“Do you think that they’re intelligent?” Whispered, in the darkness.
“Zombies are practically by definition unintelligent. They’re human beings minus intelligence. People reduced to their appetites and passions.”
“No. Not passions. They’re entirely devoid of passion. That’s part of why we’re so afraid of them. That and the fact that they want to eat our brains.”
“This isn’t Plants vs. Zombies. The whole ‘brains’ thing is just a cheesy stereotype. They’re cannibals but they’ll probably take your arm just as happily as your frontal lobe.”
The boys are huddled near a gabled window. One is an artist, dressed in a lovely pea-green coat. is a Stoic, wearing an old cardigan and a worn t-shirt. It’s dark and they can’t see anything down below, but the fine spray of pin-prick starlight is somehow comforting. Besides, the window gives the impression that they are gathering intelligence, that if something happened down there they might see.
