Simon lay on his back with his head twisted sideways to stare out the window. He was on top of something, a bed, which was on top of something else. Stacked. Oh, yeah, they were on top of another room, like his.

The sky was a pretty shade of dull grey that day. It was speckled with large black birds that looked like tiny specks scattering the expanse. Simon reached an unsteady hand out toward the window, as if he could touch them. It was all he could manage, reaching his hand out.

It wasn't entirely because he felt too weak to move. He thought that, were he determined enough, he could get up and out the window. The difficulty he had with moving lay in the complexity of ropes he had pinning him to the mattress. The ropes wrapped down around the bed, and the knots were so simple, yet he could only stare at them with no clue as to how he could untie the bonds. They should have been simple, but they were more of a puzzle to him than anything else.

If he tried to think about it too hard, he would get this splitting headache that overtook his entire brain and could even crawl painfully down his spine.

It was better to just stare at the pretty things in his view. It took no thinking to be amazed. His view out the window, at the open sky, seemed nice. Thinking about the birds, something much simpler than the puzzle ensnaring him, made him drool a bit, but left his head pain free.

Simon could only hold up his hand for a short while. He would lift it again later, when more birds came into view. He planned on catching one, at some point. It wasn't quite apparent to him yet that they were out of his reach.

He was getting a little frustrated, though, which was giving him a sharp sensation in his head. It wasn't quite a headache, but the fact that he was getting aches in his head without much thinking upset him further. He began to take up whimpering, even though that sound always seemed to upset the light-topped one.

Er, no, that wasn't the light-topped one. He had to call that one something else. Something specific. It was because… He couldn't think of it. What someone was called. There were words for it, and he had to call that one something. Because he was someone special or something…

Or just food. Simon stopped thinking and resumed drooling on himself. There was really only one way of viewing the light-topped one: Delicious. Good, good, he remembered that word just then. Could he say it? Well, it was probably better to not attempt that.

He watched the light-topped one move closer to his bed. If only he were a little closer…

Simon flexed his legs against his bonds. The movement was too soon, giving away his intentions to his prey. Now that one would flee…

He whined at his mistake, watching with dismay as the light-topped one stayed definitely out of reach. If only he could move his upper part better. It was feeling extra heavy, though, and the ropes didn't help.

"Is there something wrong, Simon?" The light-topped one always frowned at him while speaking. It didn't make Simon feel very good, for some reason he was unsure of. Simon understood the words this time, so he decided he would reply.

"H-H-huuungg-" He had to really heave his lungs to speak, and his tongue still didn't move properly. The result was a mostly guttural groan that made the light-topped one cringe to a small degree. (What was that called, exactly? Winking?)

"I fed you an hour ago," said the light-topped one.

"Mur!" Simon instantly demanded. He was so, so desperately hungry. It hurt more than his caving chest and much more than the sharp pinches that distress caused in his brain.

"Sorry, Simon," said the light-topped one, "But meat ain't cheap and you've downed a whole roast already." Simon thought he remembered that. He remembered eating something earlier, but that must have been ages ago. Still, he could summon the taste, in a sort of faded way, in his mouth. The memory brought up more tasteless juice in his mouth, some of which seeped out around the corners of his lips.

"Yummm," Simon managed to croak. When he opened his mouth to make the scratchy sound, the sticky saliva that had collected in his mouth stuck between the roof and the bottom and made a bubble that peeked out between his opened lips. Simon saw the light-topped one wink.

"Yeah, well," said the light-topped one, hesitantly. "Are you okay besides that?"

Hmm, Simon wasn't sure he got any of those words. He tried to make a bubble in his mouth again, but only accomplished shooting spit down his chin and onto his chest.

He felt kind of gross, but only momentarily. Zombies don't usually mind their hygiene.

His chest rattled, and a cough forced its way out. The light-topped human stood in the doorway, tantalizingly in view.

"H-huuuurrrrt!" Simon groaned, because he did hurt. All over. From his throbbing feet to his aching head, he hurt. His rib cage sank and screamed, his stomach writhed with a combination of hunger and indigestion, and even lower than that, his insides bemoaned uncomfortable existences.

He thought he was on fire. Where he could feel sensations, he thought that there was something burning. He wanted to scream, but his vocal cords were burning, too. He couldn't move his clenched jaw either. His sore eyes became swimmy.

He tried to quell his panic. Watch the black things, he told himself, watch the moving things through the see-through wall. He turned his head to stare out the window.

He could make himself feel nothing, with little concentration at all. There was an uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles, at first, but then there wasn't much to feel after that. He knew he was still there, but he didn't feel on fire anymore. Which was nice. Nice like staring at the see-through square.

He fell unconscious, because that was nice and easy, especially when he let himself go numb.