Torkel is sitting on the airplane on his way back home to Sweden after a fantastic vacation in Peru. He wonders why he has never traveled alone before. Being able to decide entirely for yourself what you want to visit and do during the day.

Torkel scratches an insect bite he got during the trip. It has started to become a little inflamed, so he needs to clean it as soon as he gets home. He is sitting and thinking about the trip to Machu Picchu when he begins to feel strange.

First, it feels as if a wave of heat passes through his body, followed by a wave of cold. His throat starts to feel as though someone is dragging barbed wire through it every time he breathes, and it burns when he swallows. His mouth becomes completely dry.

Torkel calls for a flight attendant. He needs something to drink.

“What can I help you with?” the blonde flight attendant asks with a friendly smile.

“Can I...” Torkel coughs dryly several times until his face turns red. “Can I have some orange juice, please?”

“Are you feeling alright, sir?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“The juice will be here shortly. Would you like anything else?”

“No thank you, that’s all.”

“I’ll be right back!”

A few minutes later she returns and places the juice and a cup on Torkel’s tray table.

“Here you go!”

She smiles, but this time there is a hint of concern in her eyes as well.

“Thank you!”

Torkel tries to smile back, but his skin feels tight, making the corners of his mouth sting and burn. It is not only his face that hurts. Every slight movement feels as though someone is driving needles or nails into his joints, and as though someone is cutting him with razor blades wherever his skin feels tight.

Torkel notices a metallic taste in his mouth, and after running a finger along his gums, he sees blood on his fingertip.

His eyes begin to water, so he takes a napkin and wipes them. The napkin comes away red with blood.

Torkel now feels blood running down his throat, and nausea arrives immediately. His stomach cramps violently, feeling as though someone has delivered a hard punch to his gut.

Torkel collapses into a fetal position in the aisle. Through pain that feels like hands twisting his intestines as though wringing out a wet cloth, he vomits a mixture of food and blood onto the floor.

He hears someone screaming beside him, but he does not have the strength to look up. He feels exhausted and weak. Reality swirls around him, and then everything goes black.

Torkel slowly begins to wake up again.

His head feels as though he has just gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. His body feels sore, swollen, and strangely numb.

Torkel opens his eyes.

“Ah! But he’s alive.”

Torkel turns his head toward the voice. A young doctor is staring at him in shock. His name tag reads:

Jonas Svensson – Medical Assistant

“Wwhh... Whaaare aaam I?”

“What?”

Torkel clears his throat and tries again.

“Whee am aah?”

“You’re in the morgue, and we were just about to begin your autopsy.”

“Buuh am noo deaah!”

“No, I can see that. Can you sit up?”

Torkel looks at the medical assistant. He appears frightened and shocked.

Torkel tries to sit up, but his muscles refuse to respond. On the second attempt he manages to rise partway before falling backward again. His head slams into the stainless steel table.

He is surprised that it does not hurt.

To be honest, he barely felt anything at all.

On the third attempt he manages to sit upright and awkwardly swings his legs over the edge. His body does not seem willing to obey his commands.

Several more people enter the room. They stand staring at him with surprise and curiosity.

One doctor steps forward and examines him.

“Hm. Very interesting. You were dead and have been lying in a refrigerated drawer for a week. It is impossible that you could be alive, and yet here we are. Jonas, could you fetch a wheelchair so we can take Torkel back to the hospital?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll get one right away.”

Torkel tries to speak, but only garbled sounds and wheezing come from his mouth.

He has great difficulty organizing his thoughts. His head feels stuffed with porridge. Like an extreme hangover mixed with a concussion.

He hears people talking around him and notices them examining him. But he feels nothing.

His hearing is muffled, as though he has just left a rock concert where he stood beside the speakers, and he sees everything through a foggy red filter.

But he feels nothing except touch.

“Torkel, this is going to sting a little. We need to take a blood sample immediately.”

Torkel looks at the nurse and then around the room.

He is sitting in a wheelchair inside an examination room.

He does not understand how he got there.

A moment ago he was on the autopsy table.

He has no memory whatsoever of what happened in between.

The nurse inserts the needle, but he feels nothing.

Torkel has never liked needles, but now he does not care.

The nurse tries several times and begins to look frustrated.

“Strange. I know I’m in the vein, but almost no blood is coming out. Just thick, partially coagulated blood that won’t flow into the container.”

“That’s odd. Let me see.”

A doctor steps forward and looks fascinated.

“Check his pulse and blood pressure.”

