The Universe's Mixer

( Take the bitch down, boys. )

They found her with a wake of bodies and a blood trail stretching out behind her. Her sheet and her metal tray with the broken wheel still attached, now coated in viscera. She hadn't left anybody alive to be turned like other zombies had. Most of her victims had been completely devoured, or had vital parts of them removed so the ability to become the living dead was ripped away from them.

She hadn't been hard to subdue, really. She wasn't a fighter, and with their suits, she couldn't smell them. They were of no interest to her, meal wise.

It could be said that the situation was ideal, as she'd never left the hospital, and had professionals dealing with her instead of the new wave of so-called bounty hunters that were out in the world, bringing in the zombies for treatment.

Once she was in the room, and the door was locked, they left her.

Jennifer stood in the room, not doing anything. Feeling sort of lonely without the sheet and the tray. The tell-tale squeaka missing from her life.