Back in Matheson, Jonah and Kat were in the mess hall of the DZI headquarters waiting for their mission. Normally they'd be doing stupid stuff like Knuckle Chompers to pass time, but ever since Rupert came back with a fist that looked like it was brushed against a cheese grater, no one was in the mood to play. And it didn't help that he was being lifted to the infirmary on a stretcher when they last saw him.

"The hell happened to him?" Jonah asked. "Did he go crazy with the wood chipper again?"

"Nah, mate," Kat replied. "He was out cold when they found him. They said he was trying to kill Aaron since he blames him for what happened to his hand."

"That wanker. If he tries killing my best mate again, I'll take his own bullet and shove--"

"Franklin. Mathis," Shaw interrupted, appearing behind them. "You two have been reassigned to prison duty."

"What?!" Jonah exclaimed. "Why?!"

"We have more than enough soldiers for the trip back into our new base in Longridge. And you two already completed your missions out in the Dead Zone for today, so why not take it easy?"

"Who cares about how many missions we did today?" Kat said. "If you keep putting limits on how much help we can provide Matheson with, that'll just make the reclamation of the Dead Zone take longer."

"I like your determination, Mathis. But Colonel Schaefer ordered that you two work prison duty for the rest of the day."

"Bollocks!" Jonah retaliated. "That's all this is!"

"Franklin, calm down," Shaw replied.

"I specifically remember reading that the duty of a Dead Zone Infantryman is to secure the tower, protect its inhabitants, and exterminate the Deadmen."

Shaw raised an eyebrow. "Well did you also recall that working in Matheson's prison counts as securing the tower and protecting its inhabitants just as much as killing Deadmen?"

Jonah prepared to respond before realizing there was a part of the DZI handbook that mentioned how prison duty was a possible requirement for the Infantrymen if they had nothing else to do. Kat knew it already; she just didn't want to do it. She face-palmed herself at Jonah's forgetfulness.

"Oh fuck me," Jonah groaned.

"I hope that means you've realized your mistake," Shaw said. "Now both of you, get out of here."

Kat and Jonah rose from their seats and sullenly made their way out of the mess hall. Jonah gave Shaw one more angry look before exiting the room, adding one more bitter comment.

"It's already bad enough I made myself look like a goddamn idiot, you took away one of the only things my best friend had to live for!" he shouted angrily.

"Shut your trap!" Shaw replied. "If you're lucky, you can find him in the prison with the other traitors."

"You motherf—"

Kat clamped Jonah's mouth shut with her hand. "Just give it a rest. Shaw could get rid of you, too, y'know. And not just in terms of your job."

Jonah swiped her hand off. "I know," he groaned in defeat.

The two exited the headquarters out into the Commons. Jonah kept the door open for Kat as she passed through and let the door close behind them. The two continued their journey down the path to the elevator.

"Kat, be honest," Jonah continued. "How would you feel if we found Aaron in the prison level?"

"I don't care if we see him behind bars," Kat replied. "The one thing I wouldn't want to see is a Deadman Aaron nor would I want to see you infected."

"True that. But what would you do if he--either of us--were infected?"

Kat sighed. "Well this got morbid. What's next? Are you gonna ask me to pull your life support?"

"No. I'd ask you if you would."

The two paused their grim discussion as they approached the elevator. Kat pressed the button with the arrow pointing up and the elevator descended to their floor. The doors opened up and Kat and Jonah stepped in.

As the elevator made its descent, Jonah continued their dark discussion.

"So would you?"

"Would I what?" Kat asked.

"Would you put me or Aaron out of our misery?"

Kat stayed silent for a few seconds. "To be honest, I don't think I could do it."

"What if we asked you to hand us a gun? Would you?"

Once again, Kat stayed silent. A tear slowly escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek.

"Kat?"

The doors opened up, revealing a long, dirty hallway lined with flickering lights. The first thing they saw were the words MATHESON PRISON (NO INFECTED ALLOWED) etched on the wall in white paint. To their right they could hear what sounded like meat being chopped up in the first prison cell.

"What the hell?" Kat said, slowly stepping out of the elevator. She quickly wiped away the tear and followed behind Jonah.

"Ironic fate for a traitor," a voice said from inside the cell, followed by another messy chopping sound. "He didn't want to get eaten, yet here he is now."

Jonah backed up against the wall and slowly peeked around the corner. For a young man who had to get used to seeing gore, he did not expect to see the crime scene in front of him.

Three men wearing surgical masks bloodstained aprons were cutting apart a corpse with nothing but cleavers. A naked, pale body laid across a table covered in blood, a dark red hole indicating where its left arm used to be. On the floor was the arm, mangled tendons and nerves sticking out of the end like torn wiring.

