The soldier who'd led Jane into the Medical trailer, announced their arrival. "Sir, the subject is cleared to proceed."

"Well, can the subject at least get a robe or something?" Jane asked bitterly. "Or one of those lab coats maybe?" She scanned the medical trailer and saw all sorts of things that would help conceal her partial nudity. "I'm feeling a bit exposed."

"Funny you should mention," said Ramirez turning toward Jane from an open cabinet. He approached her, passing what appeared to be a makeshift gynecologist's examination chair with an articulating spotlight trained right between the stirrups. "I was just about to ask you to lose the bikini."

"What?"

"I mean, I suppose you could keep the top on..." he looked to the soldier still holding onto Jane's arm. "Thank you private, you're dismissed." The soldier nodded, released his grip and left the trailer without another word.

"Wait, what is happening here?" Jane said, looking around at the other few soldiers in the room—sentinels positioned by the door she'd just come through. They looked eager and hungry, licking their lips and swaying back and forth in anticipation. "What the fuck is going on? And you," she pointed to Ramirez, "are definitely not a doctor."

"Not in the traditional sense, no, but I'm still going to be the one that checks if your insides are working," Ramirez said. The two other soldiers stepped in, grabbed Jane by the wrists and led her over to the exam chair.

"What? Seriously? You're going to rape me?" she snapped, the indignation rising in her voice. "Fucking rape a zombie? Jesus, you're fucking pathetic! Evidently the end of the world didn't end patriarchal injustice!" Jane was struggling against the other soldiers as they bodily lifted her into the chair and commenced with strapping her down.

"You a fucking feminist?" Ramirez asked as he oversaw the process, still revealing nothing with his expression.

"When I'm about to get raped, I am!"

"Convenient."

"You know you're going to catch the virus doing this, right? Is that what you want you goddamn maniac?" she screeched.

Ramirez grinned maliciously. "We're not going to catch anything we don't already have."

She processed the comment for a second. "You're zombies? You're fucking... kidding!"

"No joke. You could bite us all day long and it wouldn't mean a thing—if you're into that kinky shit."

Well, that explains a lot—like why Jane wasn't feeling the desire to attack the soldiers. There was no allure in dead flesh.

Ramirez waited for the other soldiers to finish securing Jane to the chair. Her ankles were crudely tied up in the stirrups, her wrists tied to the metal legs of the table with nylon ropes. She fought against the restraints, but they held fast. Ramirez nodded to the soldiers and they stepped back, resuming their posts near the door to the trailer.

"Jesus," Jane said. "I fucking hate zombies."

"Self-loathing is unbecoming," Ramirez retorted, eyeing Jane greedily. He slowly pulled off his gloves like a movie villain and gingerly placed his hands on the insides of her thighs. "How are you still warm?" he asked no one in particular. He slid his rough hands higher, and Jane squirmed. "Relax, it's not rape... I mean, you won't feel anything, it'll just be... well... okay, it is rape but whatever. It's what's gotta be done. And hopefully this time, it will work."

"So what? This is old hat for you? You've been raping zombies for a while now, have ya?" She tried to sound strong, fearless, but her fight or flight responses were spastically firing in her brain, equally dispensing rage and a cold wave of panic through her bones.

"Yeah, quite a few... but none looked like you."

"Really? Are you actually trying to flatter me right now?" she said, gritting her teeth.

"Just take the compliment. Jesus. I'm not trying to diminish you or prove my superiority by telling you you're hot. If I opened a door for you, would it be some grand insult to your gender?" His brow creased. Jane figured he had probably been in his fair share of situations in which he'd had to defend his misogyny.

"Uh, asshole... what do you want me to do? Thank you? You're about to violate me! I feel like any compliments you're offering are going to fall a little flat."

Ramirez thought for a second. "Fair enough," he said. "You do have a nice body though. Hopefully pregnancy doesn't ruin it."

"Yes, my steady diet of skunk meat and spiced rum has done wonders for my figure," Jane hissed, doing her best to seem intimidating and realizing she sounded a bit like Frank. "Now get your fucking hands off me!"

Ramirez wasn't having it. "Calm yourself. Do I need to gag you too?"

"But wait... you said we couldn't feel anything. I mean, we're both zombies. What's the point here? Or is this just you satisfying some sick perversion—or showcasing your dominance over a female?" Jane was grasping. Doing her best to stall and give her time to come up with a plan. Anything.

"More convenient feminism. Nice. But no. The plan here is the proliferation of our species. The zombie species. B.4 zombies, like you and... well all of us here at the base."

"This is a breeding farm?"

"Hopefully. If things go according to plan."

"Well, if this is just about trying to get me pregnant, couldn't you just artificially inseminate me—you know... a turkey baster or, egg harvest. I don't know, grow a bunch of test tube babies?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"First off... gross. But wait... you don't feel it either. I mean... can you even get hard?"

