CHAPTER THIRTEEN: POISONED TO SAVE HUMANITY
1196 Words
Ron had barely finished chewing on a piece of the semi-warm boiled yam Jerry smuggled into the hospital when Lady Hew stormed back into the ward with an expression like she’d just seen a ghost, a tax auditor, and a snake—all at once.
Behind her trailed another doctor, a petite woman with glasses that kept sliding down her nose and a nervous smile that screamed, “I’m about to say something wild, please don’t faint.”
“Ron,” Lady Hew said, marching forward, “We need to talk.”
Ron wiped yam crumbs off his lips. “If it’s about Wyonne again—”
“It’s not,” Lady Hew snapped. “This is serious.”
The second doctor stepped forward. “Mr. Ron... we, um, we ran your blood tests. Several of them. Then re-ran them. Then called a specialist in Borno who thought we were joking.”
Ron blinked. “Okay?”
“You have poisoned blood,” she said brightly, like she was announcing he’d won a talent show.
Jerry dropped his spoon.
“I’m sorry, what now?” Ron sat straighter, squinting.
Lady Hew took over. “Your blood contains a rare biological toxin. Not harmful to you—but absolutely lethal to certain mutated strains of the zombie virus.”
Ron blinked. “So... I’m a walking mosquito repellent?”
“More like a walking vaccine,” the other doctor said excitedly. “When we tested the blood sample on infected tissue in the lab, the tissue—died. Instantly.”
Ron scratched his head. “So I’m poisoned... and it’s a good thing?”
“Not just good,” Lady Hew said, her voice tight with urgency. “It’s a miracle. A cursed miracle. If we can synthesize this toxin, we might be able to save entire cities. But... we need more. We need to know where it came from.”
Ron hesitated. His eyes darted to Jerry, then to the corner where Mami sat dozing off with a threadbare headscarf sliding off her head.
“You mean... you want to farm my blood?”
“No!” Lady Hew said quickly, then added, “Well... yes. But humanely! Carefully! Respectfully!”
The other doctor nodded furiously. “Ethically! With juice boxes and biscuits after every donation.”
Ron frowned. “But how did my blood get like this?”
“That’s what we want to know,” Lady Hew said. “It’s not a known mutation. Not from genetics, not environmental. Something—or someone—changed you.”
And right on cue, a low, menacing growl vibrated from the far end of the room.
They turned to see Minos, half-shadowed by the swinging ward curtain, his yellowish eyes narrowed like a lion whose dinner was being discussed without consent.
Ron stood quickly. “Minos! Hey, buddy. You, uh, you wanna go get fresh air?”
Minos stepped in, sniffed, and snarled. “They’re asking too many questions.”
The second doctor gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, you brought your... friend?”
Minos growled again.
Lady Hew narrowed her eyes. “Wait... is this the one who’s always around you?”
Ron scratched his neck. “Yeah... he’s kinda like family. Uh, distant family. From... the mountains. Real quiet folks.”
Minos snarled louder. “If they try to take your blood again, I’ll eat their arms.”
The room went still.
Lady Hew took a cautious step back. “Did he just say—”
“Yes,” Ron muttered. “Minos is... expressive today.”
The second doctor gulped. “Is his voice... that deep normally?”
Minos raised his head, eyes glowing faintly. “You’re poking at something sacred. My blood runs in his now. You try to take more, you deal with me.”
And then he howled.
A full-throated, spine-shaking, animalistic howl that shattered every illusion of normalcy in the hospital. Windows rattled. Distant babies began to cry. A security guard dropped his tea. Somewhere on the second floor, a nurse screamed, “JESU!!!”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “Minos. What are you doing?!”
Minos snarled, now fully visible—his skin grayish under the light, veins pulsing dark blue, teeth a little too long for comfort. “They need to know. I am not one of them. I am a half-zombie. A hybrid.”
“You could’ve just said that softly!” Ron shouted.
Lady Hew turned slowly to Ron, eyes wide in shock. “Wait. He’s the source?”
Before Ron could answer, the hospital intercom blared. “Security to Ward C. Repeat: Unidentified biohazard in Ward C. All units respond.”
Jerry peeked through the blinds. “Uh... big problem. I see black vans outside. With men. Holding guns. And—yep—they’re wearing those anti-zombie helmets.”
Mami sat up, groggy. “Eh? Who dey fight zombie again?”
Ron groaned. “Minos, you just howled your way into a military lockdown.”
Minos bared his teeth. “Let them come.”
Lady Hew pointed at the door. “No! No one’s fighting anyone. Do you know how many protocols you just broke?! You’re a walking biological breach!”
“I’m a walking truth,” Minos said solemnly, puffing his chest like a zombie Martin Luther King.
BANG!
The door burst open, and eight heavily armed State Security Officers rushed in like it was World War III. Red lasers danced around the room. One officer shouted into a megaphone, “STEP AWAY FROM THE HALF-REANIMATED ENTITY!”
Another pointed directly at Minos. “On the floor, undead freak!”
Ron dove in front of Minos. “Wait! He’s not like the others! He eats egusi soup! He’s half-human!”
Minos, growling softly, added, “...and jollof rice. Extra pepper.”
The team looked confused. One officer whispered, “Did that thing just say jollof rice?”
“Yes!” Ron cried. “He’s with me. He saved me. He’s the reason my blood can kill the virus!”
The room fell quiet.
One of the officers, apparently the commander, lowered his weapon. “You’re saying... this half-dead man is your biological savior?”
Lady Hew stepped forward. “That’s correct. I can confirm it. We need him alive. We need to study this.”
The officers exchanged nervous looks.
Ron turned to Minos. “Can you, please, for once, act like a gentle corpse?”
Minos sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor. “Fine. I will not eat anyone. For now.”
The commander spoke into his comms. “Cancel the shot. I repeat—cancel. We’ve got a friendly zombie.”
Mami blinked. “What in heaven’s rice is a friendly zombie?”
Ron collapsed back onto the bed, arms over his face. “This is insane.”
Jerry sat beside him, grinning. “On the bright side, your blood’s famous now.”
Lady Hew nodded. “You may be humanity’s only hope.”
The second doctor whispered, “We’re gonna need a LOT of blood draws.”
Ron groaned. “You people better bring the juice boxes. And sushis”
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