It was my first time deployed to conduct a zombie autopsy. Since the three weeks of this disaster, we’d been so busy coping with everything else that we hadn’t had time to properly study the problem.

I entered the morgue nervously, and there it was laying still on the smooth metal operating table. No one else in the room.

I proceeded to switch on the tape recorder and started with the usual documentation narration when suddenly a man burst into the room, carrying a machete. 

He looked at the zombie, at me, then back at the zombie and without warning he swung his machete and cut the thing’s head clean off. 

“Sorry, doctor. Next time don’t talk till you’re sure it’s dead,”

I must’ve looked silly, lost for words. 

“We’ve received more reports from the field. These things aren’t as stupid as we once thought. Now excuse me while I find the bugger who’s in charge of this Z autopsy project. His carelessness could’ve cost us…”

Suddenly i wasn’t so comfortable about being alone in the room with that… Thing.


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