Disturbed Hank and the others withdrew from the morgue, disillusioned they sat down in the room that was the farthest away from it. An undead that had regained some level of selfawareness and intelligence!

“He has the advantage of self control, he won’t feed on innocent people who are just trying to survive!” an elderly man spoke up, he missed the bookshop he once had, the people he was forced to live with these days seemed like the kind of folks that avoided a bookshop at all costs. Not the kind of people he liked to spend time with, but circumstances did not allow him to be picky.

Hank assumed that Zed also could use his intelligence as an advantage over regular undead people and especially feed on the living who had thought of themselves safe. “If he’s self aware, I think he is going to be self preserving! He had fired up the furnace and glared into it only to turn it off.”

Again Hank just snorted dismissing the idea. The undead just had to stay in the morgue, they could not let it escape.

Sentient or not, Mr. Zed was, so to speak, the enemy.

“I’ll look after him, keep packing.” Hank turned to leave, all the suffering they had to endure at the hands of the undead now had a face and a name to vent to. He wanted to see the undead suffer when he realized they were not to let him out. Locked up in the morgue until the last piece of rotten flesh falls off of him.

Great was hanks surprise and terror when he found the doors of the morgue torn open, the undead gone. In the distance of the funeral home, through the wide open front door the almost maniacally laughing croak of a crow reached him as to taunt him.