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“I didn’t mean it like that!” I hastily amended, but it was too late. Nova had gone upstairs, out of earshot, and I was once again locked in my room for the night.
It was so unnerving to lose my freedom – as limited as it was – so soon after regaining it. Was she really locking me up to keep me safe, like some kind of injured raccoon? Did she literally view me as an animal in need of rescue, and she was treating me as such?
After the middle-of-the-night zombie attack, I struggled to fall back to sleep, but I eventually did just before dawn. It must’ve been a very deep sleep, because I woke up to my bedroom door open.
I got up and hobbled out to begin preparing breakfast, but the bonfire caught my eye. I made my way over to the big picture window in the living room to get a better look at it. Right out on the side lawn, away from all the trees and buildings and animal habitats, Nova had made a bonfire out of the zombie bodies, and she was watching it burn with Frost and Sable sitting beside her.
With the firelight dancing across her face, I noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks.
I realized once again that I did not know enough about this person, and my life was essentially in her hands. I needed more insight into who she really was, and I only knew of one way to get it.
I hurried over to the cardboard box in the corner. When I opened it, Sage’s journal was sitting right on top. I grabbed it, closed the box, and hid the journal under my bed to read when I had the chance.
When I returned to the kitchen, the fire was still raging outside, and Nova still watched with her wolves.
17
Sage
How can one determine the sentience of a “zombie?”
I know I previously stated that I would avoid using that pejorative, but I think it is the only way to properly express the situation I am dealing with. Ordinarily, if a human were to fall ill with any kind of infection, there would be no question of their sentience. Even in those that cause dramatic cognitive or behavior changes, such as dementia or schizophrenia, the patient is always considered human, regardless of their abilities to care for themselves or function in society.
My belief that infected humans are in fact still human is not unique to myself, although it is unfortunately not as popular as one would hope in a compassionate society. There were groups that championed “Dignity in Death,” but even their campaigns were often more about ethical euthanasia versus militaristic attacks as opposed to finding out if there was any capacity for the infected to live a life without harm.
In my time here at the farm, I am seeking to discover more about the virus and the infected, and I mean to investigate it beyond biology. My lack of virology experience and proper equipment makes it unlikely that I will be able to find a cure for the virus, but I do hope to understand it better.
To fully study it, I have required an infected human subject. I am unable to obtain consent, but I see no other way to help the infected or those of us who wish to remain uninfected. My sister and I set up a large animal trap in the yard, baiting it with fresh meat from a deer Nova hunted.
The infected seem to be attracted to the scent of humans, but blood in general also has a powerful draw for them. It only took two days for one to stumble into the trap.
Because of my sister’s work with wildlife, she had a catch all pole, Kevlar gloves, and unusually large muzzle on hand. It took careful planning and hard work, but we were able to safely catch and muzzle the infected human without any injury to anyone.
He is a young white male, approximately nineteen years old. He is 5 ft 11 inches tall, and he weighed 122 pounds on arrival. He is emaciated with deep cuts on his hands. His pupils do not react to light, and he does not respond appropriately to most stimuli.
I have decided to call him Adam, because I can’t know his real name, and giving him a number seems too impersonal. I cannot ask for his consent or permission in any of this, so it is imperative that I treat him with respect.
We have set him up in an enclosure at the edge of the farm. We have provided him with water, which he always refuses, and uncooked red meat, which he devours even though it is not human flesh. When he is served vegetables, eggs, or poultry, he is completely disinterested, but both bear meat and deer meat have been eaten.
He has not shown any interest in the various comforts we have provided for him: blankets, linens, and straw bedding. He has not laid down or sat once that we have seen, but he does have certain times of the day where he stands motionless for several hours that could be something akin to sleep.
Temperature does have an effect on him, but he does nothing to change his situation. He moves around more when it is warm outside, but if it is freezing cold or raining, he will stand virtually motionless. However, he makes no effort to return to the indoor portion of his enclosure.
It is hard to know exactly if Adam has “wants” or what they might be, so it would not be fair to say that he wants to leave the enclosure he is kept in. That said, he does seem to make simple attempts at breaking out. These primarily include walking into the fencing multiple times per day, but without enough effort or strength to actually do it. He appears more like a sleepwalker stumbling unknowingly into a wall.
Over the past several weeks, Adam’s overall demeanor has changed. Initially, he was very aggressive during any interaction we had with him. He would try to bite us through the muzzle and gloves, and he would thrash at us when he couldn’t.
For the first few weeks, my sister and I kept a strict schedule. In the morning, we’d muzzle him so we could clean his enclosure. Adam releases an oily black excrement every day that is potent and offensive, and it needs to be removed every morning.
While he is muzzled, I draw blood if needed for the laboratory work, and I also tend to any wounds he may have gotten. He frequently suffers from cuts and bruises from running into walls, trees, fences, anything around him. Once that is done, he is fed, and then he is left alone for a while.
In the afternoon, he is let out in the fenced outdoor area. During this time, my sister and I attempt various enrichments with him. We play music, give him toys (tennis balls, stuffed animals, the bones Nova gives her dogs), and talk to him through the fence.
He always responds to noises of any kind, and he will also follow our scent if we are quiet, sniffing the air as he tracks us. Beyond that, he shows no interest in any of the things we have given him. If we tossed a ball at him, he would make no motion to catch it or move out of the way.
In the early days of Adam’s time on the farm, he would run at the fence when we were around for enrichment. He would chase our scent, frothing at the mouth and growling.
In the forty-seven short days he’s been with us, all of that has almost entirely stopped. He no longer thrashes or fights us when muzzled, although we still do not dare handle him without our gear. During enrichment, he will trail after us, but more like a dog following an owner and less like a rabid animal hunting us.
