Day 24: simply having a wonderful christmas time

Addison jerked awake, an uneasiness stirring in her stomach. Her bedroom was dark and quiet, save the soft snores of her husband beside her. She turned and shook his shoulder, ignoring his groans of protest.

"Addy, it's the middle of the night," he complained.

"Something's wrong," she whispered.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "What is?"

"I've got a-a weird feeling," she said. "Stay awake, please? I'm gonna check on the kids."

Zed sat up while Addison slid out of bed. She went and turned on their room light, then went over to Zander's crib in the corner of their room, peering in on him. Her eyes went wide, Zander's two years old form curled and tensed, a blue tint to his skin and his Z-band red.

"Zed!" she cried, whipping around to him. He was already rushing out of bed and to her, standing beside her. "Shit, I-I don't think he's breathing!"

His eyes shifted between her and his toddler, panic clear on his face. "What do we do, what do we do!" Addison said frantically.

Zed cursed in Zombie tongue, taking a step away. "CPR? Right that makes sense? CPR should—I don't—what do we do?"

Addison furrowed her brows and turned around. She was trained for this, she needed to be for her job. Her heart still pounded because this was so much different.

'Focus Addison!'

She worked on autopilot, confirming that he was, in fact, not breathing first, then giving him rescue breaths. She went to chest compressions, getting through two before Zander gasped, then wailed, crying weakly. She sighed in relief, picking up her toddler and cradling him on his side.

Fifteen minutes later, Zed and Addison were in the hall of the children's emergency room with Zander's doctor. Zenia was under the care of Bucky and Eliza, dressed in their pajamas and winter coats. It was two in the morning, three days before Christmas, and by some miracle, they had gotten Dr. Margaret Stevens, who they knew as Peggy. She was a junior when they were freshmen in high school and, like most of the younger doctors in the area, had studied Zombie medicinal practices.

"We've got a medical team from Zombie Containment on their way," Peggy explained. "His test results should be back within the next hour, but we've put him on ECMO for the time being. It'll regulate his heart and breathing until we can be certain on our next course of action."

"Is there anything you can tell us right now?" Addison asked, tired and desperate.

"There's no fever, no obvious signs of illness. He's stable." Peggy simplified. "It might be a Zombie-issue. We can't be certain until the team comes and evaluates the test results."

Peggy gave them a smile, closing her binder. "I'll be back to check on him in an hour. If anything happens, big red button."

Neither of them said a word and Peggy left, walking down the hall. Addison turned and went back into her baby's room, Zed following behind her. Zander was in the crib in the middle of the room in nothing but his diaper, his Z-band off and somewhere in his bag of belongings, tubes and wires all over his little body.

Zed and Addison didn't sleep again.

Two hours after arriving at the hospital, Zander was transferred to a hospital room in the PICU—the pediatric intensive care unit. His parents stayed on two separate sides of the room, neither able to look at their son without tearing up.

It was well past eight in the morning when Dr. Sircey from the Containment team came to deliver the news. Zed was sitting by the window while Addison sat closer to her son. They couldn't talk to each other, the elephant in the room too great for them to even be near the other.

"Alexander is perfectly healthy," he said with a smile.

Zed folded his arms, not believing a word from the doctor's mouth. Addison wasn't in the mood to be subtle about her disbelief. "A perfectly healthy baby doesn't just stop breathing in the middle of the night," she snapped. "Does my baby look perfectly healthy, Doctor? Does he?"

"Well no, but there is a reason for it."

Addison raised an eyebrow at him, glaring.

Dr. Sircey smiled for a second, a somber, serious smile. "To put it simply, he's too human for his own good."

"Excuse me—"

He continued despite Addison's interruption. "I could explain all the findings and neither of you would quite understand it all. But, what's happening is that the human in him is fight a battle with his developing zombie-consciousness. It's quite spectacular, actually, nothing we've ever heard of but something we had speculated when you had your first child."

Zed and Addison both shot the doctor murderous glares, his excitement simmering down. He cleared his throat and backtracked. "The mental battle is not one that can be treated with medicine, and with its intensity, it's caused many physical issues we can try to maintain. But there's nothing we can do for Alexander."

Addison raised her eyebrows at how much emphasis he had put on the word. She glanced at her husband then back to the doctor. "What about us? Is there anything we can do?"

"I'm sure Mr. Necrodopolus is well aware of the ritual—"

"It's too risky," Zed interrupted.

Addison frowned at his words, turning to face him. "I'm sorry?"

"Addy—"

"Don't do that, Zed," she all but growled. "I had to do CPR on my two year old son and now he's in the hospital hooked up to a bunch of machines and you're still saying you won't do the one thing that might help him?"

"I would give my life for our kids, Addison," he said venomously. "But I refuse to give my life and scar Zander all at once. I won't do that to him."

