I spend my time in isolation trying to decide whether or not to tell the others about the threat we face. It should be a straightforward call - they have a right to know. But I'm worried about how they'll react. They kill reviveds because they see them as monsters. If I told them that we need to eat brains to survive, and that we're being denied the gruel because of my refusal to play ball with Dr. Cerveris and Josh, they might rip me to pieces. Literally.
I've seen them do it to others. Killing gives them a buzz, and it's bull when they say that they only do it because they have to. There's a good chance they'll slaughter me if I tell them the truth, in the hope that Dr. Cerveris will restore their rations if I'm removed from the equation. A lot of normal people would sacrifice me in a situation like this, so I can't expect too much compassion from a pack of semiliving beasts.
Then again, maybe they deserve the benefit of the doubt. It's wrong to let them perish in ignorance. And if they kill me, what of it? I'll be brain-dead in a couple of days anyway. Why drag the rest of them down with me?
"Because they're bastards," I mutter, and brood about it some more.
Everyone's sour as stale yogurt the next day. The lack of nutrients is kicking in big-time. The zom heads are wincing at noises, groaning as hunger pangs shoot through them. They can't understand why they're being denied the gray gloop or why they feel as rough as they do.
"We must have done something wrong," Tiberius insists as they knock the issue back and forth.
"Nah," Gokhan says. "It's a test, innit? They want to see what we do when we get hungry."
"I'll rip Reilly's head off," Peder growls. "That'll show them what I do."
"It isn't Reilly's fault," Danny says. "He's not enjoying this. It's bloody Josh who's behind it."
"No it's not," Cathy shouts, then makes a face and lowers her voice. "It's Dr. Cerveris. Josh doesn't have any say in how they test us. It's the scientists who decide those things. I'll ask Josh what's going on the next time I see him."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll tell you," Tiberius simpers. "You mean so much to him."
Cathy flips him the finger, then glares at Rage. He's the calmest of everyone, watching an old episode of some American sitcom set in a bar, chuckling softly at the punch lines.
"I don't know why you're so happy," Cathy snarls. "You're part of this too. You'll starve with the rest of us, no matter how many arses you kiss."
"Chill, baby," Rage sniffs. "The Turk's right. They're testing us. Once they've compiled enough data, they'll feed us again. They need us. We're their blue-eyed darlings."
"Maybe they're feeding you on the sly," Danny challenges him. "Maybe that's why you don't seem bothered."
"Believe what you want," Rage shrugs.
"You never say a bad word against them, do you?" Peder spits. "You're a right muppet."
"I relish the easy life," Rage counters. "If we scratch their backs they'll scratch ours. You don't win any prizes for rubbing against the grain. I do what they tell me, treat them with respect and reap the rewards."
"Do you call being starved a reward?" Mark asks.
"Shut it, Worm," Rage snaps, then carries on talking to Peder as if he were the one who had asked the question. "They've got to treat me the same as everybody else when they're running a test, stands to reason. But in the normal run of things, by keeping them sweet, I get anything I ask for, films, games, magazines, even girls if I wanted."
Danny laughs out loud, ignoring the others as they moan and slam their hands over their ears. "Girls?" he shrieks. "What the hell would you want with those? We're all dead down below. We can't do anything with girls except look."
"That's why I said if I wanted," Rage replies smoothly.
Mark is frowning and staring at his groin. This is news to me. I hadn't realized the boys were impotent, though now that I consider it, it makes sense - no blood flow to stir their sleeping soldiers. If the situation weren't so dire, I'd have a good old chuckle about it. But they've more important things to worry about than dodgy machinery in their boxer shorts. And on impulse, having listened to them waffle on about this all day without saying a word, I suddenly decide to solve the mystery for them.
"It's because of me. They're starving you because I won't torture the reviveds. And they're not gonna stop until..."
I draw to a halt. Everyone is staring at me, even Rage, who doesn't look so cocky anymore.
"Go on," Tiberius says stiffly.
"The gray junk they've been feeding us is human brains."
"We know," Tiberius says.
"You know?" I exclaim.
He shrugs. "It's obvious. We figured that out months ago. Zombies eat brains, everyone knows that."
"You never told me," I huff.
"We didn't know that we needed to," Tiberius sneers. "How thick are you?"
"Enough of that," Rage snaps, getting to his feet. He looks uneasy. "Finish what you were going to say."
"We need the brains to stay conscious," I mutter. "Without regular feeds we'll lose our senses and become reviveds again. And if we do, we can't recover, we'll be stuck like that forever."