text: [Themes: Zombie, horror, survival]
  
  > Look around
  The room is softly lit by the lights from a huge heating furnace with plenty of pipes. The most salient feature of the room, however is a row of bodies, neatly laid from north to south. There is also a closet that is closed. There are muffled cries originating from the closet. You also see the fallen body of a grey-haired man in his late forties curled up on the floor.
  
  You can go north to the Basement.
  
  > search man
  Nothing but sheer crazy.
  
  There is nothing on the grey-haired man.
  
  > open Closet
  To your surprise, you find a young man in his twenties gagged and chained up to an especially sturdy pipe; he silently recoils at the sight of you, not even daring to whimper. Tears flow down his dirtied face and stick to his ear-length sandy blonde hair.
  
  > untie the man
  (the young man)
  Fumbling through the keys with your thick gloves, you find a small key that looks like a good candidate and walk forward to unlock his chains. He stares as you with eyes perplexed, even long after it is clear that your only intentions are to unlock him. He relaxes slightly and sits still as you jam the key into the padlock and hear the comforting click. He rips off his gag and throws the duct tape away, gasping in pain. He immediately slumps into a relieved mass and whispers out a "thank you."
  
  He then stares up at you with the sweetest, heart-warming smile. You blush and for the first time realize what a handsome man he is. You return the smile. Well, all that's left to do really is stay here and wait for the calvary.
  
  > ask the man about himself
  (the young man about that)
  There is no reply.
  
  You hear muffled stamping and shouts coming from upstairs in the hospital. You both look up excitedly, doubting that help is actually on the way. You can hear occasional bursts of gunfire, and soon you can even hear shouts. You are pretty sure safety is on the way.
  
  > ask the man about the old man
  (the young man about that)
  "I came into the hospital seeking refuge. He invited me to he safe zone, and was very friendly, even gave me some food. I still had my own, so I told him he could keep it. Then he, he I dunno he switched." You can see the horror in his eyes. "He started mumbling about order and shoved me through this hole, when I saw all the bodies I tried to run, but he just tackled me and slammed my head hard. I woke up chained, and heard him cursing at the barricade.".
  
  You hear shouts coming from the other side of the barricade, warning you to stay away from the entrance. The young man stands up and turns to you. "Listen, I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but it's sure as hell they won't know either. You're in danger, you're likely to be blamed. They won't..." he falters, tears brimming as he wipes them away. "They won't attack me" he tells you, less than confidently. "because I look like a victim."
  
  You glance at his wrists, and the tale they immediately tell. The rows of bodies sure do look bad. Your fellow companion walks towards the file cabinets and orders you to stay where you are. You try to object, but he hears none of it.
  
  > tell the man about the cancer
  (the young man about that)
  There is no reply.
  
  Suddenly, the top file cabinet is wrenched back and a S.W.A.T. member runs through the top pile of doors. After only glancing at the pile of bodies, he swings his rifle up at you. "What the hell is going on." he demands. Shock and adrenaline pump through you. Your eyes widen and your nostrils flare. You automatically switch to a combative stance and an image of pouncing him and disarming him of that rifle briefly flashes through your mind.
  
  Luckily, your companion has better kept his wits about him, and he immediately intervenes: stepping into the line of fire and telling how you saved him from a crazed survivor. He explains that the crazed survivor was the one who killed everyone trying to contain the infection. More S.W.A.T. members pour in and similarly aim their weapons at you. None are aiming at your companion. You're now effectively surrounded by your supposed rescuers.
  
  Uncertain, the S.W.A.T. member yells at you to drop your gun, and points his assault rifle at you with more vigor.
  
  > drop the gun
  You drop the handgun. The S.W.A.T. member visibly relaxes.
  
  After complying with their orders, the members of the S.W.A.T. remain uncertain. They radio for backup. One of the team members cautiously walks up to you. "Do you know... who... what you are?" Confused, all you can do is shake your head. One of the other members starts digging through a pack and procures a tactical mirror, handing it over. Hesitantly, you look at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is mottled and was decomposing at some point, but now has a weathered, preserved look. There is a rather large gash on your forehead that has been bandaged. Helplessly you stare at the reflection you want not to be your own, but that matches you at every turn. You drop the mirror and start to cry. No tears come; you are physically incapable.
  
  The young man whom you saved sees your distress, comes over and embraces you, not caring that his skin touches yours. The guns are all lowered and you hear a cacophony of clicks. Radiation kills the neuro-virus, and you realize the significance of you waking up in a radiation chamber. Noticing that you are lost in your thoughts, you glance around at a room of confused S.W.A.T members. Taking advantage of the uncertainty, you dramatically rise up, "I am an infected who has been to madness and back and I can save them all." A bit cheesier than you had intended, but it gets the job done.
  
  You guide the hesitant doctors and scientist through the hospital's notes. Thanks to you, the infection policy is changed after a week. While people's sanities are restored, their skin maintains the same pale, mottled and rotting look. The legal status of the new undead becomes annoyingly uncertain as intolerance finds its newest schism. You become a poster child for zombie tolerance, equality and reason, starting a new non-profit organization designed to fight legal discrimination.
  
  Your wound never heals and your hair never grows out, and to the chagrin of the vegetarian inside you, all you can eat is meat. The young man you rescued, Mark Cayman, remains a true friend and ally in the fight for zombie equality. A few days ago, he asked you to a restaurant with strong hints that it might be about more than politics, and you are excited. You feel elatedly triumphant about all you have accomplished.