Curative

By Kaimaler

Sooooo, the opening chapter was short, yeah, I know, but it was only meant to introduce you to the two OC's if only for a short while before actually explaining them or really delving into the story. :3

Longer chapters await ye! :D

He did it! He actually did it!

There, lying quietly on the table was once a walking corpse and now is living, granted, with such a slow heart beat that the heart monitor barely picked up. She was alive though and that meant his tests were valid.

"W-where... am I?" Her voice was little more then a whisper, her voice giving way to her dry throat and undead history.

He almost didn't hear her in his excitement, he had already began work on copying the formula that cured her and brought her back from the undead. Her just remembering him proved that it was all a success.

Though she was awake now, testing may become a little more stressful.

"Dad, what... what are y-you doin'?" Her head rolled slowly to the side to watch him work rapidly, his utter satisfaction was on display for any and all to see. He was smiling wildly, which concerned his daughter.

She'd not seen him look so happy in a very long time. It was extremely disconcerting. "Dad."

"Not now, I am quite busy." He replied swiftly as he crossed the room, messing with more things that only confused and worried her more.

Why was she strapped to a table like this? What had happened to her? This was clearly not a hospital, in fact, she vaguely remembered saying her goodbye's a little while ago... Or a long while ago.

My God. Her eyes went wide, she had died. Literally died. How was she here now then? She mustn't have died then, it wasn't possible to be dead and then to not be dead.

She thought she did, she had been bitten by one of the undead, she could feel the bite on the nape of her neck, it didn't hurt, it was just there. Why wasn't she undead then? Or maybe she is and this is what it was like to be part of the zombies. Was this how it felt? Why was she aware? How come she could talk? She would've thought that she wasn't actually speaking had he not replied to her.

Yet, she was strapped down to the table, did that mean she was still undead? Had she been here while she was undead? There was memories in her head that she couldn't place, almost like she had the memories of someone else. She could vaguely remember snipping at him, trying to bite, she was just so damn hungry. It hurt to even think about, to remember that the hunger was in her.

Now that she was more awake, she was still hungry.

So painfully hungry.

"D-Dad, I'm... I'm just... starving, so hungry. Can... I-I have s-something... anything... please?" She begged, gasping as her voice was so damaged she could barely form the words she needed. Dry, coarse, and stuttering, she tired to force sound from her throat, but the longer she spoke, the harder it became.

"I said not now, I am busy." He didn't even look up to her, he seemed to be ignoring her completely. The sheer pain in her stomach and chest made it hard to even think without her mind returning to her hunger.

She tried to look around, figure out where she is and what her father is doing. He seemed unaware of her existence as he shuffled from place to place, messing with strange things and vials, she hadn't a clue what he was doing.

The lab was a decent size, she figured she much be at one of his work places. Possibly the CDC he used to work at or his basement laboratory. She never been down to the basement lab so she couldn't recognize it if she was in it, and the last time she was at the CDC... well, it was quite some time ago. Wherever she was, she wanted to leave. Now.

Her voice was used up, every sound she attempted to make now ended up disappearing before it passed her lips.

As time went by, various issues began to appear. Her body felt very light, her head began to throb, but not hurt per say. The bite wound on her neck had loosened the skin there, the bite was still open, which caused discomfort, but no stinging pain. It was strange to feel a wound and feel nothing but the skin it broke.

Her hunger hadn't calmed down, she felt like she could devour all the food in the country, but he refused to sate her empty stomach.

She could feel her body a little better after about thirty minutes or so, she could feel the straps that held her tightly to the table, only her thin skin separated the leather strap from her bones. Her ribcage was constricted, her knees felt like they were being pulled down, and there was a metal restraint that held her head down. It was cold, but she didn't feel discomfort, only strain.

He approached her with a small tray of vials, half of them filled with liquids, the other half either completely empty or nearly empty.

"This, my dear, is the cure." He held up a vial, the burgundy liquid seemed flat and quite thick. He held it up in the light, examining the vial thoughtfully. "I used an experimental version on you, it was not hard to recreate the cure I gave you. I will need you for some time though, I must be able to document the progression of the cure in your bloodstream, find out how it is fighting the virus and if you recess."

She furrowed her brows, "R-recess?"

"Yes, I do not know if this cure is permanent. You may be alive for a short while before returning to an undead state. I am unsure if you will at all." He answered, unconcerned at her alarmed reaction.

"I... I w-was... undead?" She coughed roughly, her voice faded just about every syllable.

