The zombie head snapped at the meat I dangled in the water while the crowd on the other side of the glass gasped. I smiled as I let the head catch the treat, its gleaming teeth clenching tight before it released. Creepy little fucker, even if it was mindless. The only activity in the zombie’s brain was a bite reflex, and they couldn’t derive nutrition from the food; I provided it in the tank medium I maintained. But I enjoyed the look of shock on the first-time visitors’ faces and testing the head’s mobility helped verify the water parameters were correct. I nudged the floating head away from the others before it locked onto an ear. Normally, they wouldn’t attack one another, but testing them could cause nips and it was my job to keep the museum specimens in perfect condition.

“Penelope?”

The radio hissed, and I groaned. Using it while in a clean suit was the worst. I tossed the pork and disposable tongs into the trash for the incinerator and fumbled to hit the call button through the fabric. One head tried to latch onto the thermostat and pull itself to freedom. I nudged it back and closed the lid before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Director wants to see you in her office.” I placed the voice now, Amanda, the director’s assistant. My heartbeat picked up. Was it finally happening?

“Of course. I’m in the Red Zone, so I’ll need a bit to decontaminate. Tell her in ten minutes?”

“Will do.”

I did an awkward happy jig before hurrying to the series of exit doors, entering my code before stepping into the first section of decontamination. A fine mist of anti-fungal spray covered me entirely, and I hurriedly put my arms out and fell into the motions that my mentor, Joel, had taught me. My mind wandered as I went through the sanitizing process. When she offered me the promotion, I’d be professional and thank her, but how should I ask for a wage increase too? I doubted my usual brash attitude would work in this situation. Joel told me how much he made and it was insane, but then again, he’d helped open the Institute. I’d been handling all the specimen conservator responsibilities by myself since he’d retired two months ago and had proven myself to be just as capable. No one else had the same level of experience, and I’d worked hard over the last few months to show how committed I am to the museum. Though waiting for the higher ups to approach me like Joel suggested was chafing me. But once I had the Head Specimen Conservator position, I could hire an assistant and work with the Curator to find a new specimen for the fiftieth anniversary next year. I’d heard rumors of some hidden in Russia, but Joel hadn’t wanted to investigate.

As the last airlock opened, I flipped off the camera and stepped behind the privacy screen, and stripped the hazmat suit off, stuffing it into the trash before taking off my disposable shorts and tank and tossing them in as well. I hopped in the shower, closing my eyes and holding my breath as the bleach-scented mist covered me before the hot water activated. Scrubbing my body quickly, the soap sluiced away the swimming pool scent as I used a purple shampoo to correct the bleached highlights in my black hair. I liked the scattered silver streaks, even if I had to deep-condition all the time to keep my hair from drying out. Joel hadn’t bothered with toning his and had bits of yellow and orange curls all over, resembling the madman everyone assumed him to be. I missed the old coot. Work was long and lonely by myself without his constant stream of aphorisms that made zero sense, but Joel deserved his retirement. He’d trained me as his protégé so he could spend his twilight years with his family, and I knew his wife and daughters were ecstatic to have him home every day. I smiled to myself. Maybe I’d go by their house tonight to celebrate my promotion. I could bring a dessert and drop in on their dinner like they always told me to. I’d have to deal with their matchmaking attempts, but it was better than going home to an empty apartment. God, I wished my sister was home.

I dressed quickly, wishing I had time to do a little makeup to spruce up my pale skin and brown eyes, but decided speed was more important. At least my black skirt and blouse were clean and wrinkle-free, seeing as I spent most of my day in a hazmat suit. I punched my code into the door’s keypad and made my way through the crowd to the elevator. Patrons mobbed the Heroes of the Apocalypse mural opposite the doors as people pointed out the faces they recognized from the tour and their kill counts. Dr. Michael Knight’s face stood out prominently since his medicine had saved the world. I stopped myself from smiling at everyone as we got on the elevator, even though my excitement for my promotion made me want to grin. Not only would my coworkers think it was weird to see me grinning to myself, the Institute of the Infected Undead was a somber experience, one to remind us of the Collapse forty-nine years ago. Especially the third sub-level with all the human specimens. Some of them had living relatives, one’s that Joel had cajoled into releasing their loved one’s bodies to the museum in the beginning. I stood at the back of the elevator as the doors opened on the second level, switching out some guests before continuing to sub-level one.

