This is set immediately after Neville opens the door to find a resurrected Virginia on the other side. It was written for a college assignment but it's pretty much fanfiction so I decided to post it here.

His hand reached out without instruction from his brain. He couldn't comprehend what was happening but his body was instinctually drawn to her. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water multiple times, but no words came out.

She looked just like the day she had stopped breathing, just a bit dirtier. Her nails were coated with a dark brown, very much unlike the manicure she usually sported before.

Before. Suddenly he was drawn back to the present. She had crossed the threshold and raised her arms up weakly to him.

"Rob…ert," she quietly said again. Her hands were inches from him. He took a step back before they made contact.

She abruptly stopped walking forward and gazed into his eyes. It was then that he noticed a different glimmer in her eyes, almost as if they were glazed over.

This is impossible. She can't be here. I just buried her today, he thought.

"Virginia." Her name was a whisper on his lips, but the sound made her move. Her soiled hands gripped onto his blue button up shirt. The coldness of her fingers radiated through the material between them.

He almost collapsed on the spot. Before, he could pretend it was a mirage, a cruel trick from his mind to erase the memory of her burial mere hours before. But her touch, he could never forget that.

"Rob…ert." She rested her head onto his shoulder and he tentatively wrapped his arms around him. She was back. She wasn't gone forever. It must've been a mistake, it must've—

A sharp pain radiated from his collarbone, causing him to jump back. Her lips were stained a faint red and she was almost making the suckling motions of a newborn. His eyes trailed down to his shoulder, where a red spot was forming around the torn edges of his shirt.

Before he could look up again, Virginia advanced on him, taking a nibble of his ear. His hand slapped up as a reflex and pushed her over onto the ground.

"No. No. No." His voice was hoarse as he shook his head. This couldn't be happening. He was still half drunk from the bottle of whiskey and wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him.

Her hand scrapped feebly at his shoes that he hadn't taken off before. From this view, she looked less like the woman he loved and more like the monsters he despised.

"You were supposed to be safe," he bemoaned. "I didn't want to burn you like the others, like our daughter. I couldn't… I can't…"

Her fingers got a good grip on his leg and her mouth was soon hovering over it. A quick kick of his foot sent her sprawling again. Each movement that hurt her tore a part of his heart out. She slowly scrambled to get up again.

"Rob…ert." Why can't she say any more words?

You know she's one of them, his mind prodded him. You have to kill her.

But she's already dead, he argued back.

Obviously not if she's in your house.

Our house, he corrected himself. Virginia was crawling towards him again, the dirt from her body flaking off onto the carpet.

Neville looked around for a weapon. A weapon! Against his own wife!

A bunch of sharpened pencils were near on a table and with no other options, he took them. Lead side up, he waited for her to make another move towards him.

With a bit more speed than before, she grabbed his weapon wielding hand and took a bite from his wrist. He gasped in pain before pushing her away. He rolled his sleeve up past his elbows to avoid staining it with more blood. She began hissing and trying to scoot away from him.

Confused, Neville looked down at his arm. The only thing other than the bite marks on his wrist was the cross tattoo he had gotten from a drunk night many years ago. He jutted his arm forward, flashing the cross in her face. If his theory was wrong, he could end up with a chunk of forearm missing.

The hissing grew louder as she tried to scramble away quicker than her weak muscles would allow. Her eyes darted at his hand again, reminding him of his weapon. Once he covered the cross again, she stopped cowering and began to move towards him again.

As soon as she was in reach, he jabbed the pencils into her arm like a careless doctor with a syringe. She shrieked and tried to get away, but his hand was clamped on her upper arm. He pulled back the pencils, finding that most of the lead was still imbedded in her skin. Her face twisted into a snarl and she tried to bite at his face. Without thinking, he jerked his hand up into her chest.

She almost immediately became inanimate. He let her drop because he wasn't expecting it. He watched her (finally truly) lifeless body slump onto the floor of the house that they bought right after their wedding years before. His eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the scene before him. He felt the pain in his shoulder and wrist but he didn't know what to do about it. How do you explain that your dead wife rose from the dead and decided to eat you?

You don't, he thought before heading upstairs and going to bed, completely exhausted from the previous events.

When he got up the next morning, he almost forgot about what had happened until the throb of his wrist awoke him. He stared at the bite marks for a minute, trying to think through his throbbing headache. He slowly crept downstairs, stopping as soon as he saw her body on the floor, right where he left it.

"Oh, Virginia," he said.

He gingerly picked up her body and wrapped it in yet another blanket. He sewed it up twice as thick as he had done last time. He placed her in the backseat of the car and drove to a cemetery far out. He walked with her in his arms for a while, just waiting to feel her move again. After a few hours, he gave up the hope that she would resurrect again, though he was also hoping that she wouldn't.

He found a mausoleum that was open but still sturdy enough to be closed. He put Virginia in the corner so he could pry the lid off. It took time, strength, and some tools that he brought along, but eventually it opened. The remains of another person were inside but he just placed her right on top of it. Resealing the tomb was harder since it required welding, which he was not particularly familiar with but he managed to do an okay job. He waited near the mausoleum for almost an hour, not ready to say his last goodbye to his wife.

When he got back to his house, he realized he had to be careful. If the disease made people want to eat healthy ones, he would need to amp up the security around his house.