For a second, Kaveh thought he'd died and gone to gastronomic heaven, but he hadn't gone anywhere. It was only the brains he'd eaten that were heavenly.

He dropped the empty head in a nearby trash can and went back to his cart. He was wandering the hallways of the Ute Hotel, his rigid legs staggering across the thin blue carpet. The cart he'd taken from housekeeping kept him steady and held his growing collection.

"Oh, Jesus, get back!" came a scream from down the hall, followed by a long moan. A dozen zombies filed into the hallway from the rooms where they'd been feeding. The hotel was a honeycomb of human activity. Every time Kaveh thought it was clear, another room would open up, and the scene would repeat.

By the time he followed the increasing moans to the shattered door of room 237, the other zombies were already inside. He left his cart and climbed through. He watched his fellow zombies tearing at the body of a hotel guest, eating whatever they could get their hands on, but they avoided the head. Zombies treated it like garnish, pushing it around their collective plate until it was the only thing left. Kaveh moved in and scooped it up. The others were stupid, not selfish, and they had their portions already. Kaveh left the room and added this new head to the collection on his cart.

Knowing the best meals came from the freshest ingredients, he pushed the cart down the hall, looking for the nearest ice machine, and he called out to the others.

With concentration, he could modulate the moan that came from his throat into a word. The word was "brains." He called it out at the top of his voice, trying to interest the others in the experience he had discovered, but none of them cared. He hawked his wares, stretching the word like the moans that attracted him to a fresh kill, but he was the only brain loving zombie he could find.

A handful of zombies wandered out of a suite, blocking Kaveh's route down the hallway. He recognized Mister Ballard among them, a familiar face in a crowd of rotted features. The zombified bank manager ignored him just like the others, but Kaveh had seen this man eat brains before. He grabbed the manager by the shoulder and pulled him over to the cart.

With a cleaver, he opened a fresh skull and held it under the manager's nose. No reaction. He tore out a handful of the soft juicy brain and offered it up, but the manager started to wander away. It wasn't working. If he had herbs and spices, Kaveh thought, his prowess as a chef might increase the appeal. Would a dash of cumin be enough to change someone's mind? It didn't matter. None of the hotel rooms came with kitchens.

Frustrated, Kaveh put the brains in his own mouth and tried to satisfy himself with the rapture of cuisine. Delicious. The taste awoke his senses and sent thoughts flashing through his mind.

He closed his eyes and savored the unfolding layers of experience, a christmas dinner as a child, that win at the track, the faces of friends this man would never see again.

With every brain Kaveh ate, he remembered parts of his own life and the life of the person whose brains they'd been. This man had come from New Mexico on a business trip. Kaveh kept eating, recalling some lost love, but the thought was empty for him. He couldn't remember if it was his own or his meal's. He thought of Lisa, with her beautiful eyes, and how she'd been kind to him when he was dying, eventually.

He reached again for the open skull, but it was gone. He opened his eyes and saw it in Mister Ballard's hands. The bank manager had his nose buried in the cranial cavity.

This was Kaveh's chance. He concentrated to speak, forcing words through his decomposing larynx. He encouraged the manager to remember, told him he could think again if he tried. The two hadn't seen eye to eye when they were alive, but in death, they might have been the only friends each other would have, so Kaveh watched closely, waiting for the spiteful manager to respond, even to hate him. That would at least be a sign of recognition.

Mister Ballard ate the last of the brain, raised the empty head and looked at its face. Was that a sign? Did he know what he was, what he'd done? Kaveh waited.

The manager turned the head sideways and unceremoniously tore its nose off with his teeth. Then he ate the cheek and lips, the empty consumption of a mindless zombie. It hadn't worked.

Maybe more brains would help. Kaveh went back to the cart and rushed to open another skull. All those years of cooking the American imitation of Indian food, he'd had Speedy's help. He'd never had a deeper need for an ally of any kind, but Speedy was probably with Lisa, hiding somewhere Kaveh would never find them. He opened the skull and turned around to find the hallway deserted. He was truly alone.

He thought of the only other person he'd been able to turn to in this country. Farah's house had an enormous kitchen. He didn't get along well with the Halseys, but he needed some plan, to hold on to a sense of purpose.

He would gather all the zombies together, bring them to his sister's house, and his people would have a feast.

Thank you for reading. For more, visit Smashwords.com