His dead eyes search me hungrily as I approach.  The festering wound on his head looks purplish in the lights.  I snake my way through the room- around chairs and bodies, an obstacle course of stuff- knowing the whole time that my path is leading me right to him.  And he knows it.  If he was still alive, he’d probably be salivating right now.

I see more of them enter through a door over to my right.  A group of three: pale and lifeless skin, limbs hanging limply, their hair patchy from it falling out in clumps.  The group lock eyes on a friend of mine and advance but I can’t worry about that now.  My only concern is him and his hunger.  I shift my glance back to him and it’s apparent his gaze never left me.  I steady my nerves as I approach, deftly maneuvering the congested space between us. 

Five feet away.  Four.  Three. Two.

One.

Breathe.

“Here’s your mozzarella sticks, Howard.”

He absentmindedly touches his once-fatal head wound, “You’re a godsend Maggie!  I’m starving!”

A smile is stretched across my face yet his words send a chill up my spine.  It’s been a year since the dead began to rise. We still don’t know why they came back, but here they are.  Their personalities are just as they were in life, however their bodies are decayed.  Autopsy incisions have split open, faces are partially decomposed, and they have eyes that are gray with cataracts but somehow can still convey emotions. 

I make my way over to the hostess stand and the group of three undead that had entered our restaurant to be seated.  I tell her I’ve got table 12 open and she grabs their menus and leads them to my section.

It’s an especially busy night tonight but tomorrow will be a different story.  Tomorrow is the new moon.  And everything changes with the new moon.

Read Part 2