"I'm not really sure." Julie picked up her coffee mug, forgetting it was empty. "As far as I can tell they took a new drug last night. They called it medicine but he hesitated and you know what students are like."
Felicia laughed. "I remember what I was like. I'd take a tab of E and dance the night away. That was in the days when E was still pure and not the toxic shit they sell these days."
"How do you know?" Julie looked horrified. "Do you still take it?"
"Certainly not." Felicia tapped the side of her nose. "I can smell the impurities from ten yards away. I tell you, if I ever wanted to rip the throats out of mortals I'd start with the dealers."
"It seems I was in the minority then" Harold sniffed, still holding his teacup. "When I was a student we didn't need to take drugs. We were already high on academia and would wander the streets of Oxford declaiming Milton."
"I'm not surprised." Julie reached over to refill her coffee cup. "Wasn't he the one that made really stupid board games?"
"I don't think so." Harold's tone was icy. "I think you'll find he was a poet, relating the fall of Lucifer." He tapped his lips. "Actually, I'll have to ask Dad if it was anywhere near the truth. It'd be amusing to discover Milton had actually made a pact with a demon for the exclusive. I could write a paper on it."
"How splendid for you." Julie glared at him, though whether for the change of subject or because she felt threatened by academia Harold wasn't sure. "But before you go charging off to research ancient history, what about these zombies?"
"What about them?" Harold waved a hand. "I doubt they'll survive very long. Somebody will take their heads off. Did you want to do it personally?"
"No. I told you. I rather liked them. They're not like cartoon zombies with the fixation on brains. I gave them Gillian's card. Told her to see if she could find a legal statute to keep them alive."
"Oh right. That's good." Harold patted her shoulder. "She'll rip their heads off and charge them an hourly rate to do it."
"I don't want her to." Julie with trembling. Harold thought it might be exasperation. Or needing the toilet. "These are special guys. Why are they still in their own bodies? Why are they intelligent? Why are they not trying to eat living flesh?"
"Give them time." Felicia stood and looked out of the glass door of her office as a visitor wandered into the gallery. "Once their brains start to deteriorate they'll lose their intelligence and start attacking. They don't have a circulation, you see. They need to imbibe blood to keep themselves from further decay, and eating brains nourishes their own. The curse of a zombie is they don't actually want to be brainless, so they forever pursue something they cant retain."