I hurried through the lobby, dodging the massive skeleton sculpture that dominated the atrium as I cut behind the three-foot thick spine to skirt my way around to the employee area. Using my key card to enter, I smoothed my damp hair as best as I could as I hurried past the Security offices to the Directors. Amanda sat at her desk outside the office, and I beamed at her as I came to a stop.

“Hey, sorry about the wait.”

She barely looked up from her computer. “Go in. They’re waiting for you.”

They?

I made a face behind her back as I passed. Most of the people here didn’t like me, but she was blatant about it. I schooled my features so I wouldn’t look too eager, and walked in.

Director Anne Friedmann sat behind an ebony desk, her dark curls thick despite her age, and her signature red glasses perched on the end of her nose as she spoke to the man seated in front of her. He stood when I entered, and his presence seemed to fill the space. He was tall, easily six and a half feet, dwarfing my five foot four, and had a wholesome look; blond hair just outgrowing a military cut, a short strawberry beard, and freckles across his straight nose. With his height and broad shoulders, he looked like the consummate All-American Football star, all grown up and gorgeous. Not that I was interested. Even if I was open to dating again, I liked guys with a hard edge and usually more piercings than sense. Not blond dudes who were cousins to the Kennedys. Pass. I’d dealt with my share of disappointing men and had resigned myself to being single for the rest of my life. If I wasn’t allergic to cats, I’d have become the crazy cat lady in my apartment complex. Or at least gave the other one, our neighbor Doris, a run for her money.

“There she is.” I noticed the Director didn’t stand, even if she was speaking warmly, which was a pleasant change. She and Joel hadn’t gotten along, and her dislike of him had extended to me by default.

“Hey, Director Friedmann. You needed me?”

“Yes. Ms. Baylor, I’d like to introduce you to Ethan Aldine, our new Head of Security.” She waved an unneeded hand toward the only other person in the room. He stood watching me, expectant, as if we’d met before. I was sure we hadn’t. He was the type of man you didn’t forget.

“Oh, ok. Nice to meet you.” I stood there awkwardly as he nodded. He filled out his security uniform nicely, making the dark gray slacks and white dress shirt and black tie combo look chic. I remembered my damp hair and the bangs that I’d swept to the side and began fiddling with a button on my blouse.

The director motioned for us to sit and it surprised me when he pushed my chair in as I sat before sitting himself. 

“Mr. Aldine has familiarized himself with our systems and shadowed different department heads to get a feel for how things work around here. I’d like you to show him the ins and outs of handling the specimens, safety protocols, cleanup, and all that.” She waved a dismissive hand.

My heart sank. “What?”

The director pushed her frames up the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Aldine will work with you today. Just let him shadow you, so he can make sure you follow all our safety precautions.”

“I understand what you’re asking. But why? The less exposure the better is the Institute’s policy. And Security records all the Red Zones.” I arched my eyebrow. She knew what I was referring to. “He could easily watch the video and check my logs. Joel made it clear he thought my work was exemplary.” I fought to keep my tone mild, even as my temper flared to life. 

“I checked the entries.” Ethan’s deep voice was calm and reasonable, with just a hint of a Texan twang. Oh yeah, Friday Night Lights all the way. “And watched some of your work, but I’d appreciate you teaching me, so I have a better understanding of our safety precautions. It’s my job to prevent the inevitable.”

“And what’s the inevitable?” My tone edged on caustic.

“A breach. Or another lab leak. Containment lasting for forever is a fallacy.”

I huffed. “That’s a bleak outlook.”

“It’s realistic.” His dark blue eyes bored into mine, and I was almost uncomfortable with the intensity. “Every single day here we gamble with thousands of lives. Millions if there is an outbreak. It’s my job to mitigate the risk, and specimen conservation is the most dangerous. Even more so than the lab.”

