Maggie looked up, looking somewhat surprised to see him. She'd lost track of time, looking through the magazines. It had been like looking back in time. The clothes were impractical and fun, the kind that she liked instead of the practical and occasionally armored fashions that were the order of the day. The articles didn't contain a single mention of the word "zombie." Even the dramatic stories seemed mind-bogglingly retro, throwbacks to a time when overcrowding was common, resource management was mostly taken for granted, and the dead didn't just pop up and start trying to eat you the second they went down the first time.
"Huh? Oh. That's not bad news exactly," she said. "But thank you." She still looked slightly shaken. No Kellis-Amberlee anywhere except in her blood? Weird. She wasn't a virologist, but she'd hung around with enough lately to know that that was improbable. At the very least, she could rest secure in knowing that she'd be otherwise healthy as long as she was here. Small comfort, she supposed.
But, on to other matters. "So, if that's taken care of for the moment," she said briskly, "there's the whole business of my recovery. I did my PT back home, so I can walk mostly pain-free, but it was a gut injury. And I was very close to converting at the time, from what I understand. Lots of blood transfusions. It was very unpleasant." She smiled tightly. "And I guess there's the question of compensation."