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too scared to speak, too terrified to move at all really. The sat calmly on cold folding chairs trying to sort through the madness in the privacy of their own minds. But children adjust, they always do. It wasn’t long before the two youngest were up and fidgety, barking questions at the adults in the room who were doing their level best to ignore them. Even their own father would only stare blankly into their demanding inquisitive faces as they peppered him with questions.
    “Why are we here?” asked Jacob.
    “Did George do this? Will he be here?” asked Sam.
    “Do you think they will eat us?”
    “Why do they smell so bad?”
    “Do zombies fart?”
    “I’m hungry.”
    On and on they went until the lone woman in the room had enough. “Can you get your brats to shut the fuck up?” she snapped at Mark from her chair.
    Unfortunately, this caused their undead host to snap to attention and walk the short five steps from across the room to stand in front of Tessa. She looked up at the monstrosity, who was dressed only in shredded rags, with terror in her eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sir, I’m just-I’m just exhausted,” she said in a timid, pleading voice.
    The zombie bent at the waist until his gruesome visage was only inches from Tessa’s face. It didn’t speak but shook its head slowly from side to side. Tessa smiled weakly at it as if to say she got the message but screamed as the monster snapped its teeth at her. She fell from her chair in a crying heap. The zombie looked down at her for a moment as if trying to decide if she was truly sorry before turning on its heels and reclaiming its post by the front door.
    Steven eyeballed it all the way back before feeling confident enough to kneel by Tessa’s side and attempt to comfort her. Eventually she was composed enough to retake her seat. Sam and Jacob had found a spot to nestle by their father’s feet and once again the room was silent.
    …
    I had a massive headache, a migraine really. I wasn’t sure though, I never suffered from them before but it damn well hurt like hell. I was alone in the cold kitchen of the old bowling alley. The room was filled with shadows, dust and gloom and it matched my mood. The snow-damp rag I was using to cool my head was no longer cold. The heat from my burning skin had turned it into a dirty version of one of those after dinner wipes given out at fancy restaurants. I took a guess that I was feverish from too many mind-jumping activities in a relatively short amount of time.
    Too much too soon, my dad would have told me. But even if he had been there to give me advice, I wouldn’t have listened. I had a mysterious city to breach, a pregnant girlfriend to save and a father to track down. That last fact was another reason why it would have been super awkward if he was there.
    I was waiting for my last two guests to arrive before going in to address my assembled team. They wouldn’t have been my first choice but they were all I had at the moment so I had to use them. Myself, a nervous father, his two young sons, Crazy Tessa, her boyfriend Steven, two seemingly reasonable soldiers I’d saved from death, a handful of other hard cases I didn’t know and a butt-load of zombies. The B team.
    The last several days had been a brutal education for me on the almost limitless control I had over the undead thanks to whatever weirdness currently floated through my body courtesy of my father. I assumed it was a virus of some sort. A virus never seen before on Planet Earth. It obviously had some technical properties more often seen in things like computers rather than the human body. It turned all those infected with it into soulless man-killing machines. All those except for me that is. I was given some kind of master control dose that allowed me to do remarkable things I shouldn’t have be able to do while retaining my soul, which was a happy benefit.
    I could see through their dead eyes, control them individually or in