“Welcome, Mr. O’Connor. Have a seat?â€? I indicate the recliner next to my desk, as the patient enters my office.

“No thanks,â€? he says. “I prefer to stay moving. Keeps rigor from setting.â€?

“Of course.â€?

He moves around the room, examines the degrees on my wall. His fingers bend and flex at his sides, as if he expects to draw a six-gun at any moment.

“What shall we talk about today, Mr. O’Connor?â€? I ask.

“Please. Liam.â€? He catches me looking at his fingers. Embarassed, he moves to the bookcase and pulls out a tome. It just happens to be the one I co-wrote with Arthur. He leafs through it, not really reading. Just flipping pages absent-mindedly.

“What’s on your mind, Liam?â€? I ask again.

He looks up from the book to face me. There are no signs of decay on him. He was either raised within hours of his death, or by a powerful necromancer. Possibly both.

“I really do like the McGees,â€? he says at last. “Really I do. But I’m not sure I thought it through when I agreed to be a zombie for them…â€?