The zombie kept trying to get at the meat, the meat that it'd gotten a taste for. The meat in question didn't slide off the zombie quite yet; instead he tried to hold the zombie down. He had to know how long it took, if it took. He had to see what might happen.
Simon's head dipped forward; it was more painful than anything. He hadn't expected the pain, but then he hadn't expected to be bitten either. There was always a risk for saving lives, yet he didn't think he'd have to die for it.
The zombie finally stopped trying to eat the still warm meat. Actually it stopped doing anything. Simon check its pulse, then slid off the zombie too, sitting there in the middle of the hall.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Fuck!" Simon hit the dead thing's chest with each expletive. "This is supposed to work!"
Yeah, the good doctor was having a small break down. Just a small one.
"This is supposed to save her..save them all!" A few more poundings on the once zombie's chest. If he had thought about it, Simon would have tried his best to calm down, but he wasn't thinking. It was too late. He'd been bitten - Simon was rather sure that was how the disease spread. If he'd been calm, it might have slowed the process, the changing from regular cells to zombified ones.