The Zombie Is Actually Me? Call Me Dr. Zombie King

“You should go. I'm sorry I can't walk with you any farther.” After escorting her to the safety zone's perimeter, I wanted to touch her face one last time, just like I used to. But she instinctively flinched away, freezing my outstretched hand in midair. My heart clenched, but I could only pretend to be casual as I turned to leave.

“Will we ever see each other again?”

She finally mustered the courage to ask.

“No.”

I said it without hesitation.

Hearing that, she was overwhelmed by mixed feelings, but seemed relieved as well. I waved and ignored the dozens of guns pointed at me, turning back toward the infected zone.

That's right. In this story, we don't fight zombies,

because

I'm a zombie,

a

sentient zombie.