And just like that, the question gets way more complicated than just how he's not a zombie anymore. Drake's smile fades.
"Magic, basically. The thing was, being infected made me stronger in a lot of ways. So I'd stayed a zombie to better protect the city, but there were some really close calls. Earlier tonight when we were talking about going hungry when we were cut off from that one alien? Most people could stockpile while he was at full power and usually we could hunt or fish, people had gardens... worst case they'd lose some weight. But me?"
It's rare that Drake's visibly tense, but this is one of those times. He doesn't talk about this much, and since he's comfortable enough to do so there's no point in hiding how he feels about it. The memories are traumatic.
"You manage the symptoms by feeding. That's the only thing that keeps you yourself. It sucks, but you do it because a zombie from my world who doesn't eat essentially turns into a zombie from your world. A mindless, rotting monster. I came close once, the second time I definitely would've turned if there hadn't been somebody willing to put me on ice. Defrosting hurt like hell, but nobody I loved had to put me down." He hesitates, jaw working, before deciding to just get through the rest of the explanation quickly. "Anyway, when the war was really coming to a head, I decided I was gonna be selfish for once. I didn't want to die as a zombie again, or worse... win or lose the war, if we lost Hope for good somebody would have to put me down. So I finally made a deal. What you're looking at now isn't the same body I was born in."
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"Magic, basically. The thing was, being infected made me stronger in a lot of ways. So I'd stayed a zombie to better protect the city, but there were some really close calls. Earlier tonight when we were talking about going hungry when we were cut off from that one alien? Most people could stockpile while he was at full power and usually we could hunt or fish, people had gardens... worst case they'd lose some weight. But me?"
It's rare that Drake's visibly tense, but this is one of those times. He doesn't talk about this much, and since he's comfortable enough to do so there's no point in hiding how he feels about it. The memories are traumatic.
"You manage the symptoms by feeding. That's the only thing that keeps you yourself. It sucks, but you do it because a zombie from my world who doesn't eat essentially turns into a zombie from your world. A mindless, rotting monster. I came close once, the second time I definitely would've turned if there hadn't been somebody willing to put me on ice. Defrosting hurt like hell, but nobody I loved had to put me down." He hesitates, jaw working, before deciding to just get through the rest of the explanation quickly. "Anyway, when the war was really coming to a head, I decided I was gonna be selfish for once. I didn't want to die as a zombie again, or worse... win or lose the war, if we lost Hope for good somebody would have to put me down. So I finally made a deal. What you're looking at now isn't the same body I was born in."