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Major and Ravi went straight to the television studio. Johnny Frost was making himself up in his dressing room, getting ready for his next broadcast. When the production staff tried to stop them from approaching, Major firmly but gently put them aside.
Johnny Frost turned around and waved his people back. "It's all right. Let them through. Come to give me an exclusive on the coup at Fillmore Graves, Commander? Or is that even still your title."
"To be honest with you, I'm not sure it ever was. But actually, I came for something else. Have you ever considered … not being a zombie?"
"Well, yeah, but, hasn't everyone?"
"What if I told you there was a cure?"
Johnny Frost returned to his makeup. "I'd tell you to wake up from your dreamland."
"Not dreaming. I have a cure, right here. And it's all yours—as long as you take it while the cameras are rolling."
Meeting Major's eyes in the mirror, Johnny Frost frowned. "You need me to take a cure for zombieism on live TV?" He laughed.
Ravi held out the plastic-capped syringe. "This cure."
Frost stopped laughing, but was still newsman enough not to take the bait quite so easily. "Why me?"
Major would have thought that was obvious. "You may be Seattle's most well-known zombie."
"I'm not even Seattle's most well-known zombie in a six-foot radius."
"This one can't take it," Ravi said, his hoarse voice testament to the sheer exhaustion of his past twenty-four hours. "People mostly hate him. And they'll think he has a political agenda."
Frost swiveled around in his seat to look at them. "Look. Even if I take that cure, and it doesn't kill me horribly on camera, and-and it works," he added hastily, seeing from Ravi's expression that his skepticism was about to get him beaten up, "and it turns me human again, half my viewers still wouldn't believe it. You know how it is these days. Fake news," he finished, sing-songing the words.
"We'll do a blood-pressure test. Live," Ravi suggested.
"Fakeable."
"A ghost pepper!" Major had nearly been caught out by one of those the last time he was human. "You'll eat one pre-cure, down the hatch, no issues, then post-cure you'll eat one—"
Frost didn't even let him finish. "Fakeable." He looked over their shoulders. "Oh, finally! We're not camels."
Major glanced at the doorway but only saw someone carrying a big jug of water past. "We'll cut you open," he said. "You'll bleed like only humans bleed."
The look on Frost's face said that was a hard no.
"We're talking about the fate of mankind," Ravi urged him.
Then a voice from the doorway said, "Stand down, Johnny. Dear leader's stealing your time slot. He's got some big announcement. He's on his way in."
Enzo, here? That was bad news.
Ravi looked at Frost in distress.
"Oh, shoot," Frost said, the sarcasm practically dripping from his tone, "looks like we won't be cutting open old Johnny on live TV today, boys."
He swung his chair back around to look at himself in the mirror, fixing his tie. For what, since he was no longer going on the air, Major wasn't sure. Either way, they'd been dismissed, and they'd lost their chance to televise the cure.
Ravi leaned over, whispering, "What are we going to do now?"
"I have no idea."
They had the cure; they were ready to make it in large doses, to spread it far and wide, to turn human again all those who needed to be … and they couldn't so much as get a single person cured on the air. This was supposed to be the win, the moment they took their victory lap, the moment they all four got to dance off into the sunset together. And now Peyton was … gone, and Liv was out there somewhere, and soon enough Enzo and his goons were going to be arriving at the TV station, and …
And the only way to actually convince people that someone was a human was for them to die. Zombies didn't die. But humans did. And death was hard to fake. Real death. Even in a television studio. And since there was no one he could ask to die for this, the answer was simple: He had to do it. He had to take a cure on live TV and then be killed.
"Ravi. I know what to do."
"Do you?"
"Yes." He drew his friend out of Frost's dressing room and into another one, which was empty, and he explained that death was the only sure way to tell that someone was a human.
"No."
"Ravi, it's the only way."
"Major, no. I am not losing anyone else today. I—" Tears gathered in his eyes. "I can't."
"It's the only way. Either I die today or … half of Seattle, or more, dies tomorrow. Whatever Enzo's going to do, it's got a body count, Ravi. Or it pisses off the government and they send the bomb. Either way, Seattle loses. Or … I show them that the cure is real, the only way I know how."
"Major …"
He squeezed his friend's arm. "It'll be all right. You and Liv—you'll get by, together. I'm … going to go call her."
Leaving Ravi standing there, stunned, he found another empty room and dialed the familiar number. It went to voicemail, which he was glad of. If she'd answered, they'd be on a ticking clock before she came storming down here to stop this nonsense.
"Hey, Liv. It's me. I'm about to do something stupid,. But, if it works … big 'if' … it'll save lives. But basically, the way I make all my decisions these days is by asking myself, 'What would Liv Moore do?' Whatever happens, know this: It's always been you. I always loved you. And I always will. Take care of yourself. Bye." Reluctantly he cut off the message, his last connection to her.
Ravi came in behind him, shaking his head. "I'll say it again, Major. This is a terrible idea."
Major got to his feet. "You got a better one?"
"Well, none that you'd approve."
"Give it to me." He held out his hand and Ravi placed the syringe in it. They looked at each other. "You know you're my best friend, right?"
Ravi shook his head, his face twisting. "I can't do this. I just—" He wrapped Major quickly in a fierce hug, then hurried out of the room to collect himself.
