fatal end. “And be very careful because there were times when the materials of his clothes are too coarse his dry skin gets caught. Pulling his clothes with his skin caught on it can, you know, peel it off and cause a lot of bleeding.”

Natalia grimaced.

“You’ll help him wipe his sweat too. I think you’re aware that he’s a public figure, he has to look presentable so it’s also part of his daily routine to use makeup to conceal the grayness of his skin.”

‘Makeup?’ she gaped in horror.

“Is there something wrong?” The president’s sharp eyes noticed the sudden reaction that registered on her face.

She chuckled awkwardly at first. Lately, laughing had been her poor attempt to hide her tension, and also her new strategy for other people to take less offense about what she was going to say. “I didn’t know anything about makeup, sir . . .” She hung down her head, embarrassed.

Natalia felt the president’s eyes staring at her. Just when she thought he would comment something stereotypical like, a girl like her should know makeup . . .

“It’s okay.” He smiled understandably. “Cjay knows his makeup. He can instruct you how it’s done, but you have to study it, Natalia, because there will be photoshoots, TV show guestings, or public appearances . . . Cjay can’t reach every part of his body, so we need your help with the makeup as well.”

“Don’t he have any makeup artist?” her forehead creased.

A sad smile took place on his face. “None. That’s one of the reasons why it’s important for Cjay to have an assistant. You see, no matter how the people appear welcoming toward my son, what they really think of him comes out in the open when they are already with him” His eyes darted at the other side of the room with a faraway look. “Whenever people are with my son, they are still scared of him. Most of them didn’t want to get close or be touched by him.”

She was about to say something when the door was kicked open by one of the PSGs.

“Mr. President!” one of them boomed as the two stepped into the room with big, horror-striken eyes and pale faces. “We received a report that Sir Cjay is at the west wing of the palace! He’s going berserk!”

President Carlos jumped off of his seat. He paled in horror, but she could see it on his face that his fear was not of his son but for his son.

“Don’t hurt my son,” he spoke in a tight voice, as if controlling his emotions. He took big steps and went out of the door first, followed by his guards. He turned to the guard on his right. “Tell the responding guards to lead Cjay into one of the bedrooms in the west wing! Trap him there!” Then, to the guard on his left. “You. Come with me to the surveillance room.”

The three were out of her sight first, followed by their echoing voices slowly fading along with the rushing thumping of their feet. Natalia was left dumb-founded, still sitting at the side of the bed.

‘Should I search for Zombie or not? If I help, they might suspect that there’s something weird about me. They mind find out that I am a—’

President Carlos and his men left her bedroom door open, that’s why, Natalia clearly saw Cjay on the hallway. He just got in front of her door and was about to pass by when he saw her in his peripheral vision and froze in shock, like a culprit caught sneaking around. He slowly turned his head to face her direction. Cjay looked like a human because of his makeup, but redness surrounded his crazed eyes.

Natalia’s eyes widened as their gazes met.