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like large barbed stems of coral, dripping with blood and sputum.
    The mandibles waved about as if they were sense organs… as well as weapons.
    She knew, somehow, that they were both.
    Becky made an unconscious squeaking sound— and her eyes widened as she saw the Undead’s mandibles waving, seeking, snuffling at the air. The thing turned around, searching for them, sensing, now, that they were close at hand.
    Alice signed to Becky.
    “Whatever happens, you stay here.” Becky looked at up at her, open mouthed, staring, rigid with fear.
    Hands trembling, Alice forced herself to sign.
    “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
    She reached for the blanket, began to cover Becky with it.
    “I love you, Mommy,” Becky signed.
    Eyes hot with tears, Alice responded.
    “I love you, too.”

5
    Alice pulled the comforter over Becky, aware of the Undead standing just outside the closet door. She felt it looming; she could smell the reek of it.
    She got slowly to her feet as the Undead pawed at the door—took a breath, and threw the doors open, the edge of one catching the creature on its down-tilted head, making it stagger back, lose its footing.
    The thing crashed against the crib, smashing it, entangling in its blankets and hinged fragments. It thrashed for just a couple of moments, long enough for Alice to slam the closet doors shut.
    As long as it didn’t see her…
    When she turned, the Undead was freeing itself, getting to its feet, mandibles gnashing furiously. Alice raced toward the door, the living dead man stumbling and lurching along behind her, raking the back of her right shoulder with its grasping, clawlike fingernails.
    She went through the door, tried to slam it in the Undead’s face, but it slapped the door aside and came after her. So she ran. She was partway to the stairs when it lunged, grabbed her around the waist, and knocked her to the floor. Alice turned, writhing around in its grasp, hating to look at it but forced to face it so she could push it away. The thing was clawing its way up her body, the mandibles waving.
    She bent her leg, bringing her knee up hard and sharp, into its throat—the mandibles retracted a little and the creature shook its head, seemed confused, its grip on her legs loosening. She scuttled backward, kicking at its hands, and got to her feet. It was up almost as quickly, clawing at her, pushing its head forward, trying to get its snapping mandibles within reach…
    She smelled the corruption of its dead, decaying innards, the rot it gasped into her face…
    Alice teetered on the edge of the top step. The Undead sprang at her, and she recoiled, losing her footing. They both went over, down the stairs. Alice tumbled one way, almost somersaulting down the carpeted steps. The Undead crashed through the wooden banister.
    Groaning and winded at the bottom of the stairs, Alice forced herself to stand. No bones seemed broken—but everything ached. She looked for the Undead—and saw that it had impaled itself on the splintered support of a railing, the spike going through its belly and out its back. Rotting black blood seethed up around the wound. The creature struggled, its mandibles helplessly grabbing at air—but it wasn’t going anywhere.
    Alice turned—and found herself staring into the red-rimmed, glazed eyes of what had once been her husband.
    It was Todd—or what remained of Todd. His white shirt was soaked in blood. His face was the color the shirt had been when she’d gotten it from the dry cleaner’s. Dead white.
    “Todd…” The sound of his name escaped from her throat in a whimper.
    The Undead Todd stared… For a moment she thought, perhaps, the thing remembered her. She thought it might turn away, and let her go.
    And then it struck, grabbing her shoulders in a painful grip, its mouth opened—wider, too wide— ripping open so the mandibles could extrude, sharp as fangs, extending to rip into her face.
    All the fight drained from her, and she felt the