The nurse does as instructed.

She struggles to find a pulse but eventually locates one near his thumb.

She frowns as she counts the beats while watching the clock.

When she finishes, she shakes her head and wraps the blood pressure cuff around his arm.

She measures it several times, and her frown only deepens.

“What did you get?”

“Uh... It’s very strange. I checked several times and got the same result every time. It’s impossible.”

“Well, what does it say?” the doctor asks impatiently.

Torkel looks at him and suddenly feels hungry.

He feels an overwhelming urge to bite the doctor in the throat and tear away a large chunk of flesh.

What am I thinking? Torkel interrupts himself.

“It shows that he has a pulse of around ten beats per minute and a blood pressure of fifty-five over thirty. It’s impossible.”

“Then do it again. You must have made a mistake.”

“Oh, shut up! I did it correctly, and that’s the result.”

The room falls silent.

The doctor and nurse stare at one another and then at Torkel.

The others shift uncomfortably and look at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I know you did it correctly. This whole situation is just so bizarre. Let’s step outside and discuss it while Torkel gets some rest.”

The doctor leaves with the nurses and orderlies.

To Torkel, they look like a family of ducks swimming away.

He wants to laugh, but only a guttural hiss escapes his mouth.

The last orderly glances nervously back at him before closing the door.

Torkel looks around the room as the ringing in his ears begins to increase.

A deep pulsing sound grows louder and louder while the red haze before his eyes intensifies.

Soon everything becomes so dark red that it is almost black.

Then everything turns black and silent.

Torkel wakes to a high-pitched scream.

It sounds like a woman in complete panic.

He realizes that he is chewing on something.

They must have brought him food.

He opens his eyes.

He is lying on top of a woman who is desperately struggling to free herself.

It looks as though someone has taken a huge bite out of her forearm.

Suddenly it hits him.

That is what he is chewing.

Torkel releases her, and she manages to shove him away.

He lies on his back watching her run off screaming and crying.

Torkel finishes chewing and swallows.

He feels both disgusted by what he has done and satisfied at the same time.

Torkel does not know how it happened, but he suddenly realizes he is walking along the canal path toward the city.

How did he get here?

Thinking is becoming difficult.

His thoughts keep getting interrupted and stuck, and he struggles to understand what is happening.

Torkel looks at his left hand.

His little finger and ring finger point in completely the wrong direction.

How did that happen?

He vaguely remembers biting a woman earlier.

Could she have broken his fingers?

That seems likely.

Torkel is hungry.

His vision begins pulsing red again, and the dull pulsing sound returns to his ears.

“This is the police! Stand still!”

Torkel tries to turn toward the voice, but his body refuses to obey at first.

Eventually, he has no idea how long it takes, he turns around.

A police officer.

Two police officers.

Torkel is hungry.

The closest one will make a good meal.

He starts walking toward the nearest officer.

“Stop!”

Torkel keeps walking.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot!”

Both officers draw their pistols.

Torkel keeps walking.

Soon he can take his first bite.

A loud bang rings out, and gravel sprays up beside him.

Torkel does not care.

Almost there.

Food.

“Last warning! Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Torkel keeps walking.

Almost there.

Several loud shots crack through the air.

Torkel feels his body jerk multiple times.

He loses his balance and falls sideways into the canal.

Torkel wakes up.

He is tangled in a tree trunk that has fallen into the water.

After a long struggle against branches and the current, he manages to crawl onto the riverbank.

He is far from the city.

What happened?

He looks down at his chest.

Several holes pierce his chest and stomach.

Bullet wounds.

Everything goes black.

Torkel wakes up again.

He is walking along the hiking trail back toward the city.

He has walked several kilometers but remembers none of it.

Fragments of memory flash through his mind.

Airplane.

Morgue.

Hospital.

Eating a woman.

Shot by the police.

Zombie.

He is becoming a zombie.

The realization hits him.

How is that possible?

Ahead of him, a deep ravine cuts across the trail.

Don’t want to be a zombie.

Must go over the edge.

Almost there.

Soon I’ll fall.

Torkel hears sounds behind him.

People talking.

Several hikers walking along the trail.

Dull pulsing in his ears.

Red pulsing vision.

Hungry.

NO. Over the edge.

Hungry. Food.

No. Over the edge.

Food! Hungry!

No!

One step from the edge, Torkel stops.

One final step and it will all be over.

He turns toward the sound of people.

A young couple.

Food!

No!

Torkel starts walking toward the couple.

Everything goes black.