Jimbo was happier than he had been since coming back from the dead, finally away from that bitch Nancy he could be his own man. He had been maintaining a charade of ignorance and slowness since his last meal, when he had sneaked a bit more of the meal than Nancy had suspected. He thought he was thinking as clearly as he had before he died and even if his body was still slower than before death it was his mind that mattered with a good mind he could lay plans for his liberation and everything worked out well so far. He just had to make absolutely sure he never ran into Nancy again. Ever. That vindictive bitch would make him pay in spades if he were ever at her mercy again. His plan to make sure that never happened would be to form his own gang and eat, and eat and eat, every meal made him stronger and he would eventually gain enough power to no longer be afraid of anyone.
Once he made it out of the building he no longer felt so compelled to stay close to her, compelled to follow her every command like some sort of twisted masochist. Now he could eat when and what he wanted, and as much of the kill as he needed, no more second fiddle to a bunch of tiny bobbing, dressed up skanks. He exited the Mac Co. building and headed into the parking lot, looking to see which direction he could go, preferably towards a suburb somewhere to get himself a snack. Plus the risk was low, liberals didn’t have guns and in this part of town people drove hybrid cars and smoked dope in their back yards. They would pay for that now, it was only right. As he neared the far edge of the parking lot he saw a male zombie shambling around and he got that familiar taint of a feeling again, the one that said, “Come to me.” Nothing he could not break free of, but uncomfortable in it's own way. Could it be? The very man Nancy was looking for?
Jim crept closer and looked on the zombie. 'Pathetic! He is in even worse shape than I am! How can I use this?' Jim thought for a moment and then stepped up to the other man and grabbed him by the arm, turning him into the light just a bit. Sure as shit, he had a key card that read ‘Fredrick Smith’ dangling from a cord on his belt with the words 'Mac Co.' emblazoned on the front above his picture. ‘Oh this is good.’, thought Jim, ‘Very good indeed!’