The hours dragged on as they drove the highway, and Poe discovered they had little to talk about as the states passed by. Poe talked a great deal about how he’d studied fervently to get into Harvard and do a degree in Philosophy, and about how the whole philosophy department on campus was split right down the middle on what ideas to uphold about the whole zombie thing.

  Not that there was anything they could really do. The cat—the rotten, dead cat that was the zombie discourse—had already leapt far out of the bag and into the political discourse too.

  States were no longer divided down the middle as red or blue, but rather green and pink. Broadly speaking, green states both sanctioned and allowed zombies to be resurrected, while pink states kept the practice banned entirely. There was a wide spectrum of policy among the states in both camps, but it had become clear earlier on that the subject of zombies was to become the last major philosophical and political battle of the 20th century.

  Bella remained mute for much of his lectures as they drove, conserving her thoughts—her energy—in case things were to grow dire for them between here and Massachusetts, which was a green state surrounded by pink states. Even the practice of resurrection had been too much for the more liberal-minded New England states. It would’ve been for Massachusetts too, if it wasn’t for the abundance of clever minds who ran in circles there at the universities of Harvard, MIT, and Boston College.

  Poe ended up getting more words out of a dismal telephone box when they decided to make a pit stop along a narrow country road, which was adjacent to a large canopy of forest. It had only taken six hours, but Poe had finally cracked under the strain of the rotten odour Bella was giving off inside the car and needed a breather.

  He felt he had to ask, ever so gently, if she would stay in the forest for the time being as he took the call. They were now in Maryland, a pink state—one of several pink states still to get through before they reached Massachusetts.

  Poe had heard awful stories of young zombie girls being snatched the moment their human partner’s back was turned—hooligans looking to make mincemeat out of a new minority. He felt it was the next evolution of campfire stories, tales that had clung onto the changes in culture to stay relevant for the next generation. Again, he was skeptical of such thoughts, but it would do no harm to heed their folk messages if he and Bella were to get to Massachusetts alive.

  (Err—alive for himself. Undead for Bella.)

  He began rattling down the number of the only person he felt would barge down his door at Harvard for answers unless he called her first.

  “POE?” Cassie practically screeched from across the static line.

  “Yes. I did it.” He felt it was wise to come clean now.

  “YOU DID?”

  “YES!” He hated that he had to exclaim over these shoddy telephone lines. It wasn’t in his introverted nature to shout.

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  “HOW?”

  “Using Winston’s notes.”

  “WHAT?” He felt her perking up even further. Everything that centered around Winston caused Cassie to rise to attention.

  “I won it in a poker game. He’d done much of the work already.” A lie, but it was better she believed that than think her little brother was some diabolical necromancer genius who’d crossed the sacred line on his own initiative.

  “For God’s sake, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  He did. It had hung over him when he first went to Bella’s grave and pondered what his choices were, and what downfall awaited him if he were caught. Or if he’d made a shoddy mistake while spellcasting. Or any of the multitude of other things that could’ve turned him and the entire world upside down. In North Carolina, such a charge meant decades—perhaps even centuries—locked in prison. He’d risked it to bring Bella back, and now they were across state lines like a pair of Bonnie & Clyde fugitives in search of sanctuary on Harvard’s hallowed grounds.

  “Do you even have any plans for what to do with her?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking she could get a part-time job while I’m reading through textbooks.”

  She practically yelped up in the air when she heard that.

  “Who’s going to hire a zombie, Poe?!”

  Cassie was right. Who would hire a zombie—one that smelt terrible and was still getting the hang of her old body again? One who couldn’t work as a babysitter, lest she traumatize a child, or as a maid, because that would defeat the whole disinfecting-and-cleaning thing maids were supposed to do.

  He hadn’t thought this through at all. Not what he was doing. Not what he would do with her.

  Then he felt Bella’s cold, green, wormed hands begin to entwine with his as she started to pull him away from the receiver. Staying alone in that forest had dredged up far too many memories of the day she was gunned down by a stranger. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to move around the world she’d so desperately missed—but not without someone there.

  “Cassie, I have to go. Talk another time?”

  “Wait! Don’t you dar—”

  Too late. Poe slammed the receiver down with a sudden crash, and began to race into the necks of the forest with her. She was moving faster than he’d expected—far too fast for a zombie—and then suddenly he wondered why zombies had always been portrayed as these slow, plodding creatures when they were just humans who’d been given their vital essence back.

  She led the two of them to a large oak tree where she stayed put for the grand total of several seconds, soaking up all the shade while forest critters stayed clear of the rotten, odorous flesh that now clung to the place.

  He settled down alongside her and started to think over what the future held. He’d committed a crime—yes—bringing her back. But would Harvard really hand them over to North Carolina when they were in need of more zombies to study?

  He could only worry. And then his mind started to get anxious about some slight that might come in his direction. Then his mind began to wander, taking on far more troubling thoughts than need be, until Bella reached for him and wrapped her long green arms around him—like he’d done when he comforted her in that North Carolina forest many years ago.

  “I’m here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  It was a strange choice of words to ask. He should’ve wondered if he was really here—still living—and whether a part of his soul had broken off and fragmented in that graveyard, slithering its way into the hands of some terrible demon he’d unknowingly invoked to bring Bella back.

  But he would wait.

  They could lie here for a few minutes—perhaps even for a few seconds—and then they could get up again, drive through several more states, and still make it in time for Harvard. There, the two of them might find refuge with Poe’s curious friends until his rental lease began again in Quincy.

  Then what?

  Poe tried to suppress it, but it came back to bite—even as Bella gently guided her long green arms around his neck like mossy rope, placing her chin on the top of his head.

  Then what?

  Then what?