his arm, not touching the blood, but she’d be damned if she could see any kind of trickery. Her stomach felt hollow as his words began to take hold. Maybe he wasn’t crazy after all.
“Did they put my things in the closet?”
He seemed surprised by her question but went to check, opening the door to the small closet opposite her bed. She saw that some of her clothes and gear had been put in there, minus her firearms, of course.
“Would you mind bringing my utility belt over here?”
He didn’t say anything as he picked up the heavy black leather belt and brought it to her. It was still loaded with most of her gear. She sought and found what she was looking for—a small box cutter.
“Hey now…” He seemed ready to try to stop her.
“I’m testing your theory. If what you say is true, the same thing will happen to me, right?”
He seemed cautious. “It should. As I told you, there are only a handful of people who’ve survived to tell the tale after being infected. So far, all have the speed-healing thing. It’s likely you will, too.”
He folded his arms and leaned one hip against her bedside, down by her feet. He stood back, and his body language said he was prepared to let her do what she wanted. She liked that. He wasn’t trying to pressure her either way.
Holding her breath, she ran the sharp blade over her forearm. The cut was even shallower than the one he’d made. She didn’t want to do any real damage in case this guy really was a fruitcake. A thin line of blood welled in the shallow cut, then healed over. She wiped at the blood to find the cut, but it didn’t exist.
Damn. She tried again, making a shorter, deeper incision. It hurt like hell, but only for a moment. Then the healing began.
“It feels warm and kind of tingly,” she said aloud, cataloging the sensations.
Xavier nodded. “Does that for me, too. You want to take a look at your shoulder? There’s no bite mark up there. That’s why we didn’t realize you’d been attacked by two of them.” He opened the drawer in the bedside table and took out a small mirror. She took it with wide eyes.
He was on the level. She’d been attacked by…zombies. He’d called them zombies. Damn.
She tugged at the collar of her hospital gown, exposing her shoulder, then held up the mirror in her free hand. The other hand was attached to the IV and immobilized. Looking at her reflection, she was shocked to find her neck and shoulder were blemish free. Nothing marred her skin, not even a red mark. She lowered the mirror to her lap and reached to touch her shoulder, examining her skin with her fingers.
Nothing. Not a raised bump. Not a depression where a scar had formed. Nothing. It was as if she’d never been harmed, never been bitten.
“He sank his teeth into me right here.” She rubbed the spot absently. “I thought they were trying to eat me. The other one—” She broke off, remembering the pain in her thigh. Her gaze shot to the army captain. “The other one took a bite out of my leg, didn’t he?”
Gravely, Xavier nodded. “It’s repairing itself, but he got a piece of you. The docs are watching it closely. The skin and muscle are growing back at a really fast rate.”
Sarah felt queasy. Just the idea that someone—something, really—had eaten her flesh made her want to barf. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and uncertain stomach. Only one thing really mattered now.
“Did you catch them?”
Xavier straightened, all business once more. “Not yet. For one thing, until you woke up, we could only guess at what went on in that building. We assumed only one assailant. Now we know that one is making others.”
“Making others?” The thought sent shivers down her spine.
“The first man you saw. The one with the disfigured face. That’s a classic sign of someone who’s been attacked by one of these creatures. The victim is infected with the contagion and dies. A few hours later, his corpse rises and starts attacking others. For whatever reason, these creatures like to bite and infect more people, though they don’t seem capable of speech or other higher brain functions.”
“What’s with the claws?” Both of the perps had abnormally long, sharp, yellow fingernails that had scratched her skin.
“Something about the way they die and regenerate on a