"It doesn't seem like you want to do anything for him." She puffed, blowing her hair out of her face. Her words hurt like a punch to the gut, the pain evident on his face, yet she continued. "If the roles were reversed, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

He shook his head at her. "You wouldn't, but maybe you'd finally understand why I can't do this, not to Zander." He huffed, heading out of the room. "I'm going to get some coffee," he muttered as he left.

Zed and Addison didn't talk much for the rest of the day. Zander got a new Z-band and they unhooked him from the ECMO, a strict rotation of nurses checking on him every hour. But because there wasn't much the hospital staff could do for the toddler, Zander was going to be discharged the next day.

Two days before Christmas, and Addison and Zed were still not talking. Zander was ready to go home, until his vitals dropped—breathing, heart rate, brain activity, all of it.

"Zed," Eliza said seriously. "You guys need to talk this through. You need to do something."

"What's the point? It's not like she'll even listen to me."

"She's your wife! More importantly, she's Zander's mother. She'll listen."

Zed scoffed, because she hadn't been listening. Of course, he couldn't bear the sight of his son in the hospital, but what they were asking of him was (slightly) worse. There was only a 50/50 chance it would even be effective. And those were the statistics for zombies, not hybrids. Not to mention the fact that Zed could die trying. And if it were ineffective...

Eliza was right, in some sense. He did have to talk to Addison. Even if she was stubborn and would never understand.

After he returned from entertaining Zenia in the waiting room, he went straight to his wife, where she was huddled up in the corner of Zander's room, and sat on the floor in front of her.

"Addison, I don't want to risk it," he stated. "I don't want to make Zander even more terrified of zombies, of me, and kill myself trying. There's no scientific backing to it, it's all speculation. It could take anywhere from minutes to hours. Or it might not even work. You have to understand that."

She looked at him, arms folded. "You were willing to turn off your Z-band to win stupid football games, but you aren't willing to do this for your own son. That's what I don't understand."

"That was so much different," he argued. "I was fifteen and stupid."

"Well now you're twenty-eight and stupid."

"That's not fair."

"You know what else isn't fair? It's not fair that I have to sit here and constantly revive my son because my husband refuses to even try to help him! You're the only one who can help him with this and you just keep making up excuses!" she snapped.

"I'm thinking about the consequences."

"You're thinking about yourself."

He sighed. They weren't getting anywhere with the argument.

It was Christmas Eve. Zander was off the ECMO, and Addison was in the bathroom. Zander was standing in his crib. Zed was making faces at him, making him laugh and bounce around like the happy two year old he used to be. His blonde and green curls moved with his every laugh. If it weren't for the white walls and empty noise, the machines and wires everywhere, it would be just like at home.

Zed lifted his son out of the crib, letting him stand in his lap. Zander reached out and grabbed Zed's nose, laughing. Zed gave him a sad smile and whispered, "Gar garziga."

"Gar garziga," Zander repeated.

It was Christmas Eve. Addison and Zander were on the floor in a converted meeting room, the windows all closed and furniture all stacked to the side. Zed sat across the room, an officer chaining his wrist to the wall. Zed tugged once the cuff was secure in place, testing his movement. He'd be able to pull and move about ten feet, according to the officers.

Zed locked eyes with his wife. "Gar garziga," he whispered. He saw her mouth moving, but her words were drowned out from the click of his Z-band coming off.

Zed lunged and Zander cried, louder and harder than Addison had ever heard him cry. It was worse than when he'd wake up from his nightmares, worse than anytime he ever got hurt. He clung to her for dear life, sobbing and screaming, shaking his little body to the core.

Addison didn't even flinch.

She stared at her husband, watching his body jerk back when his restraint reached the end, several feet away from her and Zander. She embraced her son, her eyes trained on Zed. He wouldn't hurt her, he never did. She wasn't afraid of him.

His eyes shifted to the little zombie in her arms. "It's okay Zander," she said, her focus on Zed, on the heartbreak in his eyes. "It's just Daddy," she told her son. "He won't hurt you."

Zed pulled on his restraint, frustrated. Addison scooted closer an inch, continuing to reassure her son. She sat a little out of Zed's reach, averting her gaze from her husband to her son. It took a few minutes, but once Zander had calmed down enough, Addison sat him in her lap, facing Zed.

"It's Daddy," Addison whispered. "He won't hurt you."

She held out her hand toward Zed, her fingers grazing his cheek. Zander whined, cowering away. Zed leaned into her touch, his arm extending behind him. Addison glanced at her son, seeing him watching the interaction cautiously.

"It's okay baby," Addison whispered. "It's Daddy. Do you want to go to Daddy?"

Zander shook his head and Addison sighed. "Daddy won't hurt you," she assured him. "Daddy loves you."

She pulled her arm back and gently encouraged Zander. Tentatively, he stood and held out his hands toward Zed. He grabbed his nose and Zed mewled happily, an almost chuckle that made Zander beam.

It was Christmas Eve, and they were going to be okay.