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talk you just gave me about not wallowing and being out in the sunshine?” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you bought me a—”
     
    “ Shhh,” he cut me off and pointed to the TV.
     
    On the screen was a reporter standing in front of VGH, Vancouver General Hospital. “It appears that the miracle drug, Nevermore, wasn’t such a miracle after all. Early reports are that the toxins thought to be strained out of the main component of the drug—cystius scoparius, better known as scotch broom—were not eliminated.” The reporter choked up, her eyes misting over and I wondered if she had taken the drug or knew someone close to her who had. “The toxins attack the part of the brain that makes us human, whole sections of the cerebral cortex are eaten away until there is nothing left but a base animal instinct.” Someone stumbled out of the hospital and the reporter turned and ran towards the man who clutched at his stomach. “Sir, can you tell us why you’re here today?”
     
    “ I’m so hungry, I can’t stop eating. Nothing fills me up,” he said. His eyes were glazed and his skin had a strong golden yellow hue to it, as if he were jaundiced.
     
    “ Sir, did you take the drug Nevermore?” she asked, sticking the microphone close to the man.
     
    He stared at the microphone for a moment, opened his mouth to answer, and chomped his teeth around the fuzzy piece, growling and snarling. The sounds sent chills all over my body. The reporter backed away, the cameraman keeping tabs on the man attempting to devour the microphone. Then he looked up, right into the camera. His pupils twitched as the camera focused in on them, sliding from a perfect, human round, to a horizontal rectangle, reminiscent of a goat’s eye.
     
    I gasped and grabbed for Sebastian’s hand. He gave it to me and I clung to him. That could have been me if I’d taken the shot—would have been me if not for the main ingredient. I pressed my nose into Nero’s fur and breathed in his scent as Sebastian’s hand went clammy in mine.
     
    The man stood and opened his mouth. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to speak or if he was roaring at the camera. By the cameraman’s reaction, he was roaring. The scene jigged and jogged as the cameraman and the reporter fled, but in her heels and tight business skirt, the reporter wasn’t fast enough. The camera turned in time to see her get tackled from behind, her body slamming into the ground under the weight of the Nevermore man.
     
    He reared up and slammed his mouth into her back, ripping a chunk of flesh as if she were a loaf of bread. Her screams were audible from whatever mic was left on the camera, then the camera was dropped and the screen scrambled, and then went black.
     
    “ That wasn’t for real,” I said, though I knew already in my gut that it was. It was like watching a hurricane rip apart a house. You didn’t think it was possible, didn’t think they would air it, but in your heart you knew it wasn’t staged.
     
    Sebastian didn’t say anything, he just flipped the channel. They were all breaking news and bulletins. The Nevermore drug had been taken by what officials were estimating was close to ninety percent of the North American population over the last two months—street versions and FDA approved versions—both of which were having the same effect.
     
    We watched in stunned silence for over an hour, the reports coming hard and fast at first, but then slowing as people were cautioned to stay within their homes and avoid all contact with the outside world while the outbreak was taken care of.
     
    “ I never thought I’d see the day a zombie apocalypse would happen,” I said as Sebastian turned the TV off.
     
    “ They aren’t zombies,” he snapped at me as he rubbed his left arm. “They can’t bite you and turn you into one of them. The doctors on TV said that already.”
     
    “ I didn’t say that they could bite you, I just said that they