One of the masked butchers spotted Jonah. He slammed a cleaver three more times on the corpse's left arm until it crashed to the floor in a puddle of blood. Small red speckles sprayed on his goggles with that last stab.

"What the fuck, man!" Jonah exclaimed in disgust.

"Hello, Franklin," the main said, revealed to be Colonel Schaefer. He turned to the man next to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Use the machete on the legs. It's easier to cut through the femur with it."

He opened up the gate to the cell and stepped out, closing it behind him. He pulled down the mask and his goggles, revealing his hazel eyes.

"Assigned to prison duty, huh?" he said, placing his mask in his pocket. "Hope it's not disappointing, but you two won't be killing as much in here as you do in the Dead Zone."

"What the hell are you doing to that body?" Kat asked, continuing to watch the two other masked men do their job. One of the men pulled a machete off the wall and returned to the corpse. He stared at Kat, his eyes hidden behind the reflective screen of his goggles.

"Ignore them," Schaefer replied. "It's just Richmond and Vega preparing a recently executed prisoner as a meal for the Deadmen."

"Doesn't that seem too far?"

"He didn't suffer. We shot him before butchering his body."

"But what are you gonna tell his family?"

Schaefer paused. "Oh yeah. About that. We're having a cattle shortage. So don't get too suspicious of the meat they're serving down in the Commons."

Kat and Jonah stared at Schaefer in horror and disgust. They knew he often went too far when he executed both humans and Deadmen and they also knew he was a bit of a sociopath, but cannibalism was still a taboo, despite the man-eating terrors waiting at their doorsteps. In fact, the Deadmen's existence only made the subject twice as controversial.

Schaefer then let out an out-of-place chuckle. "I'm just taking the piss. They're alive and kicking. And while they have been notified of this man's execution, they will never know what happened to his body."

"What are you gonna tell them?" Kat asked.

"As far as they know, he was cremated like most people."

"Most?" Jonah repeated.

"Yeah. Most." Schaefer's grin from when he chuckled disappeared into a cold look. Almost an aggressive one. "Now head on down to Cell 13."

Jonah's eyes widened with fear. "Cell 13? You mean--"

"Yes, lad. Lavinia Dyer's cell. But we like to call it the Splatterhouse."

"Well shit."

Schaefer stared down at Kat's handguns, both of them holstered on opposite sides of her. "You remember what each one does?"

"Yes, sir," Kat replied. "The one in my right holster fires rubber bullets as a warning and the other is loaded with real bullets just in case."

"Good. Then you know what to do. Now if you excuse me, I'll be back in this cell preparing dinner for the Deadmen."

Schaefer reopened the gate back into the cell and stepped into it before adding one little reminder. "And also, believe it or not, we actually need Miss Dyer alive. She's surprisingly beneficial to our research and is an outstanding interrogator when it comes to dealing with traitors. So don't harm her too much."

"Got it," Kat replied.

"Feel free to do what you want to the rest of the prisoners." Schaefer closed the gate and turned away from the two. He started putting on his apron and goggles again, which signaled Jonah and Kat to make their way down the hall.

As they marched down the hall, many of the prisoners in the cells beside them began mocking them.

"Fresh meat!" one prisoner yelled.

"I call the skinny lass!" another yelled, staring lustfully at Kat. "It's been a while since I last saw my wife. I'll just pretend this young beauty is her once I get my hands on her!"

Kat placed her hand down on the handgun holstered in her right pocket. She was extremely tempted to use the loaded one.

"Watch your mouth, you sick bastard," Jonah growled at the prisoner.

"Someone's pissed," another prisoner chimed in. "What happened? Your dog got eaten by a Deadman?"

"Better yet, did one attack your little girlfriend there?" the previous crook said. "If those brain-dead bastards don't eat her out..." He licked his lips as he continued staring at Kat with a crazed look in his eyes. "I certainly will."

Jonah snapped. He grabbed the first handgun he saw, yanked it out of the holster, and fired at the ceiling three times, the sounds of gunfire echoing through the hall.

"LISTEN UP!" he exclaimed angrily. "If it wasn't obvious, I'm really fucking pissed off! One of my closest friends lost his job and almost his life yesterday and here you are harassing another one! So keep going, arseholes! That was just a warning shot!"

While the prisoners remained silent for a couple of seconds, some of them—particularly the ones who were directly messing with Jonah and Kat—started laughing. One of them was the one who implied doing horrible things to Kat if he got the chance.

"Bollocks," he said irreverently. "Whole load of bollocks. Just rubber bullets. Nothing but—"

Another gunshot filled the air. The prisoner crashed against the prison wall, a deep red hole digging through the center of his head. A dark crimson splash of blood splattered on the wall behind the prisoner, and his lifeless body collapsed to the floor. The rest of the inmates inhabiting the floor went silent for good this time, having finally learnt their lesson.