Ramirez unbuckled his tactical belt, removed it from around his waist and clunked it down on a nearby chair then unzipped. "Turns out, Viagra still works after you're dead."

Ramirez pulled out a massive, very veiny and pulsating erection. Jane's eyes widened, anticipating the pain... but then she remembered the gunshot and the stab wound. If those hadn't hurt, how much damage could a huge porno-dick do? Not that she was talking herself into it—but at least it wasn't going to be a physically painful endeavor. Emotionally painful... sure.

"And you can cum?" she asked, having a brief moment of being outside the situation and simply wondering about the mechanics.

"Buckets," Ramirez said, letting his erection bob in the tense air between them.

"Again... gross."

"So... let's get started, shall we?" He smiled pleasantly.

"I'd rather not."

"Well then... rape it is."

Ramirez slid a finger under the hem of Jane's bikini bottoms, hooking it and pulling it away from the skin. Jane writhed and cursed but Ramirez was too busy examining her vagina to notice.

"Pretty," he said. "But dry as a bone."

"Sorry to inform you... I'm not actually into this."

"Doesn't matter," he said, grabbing a bottle of lubrication from a shelf nearby. He was stroking himself out of habit as he walked back to Jane. "I wish I could say this was going to hurt... but you know..." He squeezed a huge dollop of lube onto his girth and stroked some more. "That should do it." His erection was shining in the florescent lights, looking oddly neon and mean. It really was big—to the point where—had this been the before times, and had Jane just met this shit-heel in a bar some night and ended up back in his shady basement apartment, drinking cheap beer and smoking old joints, she might have just looked at the thing, grabbed her bag and said... nope.

She said it now, just in case. "Nope."

"Don't think you've got a choice, sweetheart," Ramirez said as he inched closer and untied the bikini strings at Jane's hips. He yanked the bottoms away, dropping them to the floor and placed the head of his dick at the threshold. She could feel it there, solid and cold, radiating threatening energy like a predator about to take down its prey.

This was actually happening.

Just imagine it's Frank, she said in her head.

Hollow popping sounds, like distant neighborhood fireworks began outside. Within a few seconds, they increased in rapidity. Jane looked toward the door, seeing the confused expressions on the soldier's faces. Suddenly, the entire medical trailer shook violently as an incredibly loud and close explosion sent the windows erupting into the room. Thin shards of glass rained down from a few broken florescent tubes on the ceiling, throwing the room into a blinking half-light. The two guards by the door were knocked off their feet and Ramirez fell into the wall to the right of the gyno-chair, liberally lubed penis flinging wet splotches on the cabinets. Test tubes, beakers and a random assortment of tongue depressors and swabs cascaded off the shelves, their glass jars shattering on impact. Jane saw shards of the burst window's stuck into her midsection and left arm. She blinked repeatedly trying to see through the dust in the air, noticing a section of the wall had been sheared off by the blast. Through the swirls of black smoke outside, she could see soldiers mobilizing, running back toward the holding tent in a frenzy. They were shouting and discharging their weapons as they ran.

"What the fuck was that?" Ramirez said, coughing as he regained his feet.

Jane noticed, one of her wrist restraints had become loose, cut by flying glass, she slipped her hand out and grabbed the closest thing she could. The lube. She aimed it at Ramirez's dazed face and squeezed hard. The clear goo streamed out, hitting its mark, coating his eyes, nose and mouth.

Perfect money shot.

He stumbled back a step and wiped at his obstructed vision. Stingy slime dripped from his chin, creating dark tear-shaped marks as it soaked into his uniform shirt. Jane was quickly undoing her restraints, managing to get her other hand and one of her legs free as the two soldiers on the floor began to regain their bearings, trying to process what was happening around them. They were still shaking their heads and pulling glass out of their faces.

Jane hopped off the table, her one leg still attached, yanked Ramirez's sidearm from its holster where it sat on the chair, clicked the safety off and jammed the business end under his dripping chin. She pulled the trigger and flinched as the top of Ramirez's head erupted, coating the back wall in chunks of brain and blood. He slumped to the floor—a marionette with its strings cut.

She immediately turned to the final restraint, managed to free herself and directed her attention to the other two soldiers. She registered the feeling of her bare feet being sliced to shreds as she traversed the glass covered floor in a matter of seconds. She placed the barrel at the dusty temple of one of the soldiers and fired. His neck snapped to the side, following the spray of tissue and bone fragments. The other soldier realized what was happening and fumbled to get his rifle out from under a fallen cabinet. Jane stepped over to the guy, pointed the gun between his eyes and pulled the trigger. The soldier went slack. She reached down and grabbed a set of keys off his belt.

"Fucking zombies," she said wiping blood off her face.