The Clinic

The first thing Zoe became aware of was the nagging, insistent voice of the Brewmaster System echoing in her head. It was familiar, sharp, and somehow both comforting and irritating all at once.

"Well, well, Carter," the system chimed, its tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who's decided to grace the land of the living. I was beginning to think you would leave me all alone to deal with this apocalyptic mess. That's hardly fair, wouldn't you agree?"

Zoe groaned, a deep, guttural sound of annoyance. Her mouth was dry, her head throbbed, and her entire body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. "Shut up," she muttered hoarsely, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just… shut up."

The system didn't reply, though Zoe swore she could feel it smirking in the recesses of her mind. She tried to open her eyes but found them glued shut by a mix of exhaustion and dried sleep. She forced them open with effort, blinking against the harsh light that filtered through the room.

A broad grin filled her blurry vision as Darren suddenly leaned into her line of sight, his face practically glowing with relief.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with an almost childlike joy. Zoe, you scared the hell out of us!" He sat back in the chair beside her bed, but the grin never left his face. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Zoe blinked a few times, trying to piece together what was happening. The room came into focus slowly. She was in a small clinic—clean but cramped, with shelves stocked haphazardly with medical supplies. The faint smell of antiseptic clung to the air. Her gaze shifted, noting several faces she didn't recognize.

"What… where am I?" she croaked, her throat feeling like sandpaper.

Darren quickly poured a glass of water from a pitcher onto the table beside him and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, sipping cautiously as the cool liquid soothed her dry throat.

"You're in the clinic," Darren explained. "You've been here for a while. We'll catch you up on everything, but first, how are you feeling?"

Zoe let the question hang in the air as she processed her surroundings. Her body felt weak, her limbs heavy, and her mind foggy, but she was alive. She set the glass down on the side table and glanced at the people around her. A woman with short, dark hair stood nearby, her arms crossed. Next to her was a tall man with piercing blue eyes and an expression of quiet curiosity.

The realization hit her suddenly, and her eyes widened.

"How long… how long was I out?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Darren's grin faltered, and his face darkened into a grim frown.

"Two weeks," he said quietly. "You were out for two weeks, Zoe."

The weight of his words sank into her like a stone. Two weeks. She'd lost two entire weeks in a world where every second mattered. She opened her mouth to speak, but Darren continued.

"Dr. Torres," he gestured toward the dark-haired woman, "had to focus entirely on keeping you alive until Dr. Hayes got here."

The woman—Dr. Torres, apparently—nodded as Darren spoke.

"You flatlined a couple of times," Dr. Torres added, her voice sharp but laced with emotion. "You had me absolutely panicking. Do you know how many people in this city rely on you? I couldn't let you die without putting up a fight."

Zoe's gaze shifted to the tall man. Dr. Hayes, Darren had called him. He stood silently, his arms folded, but his presence was commanding. Dr. Torres turned to him.

"This is Dr. Hayes," she said, her tone softening. "He has a healing ability. Without him, you wouldn't have made it, not with what we have on hand for medical purposes."

Dr. Hayes gave Zoe a slight nod, his piercing blue eyes studying her intently.

"You were in rough shape," he said, calm and measured. "But you're strong. Your body fought hard, and with some help, you pulled through."

Zoe didn't know what to say. Gratitude and confusion mingled in her mind, but before she could respond, Darren spoke up again.

"How did you even get injured in the first place?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair. "All we know is that a bunch of the traps in the safety zone outside the coffee shop were triggered, and the steel wire net trap was holding a glowing zombie. It's still dangling there because we can't figure out how to safely get rid of it. It's too high off the ground to hit with a killing blow, and letting it down is out of the question. Someone else would get hurt."

His voice was laced with both concern and frustration as he continued.

"What were you doing, Zoe?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken worry. Zoe's eyes darted around the room, and she realized that the other people present—Dr. Torres, Dr. Hayes, and a couple of others she didn't recognize—were all watching her expectantly. Even Darren's usual joviality was replaced with a hard-edged seriousness.

"Yeah, what happened?" another voice piped up, and murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

Zoe's cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her lap, suddenly feeling very small. Her hands fidgeted with the blanket draped over her legs. She couldn't bring herself to meet anyone's gaze.

"Not now," she said quietly, her voice barely audible. She cleared her throat and repeated, a little louder this time, "Not now. I'll tell you later."

The room fell silent, the tension thick and uncomfortable. Darren opened his mouth to press further but seemed to think better. Instead, he leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

Zoe glanced up hesitantly, her eyes flicking between the concerned faces surrounding her. Her stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence and drawing a few surprised chuckles from the others.

"I'm really hungry," she said sheepishly, a weak smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Dr. Torres let out a small laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Well, that's a good sign. I'll see what we can scrounge up for you."

As the others began to move about, discussing food and giving Zoe a moment to breathe, she leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion pulling at her despite her earlier rest. Her mind churned with everything she'd learned in the last few minutes. Two weeks. The glowing zombie. The people she didn't recognize. And most of all, the weight of their questions still lingered in the back of her mind.

She knew she couldn't avoid the truth forever. But for now, she focused on the simple, undeniable fact that she was alive.