Nurses: the other white meat

[vile]

Late last night, in the wee hours of the morning, Nicholas found his surroundings to have changed dramatically. From a filthy silk tomb, a tattered bag that'd only been intended to hold a meal through one feast, not dozens, filled with the thick black ichor that was made of his own waste and being a liquefied meal many times over; to a sterile white room in the Academy's medical center. The walls, bed, floor, everything is a pristine white. It still stinks, but trading in the fetid poison for bleach is preferable.

Or it would be if anything registered in the pallid zombie's brain. No glimmer of personality has shone through the wild instinct, but it was a particularly traumatizing experience, to be liquefied and devoured so many times over. Animalistic noises: grunts, growls and hisses, can be heard within the room as the monster within paces, seeking out food to sate his appetite. It stays that way overnight, pacing like a caged beast, until a visitor arrives early in the morning.

A sharp gasp is taken in from the unsuspecting nurse. Of course she'd been made aware that the room's occupant is a on the feral side, a bit less than approachable. But what she wasn't notified what the person that had once worked alongside her has been reduced to. Stark white, emaciated, a snarl twisted on his inhumanly thin face. There's no gleam of Nicholas in those blank eyes, no hint of the mouthy bastard that had once resided there. Something out of a horror movie has replaced him. The fact he's clad in a hospital gown only makes the scene more surreal. That and the inky black haze boiling around his feet like a cheesy fog effect.

"H-hello, Nicholas?" she asks, voice unsteady, startled by his appearance, more notably the vapid look in his eyes. A hand reaches out to show she means no harm, and also as a defensive measure. "I'm h-here to bring you some breakfast and check in on you. H-how are you feeling?" she asks, suspecting the words don't register in his brain: he hasn't even glanced at the plain tray she'd brought along, topped with some mediocre hospital food.

A shambling step is taken towards her. The black smoke grows thicker. She takes a step away but is halted when one of his hands lash out, grabbing at some exposed skin on her arm. The tray falls, clattering on the ground, the plastic bowl and silverware bouncing a couple feet away. The nurse goes limp in his grasp, eyes rolling to the back of her head. She falls with a thud and the pale zombie claims his meal, just not the one she had intended him to take.

[vile]

With the nurse stuck in the hospital, stuck having to decide whether to save her arm through a terribly painful handwave provided by the resident Nurse Trauma or face amputation. It's a decision no one should have to make, especially when they were only trying to help another person. But contrary to what circulates through the rumor mill, the poor woman is not dead, instead simply bed bound.

But at least she's more comfortable than the monster that got him! But it's not very likely that Nick comprehends the situation he's in. Trussed up to a hard, uncomfortable bed, secure enough to make sure he won't be making a surprise appearance to any big-breasted college co-eds anytime soon. The room he resides in is as stark white as he is, recently scrubbed down with bleach and other chemicals in preparation to its newest resident. It's a secure room, one intended to hold the more dangerous but injured residents. While Nicholas is free of physical wounds, his body is too emaciated to be healthy, even for an immortal. Cameras are focused on him, watching the scene to make sure another nurse doesn't wind up lunch.

Mike, a nurse unfortunate enough to be stuck with the job of feeding the zombie, heads into the room with a tray of raw meat and a pair of tongs like what one would use while feeding a dangerous snake. While he thought he'd be up for the task, a series of quakes run through his hands, rattling the tongs against the plastic tray.

This is his first time seeing a zombie up close though, at the moment, the white monster looks more like a bleached mummy. Mike arms the tongs, picks up a lump of flesh and extends it towards the zombie's mouth. For just a moment he wonders if they should switch to a liquid diet, one fed through an IV so a secure mask could be fashioned to the thing's face and hold those jaws shut, runs through his head. It intensifies when Nick snaps his teeth shut on the meat and gulps it down without pausing to chew. The piece is large enough to be seen as it travels down his throat like a snake taking down a mouse.

The sight makes a shiver run through the nurse's spine. A look of disgust pulls his lips back into a snarl. It doesn't take terribly long to complete the feeding and he soon retreats, eager to get the fuck out of the room. With there being no windows, air ducts, a securely locked door, it's not likely he'll have to see the undead beast any other time besides feeding time. And...bedpan time. But some other poor bastard has that job today.



As others scheme about sending a psychic to the zombie's room to piece together his brain into something vaugely human, the unfortunate person that has already been given that task, lingers around outside his room. A glance up to one of the guards stationed out there, someone who pays more attention than the last guy did. And she nibbles on her lower lip, uncertain and not wanting to face the monster again. "I..." she stumbles for words and promptly shuts up when the guard's grey eyes meet hers. "N-nevermind. I-I'm his t-therapist." poor April mumbles. The door is opened and she heads in.

The girl, not much more colorful than the beast, pales considerably and creeps towards the tied down monster, hands wringing with discomfort. Therapist or not, she doesn't like the dead look in his eyes, the complete lack of an expression on his face. At least this time around there's no desperate hunger to be found in his body language, no clawing and gnashing teeth.

With slow steps, she approaches the bed and stares at him, her ice blue eyes focused on his white ones. "I-I'm here to talk to you. To help you remember who you were." she stammers the words, voice soft enough to be barely audible. With no response from him, she stops at his bed side, sure to stay far from the possible reach of his arms, not wanting to wind up like Julia with chunks missing.

Hours would pass with no apparent good being done. When the day is finished, she heads out of the room, good cheer nowhere in sight. Her head shakes when the guard asks how it went. And without saying another word she heads away, retreating to her office to try and figure out what other approaches she could take. Like using her powers, though she'd rather not, not when she can't get his approval for it. And so she searches through his file to see if there's any contact information, someone that could give her permission to use her abilities on him...

[vile]

Even from inside the secure room, Nicholas could hear the chaos happening beyond the confines of his room. It distracts him from the TV left hanging on a wall. White eyes roll to the side and his head tilts towards the noise as if he could see what was going on out there. Of course, he isn't capable of doing things even remotely like that. And so he's left vacantly staring at the wall, jaws working hard, grinding his teeth together.

There's not much else for a ravenous zombie to do. Once the noise ceases, he glances at the ticking thing on the wall. It's round and white, has some black symbols on it with moving sticks. That's all the thing is to him. And it continuously goes tick, tock all goddamn day long. At first, it was interesting but it soon got on his already inflamed nerves. And now he mimics it, occasionally clicking along with the contraption. But, for now, the television captures his attention again.

The TV, of course, is of little use to him with its strange noises and myriad colors. Images of people move around on the screen, replaced by fires and noise similar to what he'd heard outside. A news report! Somewhere in the zombie's mind, the two shapes click and he understands on some level the connection between the two. The device is a window! One with a curious delay but it's still more interesting than blank walls.

A tug is given to his wrists and he eyes the ticking thing again. Over the course of days, he's learned that when the arms are in certain places, the door opens and a guy with food walks in. But he has been mysteriously absent today. A demanding rumble can be heard, emanating from his empty stomach. It irritates him. The grinding resumes but with extra vigor as if the ground off enamel would sate his appetite.

Eyes back to the TV and he resumes watching the colors and shapes on the screen, brain not making sense of a single damn one of them. Briefly he wonders if that woman with glowing eyes would return. The noises she makes are comforting, nice enough to make still his jaws.

But little does he know, she's one of the staff that's too busy dealing with the recent crisis. It outweighs the zombie, who will continue to exist perfectly fine on his own and the daily meals of meat cubes.