Chapter III: Insomnia

Clive knocked on the door of room 312 once. No answer, so he knocked again. Still no answer, so he opened the unlocked door...to find an empty room. "Stiegler did say he would be in his classroom now, right?" Liv nodded.

Just then, an important-looking woman in a business suit walked past, then stopped to address the pair. "Is there a problem here?" she asked.

Clive showed his badge. "We're looking for Mr. Stoker. We were told he'd be in his classroom now; where else might he be?"

"Well, that's odd; he should be preparing for his class that starts in ten minutes. He wasn't in the teachers' lounge, I was just there...come with me, I'll get you his contact information."

As the investigators followed the woman, who introduced herself as the school's principal, Clive turned to Liv and whispered, "Does something about this feel off to you?"

"Everything feels off. But yeah, it almost feels like he's disappeared."

"Exactly."

Their suspicions were confirmed when, after obtaining Mr. Rich Stoker's phone number from the faculty roster, their calls were immediately transferred to voicemail. They requested his home address from the principal and headed out to meet him—if he was at home at all.

He wasn't. No answer at his door, and without a warrant or any probable cause, they couldn't break into his house to search for evidence. "Yep...dead end," Liv said. "Figures. Guess this'll just be a cold case, then."

"Liv, we're not giving up that easy. We know this Stoker guy is involved somehow, or at least it seems like he is. All we need is a lead on his location. We have his photo on the school website, so I can put out an APB and we'll find him. I'd say 'cheer up', but I'm starting to think that would be wasted on you."

"Meh," Liv replied. She wasn't convinced anything would come of their efforts. A single vision that didn't even tell them what Jacob was being extorted for, let alone give them any information about where Rich Stoker would be, was as good as nothing. And while Clive was a much better detective than she could ever be—it's why she was an ME instead of a cop, after all—their only suspect was on the run with no leads. Not to mention there may not even be any suspects if this was, in fact, a suicide. And if Clive was so worried about her and thought she was acting dangerously, then wouldn't that mean it probably was a suicide after all? The whole investigation seemed more and more like a waste of time to her. Part of her wanted to say all this out loud, but she really didn't feel like using the energy for it.

Liv returned home, dropped her keys on the couch, and headed straight to bed. She was exhausted; she didn't remember investigations being so draining. As she lay in bed, thoughts returned to her that she had cast aside to focus on helping Jacob. Thoughts of Fillmore-Graves and Vivian Stoll and the potential zombie utopia they were building. They didn't excite her, but they also didn't scare her. They just tired her out even more, made her want to sleep forever, but she couldn't sleep because she couldn't stop thinking about that utopia. Why hadn't she thought to look for more zombies before now? Why had she wasted time hiding when she could have been planning? Basically: why did Fillmore-Graves get to it before she did? And why was she so completely useless in the fight against humans who might want to exterminate zombies? They'd surely shoot her brains out on sight, but here she was, just trying to hide and play cops and robbers? What's been the point of all her decisions?

Eventually, she fell asleep, though it felt more like passing out after a full day of being in full-on zombie mode. Every muscle lacked the energy to move until her eyes dropped shut and her brain finally shut off for the night.

She was startled awake by a loud knock on her bedroom door. "Liv, are you okay?" It was Major's voice—he'd apparently used the spare key he kept for emergencies to get into her apartment, and was now turning the handle on her bedroom door.

"Major?" she asked groggily as he entered the room. "What the hell?"

"Liv, are you okay?" he asked, a look of serious concern on his face.

"Ugh, yeah, I'm fine, what are you doing here?" She rubbed her eyes, but didn't sit up.

"I've been trying to call you since like 9:30; Ravi has, too, and Clive. We almost got Peyton to try, but we figured something was wrong, so I came over to check on you. Did you...just wake up?"

"Well, yeah, hard to sleep when your ex is almost knocking down your bedroom door..." She plopped her head back onto her pillow and closed her eyes again.

"Liv, it's like 4:00. PM."

"Huh," she responded, eyes still closed, only mildly interested in any conversation right now. "Weird. Look, I'm just exhausted, so can you leave or something?"

"Liv, this is not healthy. Clive told me about the suicidal brains...we need to get you something to eat." He sat down on the side of her bed, and Liv scooched away slightly.

"I'm not hungry. I just want to sleep. I'm fine, really. No need to worry, thank you, just...let me sleep."

"I thought you were helping Clive with his case?"

"What case? The kid killed himself, that's all. His teacher was an asshole, just like everyone else, and he got tired of it and saved himself. There is no case."

"'Saved himself'?" Major raised one eyebrow. "Okay, look, I'm making you something to eat, and you're eating it. 'No' is not an option here. Besides, there's still a case: Clive got a hit on the APB and they found your guy in a motel a few miles out. He's waiting for you in the interrogation room right now, but he can't wait much longer."

Liv grumbled. "He can do it without me, just like he did before we met. He doesn't need me. Can I sleep now, please, Major?" She didn't understand why he wouldn't just leave her alone. His concern was bordering on neediness, and for no reason. She wasn't consumed by Jacob's brain, she was herself, thinking perfectly clearly. She wasn't needed, the case was basically over with, and all she needed...was sleep. For how long, she didn't know, but that didn't matter. Just sleep.

"...okay. Go to sleep, Liv." Major stood up, hesitated, then left the room.

"Huh," Liv said out loud to herself. "That was easier than I thought it would be." She closed her eyes again and tried to block out thoughts of Fillmore-Graves again, thoughts of Jacob Roscoe, and now thoughts of her failed relationship with Major. He was a zombie, she was a zombie, they should be back together; but they weren't. Because being a zombie was just an excuse; the real reason their relationship ended was because she wasn't worthy of him. He was the perfect man, even now that they were just friends. I mean, look at him, almost breaking down her door to make sure she was okay, even though she never asked him to, and he wasn't getting anything out of it. But Liv? She ran away. The first sign of trouble, and she was gone, ring and all. She watched him be tortured for months—or was it years? It felt like years—and still, she let it happen. He would never have done that to her. The way she failed him was just another tick mark on her list of screw-ups. And then there was Evan...

"So, I hope you're in the mood for brain omelets, because that's what I made," Major said as he strolled back into the room with a still-hot frying pan and a fork.

"Major, I said I'm not hungry, and also something about 'leave me alone and let me sleep'."

"Yeah, well, you've slept for 14 hours, so I think that's more than enough. And since you just described suicide as a savior, you're either eating these less depressed brains, or I'm force-feeding them to you. You know I can." He smirked.

"But I'm a zombie now," Liv mumbled.

"And so am I. Eat up."

"I don't get why you're doing this, Major. You make it sound like being realistic is a terrible thing, and wanting a little peace and quiet is—mmph!" She couldn't complete the sentence as a forkful of brains-and-eggs was shoved into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed forcefully. "Ugh, what the hell?! I didn't choke, so whatever you were trying to do didn't work!"

"I wasn't trying to choke you, Liv. Just give the new brains some time to kick in."

"Fine. Can you please just leave until then?"

"Nope. I'm staying right here with you until I know you're back in your right mind."

Liv narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, I feel much better. Totally not suicidal, perfectly happy—now will you leave, please? I'm begging a lot."

"You're not better, so no. Not yet."

"How would you even know?"

"Oh, trust me, I'll know."