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?"

"We're in downtown LA. They're literally everywhere. But I hope you were listening when I told you we don't eat brains. Not ever. That's zombie rule number one."

"Why the hell not?" I was beginning to suspect brains were the most amazing food ever.

Camelia handed over my shirt, folded and pressed, looking cleaner than I'd ever gotten it. "I had one of my maids wash it for you. It reeked of weed. Your phone is charging in the kitchen." From there, she lectured me on zombieness while I dressed and again attempted to
achieve a standing position.

"There are two kinds of zombies. The kind that retain rational thought and can go about their lives, blend in with human society, hold down professions, and live, in a manner of speaking. Then there's the mindless sort, unable to reason or have any other thought other than how to get their next fix. Brain-eaters are even more disgusting than beef jerky-eaters. They reflect poorly upon zombie society."

"So, you're saying..."

"Human brains are monster makers. One taste and Van Man is replaced by something you don't want to know. Then, you might as well be dead instead of undead. I've seen it happen." She stared past me as if I wasn't in the room, as if there wasn't even a room, or a building, or a city, or anything except whatever it was she was thinking about. A moment later, her eyes snapped back into focus. "There's no coming back from it. It's what you do when you can't handle this—this unliving living—anymore."

"None of that makes sense."

"You eat brains and you disappear. What makes you you is gone. No more hemp bracelets and hippie-mobiles. Just insatiable desire. Do you want that?"

Desire. I studied the way the satin bodice of her dress clung to her skin. Swallowed. "I mean... no? I guess?"

"God, you are the worst." She headed for the door. "Too bad I need you. As soon as you can stand up for more than two seconds without tipping over, meet me in the kitchen. You've got work to do."

~ * ~

Since I was a zombie now, I suppose I shouldn't have been too shocked that my new job involved murder.

"Stupid, likeable, trusting Darrin—you will bate our food with your enhanced trait."

"My enhanced what now?" I was too overwhelmed by what she was telling me to be offended by her latest jab at my intelligence.

"As I said before, I'm good at managing underlings. I excelled at this prior to becoming a zombie, but now? I could be a CEO at an international conglomerate. Obviously, I don't need to do that; I'm rich to begin with."

I sort of followed what she was saying, and clarified: "And I was trustworthy before, and now, I'm basically a golden retriever tasked to babysit a child."

She looked impressed by my analogy. "Yes, but instead of making sure the child doesn't fall into a well, you're going to bring it to me so we can eat it."

"We eat kids?"

"Only when there's no alternative. The rule is to stick to upper teens and older—though not too old. If you'd ever accidently cooked up a colon with a tumor in it, you'd know why. Young children create too much commotion when they disappear, so it's best to avoid them, tasty though they may be."

My stomach gurgled, in good and bad ways. "This is unsettling."

"It is, yet you're mildly disturbed rather than outraged. You aren't calling the cops. You're standing there contemplating where to do your Shaggy impression so you can have a proper meal.

I sulked, but she was right. "I'm not sure I like you anymore."

"Also, you'll need to ditch your van."

~ * ~

Camelia ended up being right about a lot of things. Creeps abducted people in vans. Not a cool van like mine, but that fact didn't matter. Willow was too conspicuous. I couldn't completely part with it, though, so I parked it in Camelia's spot under her building. As the doorman had predicted, I moved up in the world. Deluxe apartment in the sky.

Not going to lie—Camelia's spare bed was way more comfortable than the thin futon I slept on in Willow.

She was right about my enhanced trait too. After three days of zombiehood, I picked up a girl working at Vegan Vitals. Ten minutes of chit-chat later, she agreed to go to Camelia's to "learn how she could become part of a global movement to increase awareness of plant-based diets."

She gabbed all the way to Camelia's building. Dirty blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, fingernails bitten to stubs, warm and friendly—I couldn't help but think of her as Camelia's opposite.

"Only two more semesters and then I'll be a holistic vet technician."

I flashed her a smile and she swooned against the back of the elevator. Damned if it didn't feel like I was a vampire about to get my glamour on. Only, it wasn't her blood I was interested in. I could pull back the skin on her head if I wanted to. I was strong enough to crack her skull.

"You're so nice!" she giggled.

Was I this thick the first time I'd met Camelia? "I haven't even said anything since we got in the elevator."

"You just have that sort of face."

I led her into Camelia's apartment, where she welcomed the girl to our global healthy and sustainable living initiative while mixing a drink. Camelia caught my arm as I began to back out of the room. "Stay until she's passed out."

"What was that?" the girl called from the couch.

Sighing, I took a seat beside her. "You're just the person we've been looking for."

Camelia shared a smile with me, then nodded to the girl. "How long have you been a vegan?"