"You were, for quite some time. Which is why this cure is so promising, it has given you human-like awareness and control of your body, at least to a certain degree, after being infected for a prolonged period of time." He lowered a syringe to her arm, the needle resting lightly on the crook of her arm. "I must catalog your recovery... or your recession."

Her throat was tight, she didn't want to be undead again. That's what those memories were, they weren't someone elses nor an out of body experience, it was her time as undead that was very slowly coming back to her.

She tried to bite him, the hunger, the aching, the pain, her body was dying but she paid no heed, only wanted food and wanted it immediately. Her eyes stung, her body was starting to really return to its' living state.

He took instant notice of her returning human sentience. He inserted the needle, drawing blood from her. Her blood pressure was fatally low, her heart rate nearly non-existent, and her brain wasn't able to work as fast as usual.

In fact, when she tried to identify items or read labels, it would take her a good minute or so to read it or find the name. The syringe was already well away from her and he had begun working before she actually remembered what it was.

She felt so incredibly stupid.

The only sounds in the lab were those of her father working diligently and the gradually climbed grumble of her stomach. The initial loud growl from her stomach caused him to flinch and face her, as if he thought she returned to her previous undead illness. Yet there she was, watching him intently. She couldn't focus on anything but her stomach, the sounds demanding even more attention then the pain had been before.

Satisfied she hadn't turned, he continued his process. Mixing chemicals and recreating the cure he had used on her, it took a few hours to perfect the first version, which he stored away for later analysis.

Then, he began using that cure as a base for a better version, one that would hopefully make the infected test subject not just recover from their illness, but to restore the human body back to full power.

He realized he needed to test how well she was in control of her body, if she would still shuffle around lamely, if she was paralyzed, or if she could do anything a human could do normally; the restoration of the human being controlling their body again was a large part of the process. It was possibly second priority to actually returning the undead human back to being alive.

They had to be able to function properly, otherwise, this cure was also a failure.

He was so close now, he was about to make the breakthrough this infected world needed so desperately.

Days passed and her mind was still lazy, but her body was about forty-percent human functionality. She could move her hands and feet, the minimal amount of muscle left on her body responded to her demands and now she would wince when he drew blood or took tissue samples.

Clearly pain was dulled exponentially, but she claimed she could feel everything and as hours passes into days and days into weeks, the sense of touch and feeling was drearily making its' way back into her starving figure, now needles pinched, samples sting, and the chilliness of the lab crept up on her.

She was not keen on being strapped down for much longer, she was better and proved she wasn't about to recess at all. In fact, the infection, though strong and resilient, was just starting to fail against the cure he injected her with.

It had been two weeks, every second lasted minutes, minutes felt like hours, and the days felt like they never ended. She couldn't see the outside world, no sun or moon, she couldn't tell if it was midnight or noon. Unable to keep time, she preoccupied herself with trying to convince him to let her off the table, out of the lab, and back into her own bed.

Just like when she was a child, her constant complaints would ring in his ears and force him to respond whether he liked it or not.

Usually, he would muffle her with cloth or whatever he had on hand. Eventually though, he had to cave. Not only was her voice grating on his nerves and distracting him, but he also needed to see how well her motor skills were after so long of being undead and, when alive, lying on the test table.

Most likely she would be so weak she couldn't stand right, but to his surprise, when he finally released the restraints, she instantly jumped upright. Her head spun at the sudden movement, her body longed to be freed so bad that she couldn't stop herself when finally allowed to move again.

"Careful now, you are weak and your body needs to readjust to your weight. You might want some help." He grabbed two crutches, he couldn't risk her getting hurt right now. Not when he was about to finish the newest version of the cure, her progress must be followed in full detail.

Breaking a weak bone or extensive bruising could cause complications. With her blood pressure weak and her heart beat so slow, she will never heal as fast as a normal human, but blood loss barely even affected her. She could lose pints upon pints of blood before feeling any kind of repercussion. It was exciting, would be beneficial to a living world, but not right now.

She took the crutches anxiously and carefully rose from the table. Her legs were so weak, but seemed to be steadier then he originally assumed they'd be.

Her steps were unsure but promising, with every brave step she proved that his cure worked better then he thought it had.

She was in near complete control of her body, there are clearly a few issues, but most of them would be solved by frequent exercise and movement. When her muscles strengthened, she would be able to walk like a normal human again. Maybe a complication here or there... but...

Wait, what is that?

She was favoring her left leg, not in pain or anything so dramatic, but more like she couldn't stand on it as well as she could the other.

He tried to think what could cause it, permanent brain damage? Spinal injury? Ligament damage?

Then, he remembered.

