Ravi had gone to sleep that Tuesday, at around ten o'clock, same as normal. He was barely asleep for an hour when he woke up, wincing, sucking in a breath feeling what his body registered as a nightmare but he knew was something else. He got out of bed and confirmed it with a glance in the mirror.
There was a very prominent white streak in his hair. There was a certain glow missing from his complexion. He was a zombie. Ravi looked at his clock to make note of it. By Friday at midnight, he should be free of it for another few weeks.
But for now he was restless. Something about being a zombie had never meshed well with sleep.
He made his way down to the door to get a little air, to think about what he would do. He'd been considering what he'd do, during the zombie times, hoping the hotel would provide. He decided not to check just yet. Until he opened that spare refrigerator, he both did and didn't have a meal for later. Schrödinger's Tupperware.
He found himself near the greenhouse, a place he'd only peeked into before. He didn't remember the blood being there before. Ravi's doctor instinct kicked in first; he rushed in, checked the scene, took her pulse. She was dead, clearly had fallen and cracked her head open.
He felt the hunger rise. His eyes went red.
There was no controlling this. Ravi began to eat. Normally they cooked their brains, disguised it as other food, but this was fine too; warm, bloody, and he was so hungry.
Maybe no one would notice, when they found the poor woman's body the next morning, that she was missing a large amount of brain matter.