A Delicate Palate

Part 2: This Unliving Living

When I woke (how many hours later?), I found I'd been moved to a bedroom with white walls and white sheets. Camelia, who waited on a chair next to the bed, was dressed like she was going to her first communion. I scanned the room for my phone, but it was nowhere that I could see.

"What did you do to me? How long was I knocked out?" I rubbed my head in a bid to massage away the blinding pain. I was glad all of my head still seemed to be intact, given her zombieness and all.

"I've given you direction," Camelia drawled. "It only took two days, five hours, and twenty minutes to do it. Considering what I had to work with, I should be given a medal." 

My vision blurred as I took in her dazzling form. Angel.

"Are you here to make me realize what's really important to me before I die?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, like Monica on Touched by an Angel. If you're here to set me on the right path, I think you're doing it wrong." A sudden and invasive jab struck my head, like an internal lightning bolt.
"Daaaaaaammmnn!" I banged my fist against my head.

"The pain will subside. Sorry, I had to do it. You can't perform your job and not be one of us."

"One of..." My head felt like it was splitting open. "I never agreed to do a job. I don't even know what the job is. All I know is you're a zombie who doesn't think I'm worthy of being eaten, but does think I should be drugged and held against his will in a high-rise zombie den."

"Again, it's vampires who have dens, and... never mind. I'm not holding you against your will. There's the door. You're free to go."

I kicked off the covers and planted two unsteady feet onto her plush rug. "Wait, did you say... did you turn me?"

Her eyes darkened. "I'm not a fucking vampire! We don't turn people using magical vampire hoo-doo. But yes, you're a zombie now."

"What the hell, Camelia?" I collapsed back into the bed. Most people would think she was psychotic, and maybe she was, but I also knew she was being honest. I was a zombie. This wasn't a prank. Something about me had fundamentally changed and Camelia was the one who'd done it. "How?"

She held up a vial containing pale-green fluid. Her bloodshot eyes danced. "I used science!"

What Camelia meant by "science" was that she'd roofied me, and then while I was passed out, she'd used a viral toxin to stop my heart, mutate my cells, and then resurrect me as a zombie.

"I'm sure you're upset, but just think, three days ago, I was going to eat you. Today, I've recreated you in my image. A lesser image, granted. Still, you should be flattered."

"Flattered?" I searched the room, wondering where my t-shirt had wandered off to. And also wondered what it had been like when Camelia removed it from my prone body. Had she carried me onto her bed by herself?

She leaned in close, forcing me to breathe in her perfume.
"You smell good, Camelia, but you're insane! I'm not flattered, I'm pissed, and... and..."

She licked her lips. "Hungry?"

My stomach growled. "Maybe. But I don't want to eat brains."

"Yes, you do. It disgusts you, but you want to. Badly."

Damn her, it was true. I wanted to find the nearest human, press my thumbs into their skull until I broke through the bone and then scoop out their brains with a soup spoon. "Fine. You win. Where can I get some?"