The day she was bitten, she was trying to run from four determined undead and, out of necessity, jumped from the lower edge of a third storey building. Her leg was injured, it was why she failed to keep up with him and how that ill creature sunk its' teeth into her neck.

It hadn't healed obviously, it hadn't the time to do so. Since she was capable of putting some weight on it, he knew that it must be healing now judging by the extensiveness of the original injury, a cracked femur bone in the left leg.

She would require a brace of sorts to walk on it until it healed itself.

It usually took a long time as is, but with her blood and heart rate, it would take nearly twice as long. The recovery could have up to seven to eight months for it to finally heal properly.

In the meantime, he needed to wrap it and brace her leg, so she could walk and he could continue on his studies of her motor skills. Her injury would hinder him if he didn't treat it.

So he put down the vials and ducked into a walk-in supply closet, he had a remedy for this.

She watched curiously as he dug around, searching for the leg brace and supplies. Soon enough, he reemerged and bid her to take a seat on the table again.

Hesitant but compliant, she set the crutches off to the side and sat dutifully on the table she had been previously strapped to.

She knew something was wrong with her leg, but she didn't know what it was. There was a dull pain in her left leg, in her thigh, but he seemed to know exactly what it was, so while she didn't trust him one bit, she needed help if she was going to walk right again.

The black brace was simplistic, it was hard to believe something so thin and wiry could hold her up. He pulled up a chair and sat on her left side, pulling a small side table up that carried a small assortment of tools.

A few of them surgical tools which made her eyes go wide. She couldn't feel extreme pain, but it still hurt a little and while an operation is excruciating as a normal, living and awake person, her body would feel a decent amount of pain, regardless of her usual resistance.

He didn't go for those tools though and instead began to wrap her upper leg.

When she looked down she realized why her leg hurt a little bit, there was bone stretching the skin, not breaking it, she could just see the bone beneath the surface.

He gripped her leg tightly, right over the injury. She hissed and he shoved the bone down, she groaned in pain as it snapped back in place, the throbbing became a sharp pain before subsiding. The pounding in her leg didn't stop, but it didn't hurt so bad anymore.

After he was satisfied with the position, he wrapped it up, the band going from above her knee to her upper thigh before he closed it and brought up the brace.

It was so frail looking, but he didn't show any concern so she supposed she shouldn't either.

The oversized brace rested on where her thigh met her hip and went all the way down to her foot. The metal bar on her foot showed that she could wear shoes without a problem, they just had to have a little bit of a sole.

He grabbed a pair of shoes, her shoes, and slipped them on her feet, tying the laces before allowing her to inspect the brace.

He took hold of a screwdriver-like tool and began tightening the brace on her leg until it held so firmly that she couldn't twist her left leg, only move it side to side and back to back. The knee bent, but it had never been used so it was a little stiff.

He stood, moving the chair and table away again. "Now try."

The brace felt like it wouldn't ever let her move her leg, but once she applied enough pressure the knee bent easily and her leg swung down and her feet met the floor again.

This time, she felt much sturdier. The brace did wonders and she could walk a few steps before having any problems at all.

"I'm turning in for the night." He put his lab coat back on the rack. "I will be back early tomorrow morning, I want to test your physical capabilities and resistances. Goodnight."

She snapped her attention up from the brace on her leg, he just shut the door behind him right as she began heading towards it.

Shaking her head, she sat back on the table. She wanted to leave this cold heartless lab so bad, her hunger drove her mad and the tests were beginning to get to her, they hurt more and more every day. Sometimes it's as simple as the sting of a hair thin needle, others it was taking samples from her skin or open wounds, causing them to pulse and ache more.

Resting her hands on her braced leg, she sniffled quietly. She never hated her father, but she always felt like he was a stranger and she was his pet. Or his lab experiment.

Which, considering the latest developments, she was.

She had to leave, she hadto. This lab was a prison, but she wormed her way out before.

She started her plan to escape, her father wasn't a bad man... well, not as bad as some fathers out there. She just knew he was careless of her safety or comfort, he always had something to do, something to test, or to focus on. She was just caught on the bad end of the stick a few times.

Rubbing her sore neck, she laid back. In the next few days, she had to find a way out.

No matter what. She was so painfully hungry and though she wouldn't lie and say she hadn't wondered if her undead history allowed her to digest human meat, she immediately put the thought out of her mind.

But it was always there. In the darkest part of her head. He explained that the infection in her blood was purged, so she couldn't bite and expect them to turn, but various facets of her undead past still reared its ugly head and made her want to be violent and, at the same time, made her powerfully ill. Eating a human? Revolting.

She was just so goddamn hungry.

How the hell would she get out?