“My department is the most important!” I raised my voice, but couldn’t stop myself. How dare he come here and start criticizing me right out the gate? “You think our visitors show up here to read the newspaper articles? Or watch the best zombie kill recordings? They can find that on the internet. Or given time, they could claim that they’re fake. The world doesn’t lack Apocalypse deniers. My exhibits are proof. I carefully maintain living testaments of the Collapse. Those thousands of people you worry about come here and learn the truth, and they believe it because of my work.” I was parroting a speech Joel had given me often, but I believed every word. 

“Ms. Baylor, that is enough. I know you’re used to scurrying through the walls and answering to no one, but Mr. Aldine raises good points, and I expect you to treat him with civility.”

“Of course, I will.” Reminding myself to stay focused on my promotion, I took a steadying breath. “I apologize, Mr. Aldine. I’m very passionate about my work.”

“Excellent.” The director clapped, and I wanted to smack her hands. She kept waving them about, like a conductor without a chorus. “Now, I’m sorry to rush you out, but I have a call I need to prepare for.”

“Actually, ma’am, could I talk to you for a minute? In private.” I asked hurriedly. 

Ethan stood, unintentionally intimidating, and snagged his suit jacket off the back of the chair. “I’ll wait outside.”

It irritated the Director that he’d assumed she’d speak to me after dismissing us, but she hid it well. For all that she disliked me, I admired her. Her father had started the Institute, and when he passed unexpectedly, she’d stepped in and made sure his life’s work persevered. She’d been an assistant with little experience, but her tenacity had been enough to convince the higher-ups to give her a chance and the museum had flourished under her direction. I wanted to do the same.

“Can we talk about my department? Since Joel’s position is still open, I’d like to interview for it.”

“I see.”

Shit, that didn’t sound good. I hurried to continue. “Director Friedman, I am fully committed to the Institute. I always arrive on the first ferry and leave on the last. Most assistants quit after a few months and I’ve been here for five years, so I have more experience than anyone else in the world, Joel excluded.” All my other plans had flown from my head and I finished mildly. “I have some ideas I want to run past you for next year’s anniversary as well.”

The Director’s stare weighed me as she considered. “You’re right. You are the most experienced in dealing with the specimens, but I have seen little in the way of your management and leadership skills. Being a department head is more than just maintaining exhibits.”

“Of course, I’ve been handling the operational demands as well. I could show you —.” 

The director waved a hand, cutting me off. “Fine. Let’s do your interview on Monday morning, say ten o’clock? Please prepare an overview of your department’s current operations and costs, what you’d change, and any ideas you have for the future.”

Yes! “Thank you, I will. Thank you.”

“Good. That will be all, Ms. Baylor.”

I hurried out the door, my mind swirling with ideas of what to present. I’d forgotten about my tagalong until he spoke beside me. “Ms. Baylor.”

“Oh. Hey.” I kept walking as he fell in step with me, his footsteps quiet compared to mine, even on the polished marble floors. We passed the skeleton, and he gave it a once over. The skull was close to the ceiling, almost thirty feet above my head, with a huge ribcage and spine leading into the floor. One skeletal arm seemed to push against the tile, the other reaching toward the entrance above the information desk as if crawling from the grave and attempting to grab the guests. Sunlight streamed from the skylights overhead, cleverly illuminating the skull’s menacing grin. It was the first thing you saw as you walked down the long, descending ramp into the museum and I’d always loved it.

He continued beside me silently, and I glanced at him. His eyes methodically scanned the crowd, lingering on a group of men with backpacks exiting the visitor’s bathroom and storage area before continuing. He broke his silence as we approached the elevator, his dark blue gaze locking on me again. 

“Do you mind if we take the stairs?”

“Sure.” Unlike my sister, I enjoyed exercising. Ivy swore jogging would cause her death and loved to poke fun at me for buying a treadmill. We veered to the side, walking past the Celebrities Turned Infected exhibit by the stairwell. “Are you squeamish?”

His sandy eyebrows drew together in confusion, and I ignored the flutter in my stomach as he regarded me. “No. Why?”

“Because you’re about to feed a zombie.”