Jonah looked to his left to see Kat holding a gun, smoke rising out of the barrel.

"There's your warning shot," she said grimly as she holstered her gun.

Some of the prisoners fearfully backed deeper into their cells. Jonah took advantage of the moment and aimed his loaded gun at two of them, causing them to crouch to their grounds in fetal positions.

"I swear I'll blow your fucking brains out," he growled. "But then again, death by gunshot is kind of a luxury nowadays. So...would you poor sons of bitches like to make a request on where I should shoot you?"

The prisoners stayed in their fear-stricken positions. One of them even started crying and whimpering.

"No?" Jonah continued sadistically. "Then let me decide for you. I'm wondering if I should aim for the ribs or the kneecaps. Actually, one of you shit-bags did imply a few rather disgusting ways of treating this young lady here. So now that I think about it, nothing says punishment like a bullet to the ball sack." He placed his gun between two of the bars of the cell gate. "What do you say, fellas?"

Another gunshot rang out. Jonah didn't pull the trigger, as tempting as it was, and Kat holstered her gun a few seconds ago. Both of them stared down the hall. They realized it came from Cell 13.

"Come on!" Kat said, running down the corridor. Each step echoed through the floor.

Jonah holstered his gun and threatened the prisoners one last time. "I'll be back, wankers. And next time, I'm using the loaded gun." He then sped away from the cell to rejoin Kat.

Jonah bolted past every other prisoner, all of who stayed hidden in the depths of their cells. He was glad they were finally taking him seriously, but he couldn't help but notice they seemed to be more scared of Kat than him. Normally he would've been jealous, but he couldn't blame them in the least bit.

He stopped in front of Cell 13, next to a horrified Kat. He was about to ask why the bravest person he ever met was as petrified as a statue until he saw the shit that went down in the Splatterhouse.

A rotted corpse was placed on a bed against the wall. There was a bullet hole in the middle of its skull, and blood was splattered all over the pillow it lay on. A woman with long, messy black hair stood in the middle of the room. A green armband labeled with the letters DZI was wrapped around her left arm, deeming her exempt from execution. She was facing the window, apparently zipping up her tattered jeans. A pistol laid on the ground next to her, surrounded by three more rounds of ammo.

"Please tell me that bitch didn't do what I think she did," Jonah said, assuming the worst.

"Yep," Kat replied. "Her pants were down a few seconds ago."

The woman turned toward Kat and Jonah, offering them a clear view of her face. She looked almost like she was infected. Her skin was pale and she had dark bags under her eyes, like if she hadn't slept or been in sunlight for weeks. It was hard to tell how old she was. Her skin was devoid of wrinkles, but her hair and face were dirty, like if she hadn't showered in over a month.

"Hello there, kiddies," she said in a slight Scottish accent. Her voice already made her sound unhinged. It went up and down like the baa of a sheep.

"Lavinia Dyer," Kat said. "Are you aware of the taboo you have broken?"

"From the way things are going, taboo should be a thing of the past. The real taboo should be the discussion of life when it was once normal."

"I'm talking about the fact that you shagged a Deadman. Creep."

Lavinia scoffed. "Well let me put that kerfuffle to rest. I didn't 'shag' a Deadman. I only tried to."

"Why the bloody hell would you want to do that?" Jonah asked.

"Despite my corrupt views of a corrupt world, I'd like to put my intelligence to good use. Troy Schaefer asked me to assist him with his research of the Deadmen. I was testing to see if they could still be aroused."

"You wanted to arouse that thing, and you thought your ugly arse would make him hard?" Jonah snarked.

"Rude, but true. I killed it once I concluded that it didn't work. But my research has been helpful for the study of the undead here at Matheson."

"Bullshit," Kat groaned.

"Wrong again. I'm the one who discovered that infected civilians can't feel pain during the turning process. Tortured a lot of people to come to that conclusion."

Jonah stared at her furiously. "Bitch."

"There's even a few things that aren't in those Zombie Apocalypse Guides that I've discovered. Did you know that the last fatal injury an infected person receives before reviving never heals?"

Both Jonah and Kat raised their eyebrows, both in interest and concern.

"Those injuries can be considered final blows since they were the reason the victim died. In fact, look here," Lavinia continued. She pointed at the corpse on the bed.

It was revealed that the corpse had a long, deep slash across its throat. Dry blood darkened the skin on its neck.

"I slit an infected man's throat," Lavinia replied. "Several seconds later, he leaped back to life."

"No way," Kat said in disbelief. Her eyes were fixated on the deep laceration in the corpse's throat.

"So remember, kiddies. If you shoot an infected man in the heart or stab him in his throat, that won't stop them. But now you'll have a permanent reminder of why this poor soul isn't in a better place."