Become a zombie

I am zombie. I gaze. I moan. I shuffle my feet. I feed. A throng of unfortunate mall-goers are nothing more than a buffet. A mother, or father, or son, or uncle, or sibling, or lover… nothing more than a meal. I feast upon their warm, pulsing flesh. I crack bone between my teeth, while the crimson tears soak the earth. I move on.
They do not. Out of the lifeless flesh something stirs. They become something more. They become zombie.