“Not likely, but since we aren’t entirely sure what makes a zombie turn flesh eater, forgive me if I worry.”

“I’m not saying don’t worry, or don’t hurry, just trying to get a feel for what I don’t understand.”

I slammed on the brakes as a truck tried to get out of the way of the lights and sirens by pulling out directly in front of me. “Idiot!”

“You drive, I’ll talk,” Manny said, and glanced back at Nicky as he started to tell everything we knew about flesh-eating zombies, which wasn’t actually very much. “The most common cause of a zombie turning flesh eater is a murder victim called from the grave.”

“I know murder vics rise with only one purpose, to kill their murderer; that’s why police can’t just raise the dead and ask who killed them.”

“You’ve been asking questions,” Manny said.

“It’s the only way to figure stuff out if I can’t do it myself, and I can’t raise the dead.”

“I like this one,” Manny said to me. He got a death grip on the oh-shit handle, but his voice never wavered as I careened around yet another car that wasn’t getting out of the way.

“Me, too,” I said, and then went back to concentrating the hell out of driving.

“Thanks,” Nicky said automatically, but I knew his face would match the tone; he said thanks because he was supposed to, not because it mattered to him. “But are you saying that murder victims attack and eat people, or eat their murderer?”

“Most of the time, no,” Manny said. “They just rise willing to hurt or kill anyone who gets between them and their murderer. Until they get their vengeance, they don’t obey the animator who raised them, or any other magic, but if they can’t find their killer right away sometimes they turn to flesh eating.”

I roared through a red light, flinching, hoping the cars all obeyed my lights and not the traffic ones. We got through safely, but it always freaked me out to run a red light. “It’s like they wake up more the longer they’re out of the grave, and if they start to eat flesh they don’t rot as quickly,” I said, risking a glance in the rearview mirror, so I could see Nicky’s serious face.

“So do all murder vics who don’t get their killers turn flesh eater?”

“No,” Manny said.

“This zombie isn’t a murder victim, though, right?” Domino said.

“No, I made certain of that. He died in his bed of disease, not in battle.”

“Do soldiers count themselves as murder vics?” Nicky asked.

“I’ve known it to happen,” Manny said, “but usually not.”

“Manny taught me to be uber-cautious about shit like that, though.”

“The most common flesh eater is a zombie that was an animator, witch, or voodoo priest in life,” Manny said.

“Like you and Anita,” Nicky said.

“Yes,” Manny said, “which is why we both have legal papers in place to be beheaded and cremated upon death.”

“Scary stuff,” Domino said.

I slowed down and turned off the sirens. We were close enough to the restaurant that I didn’t want to spook the zombie. He was far too aware for comfort.

“So this zombie isn’t a murder vic, or a witch, or anything, so why is Anita so worried he’ll start eating people?” Domino asked.

“Because zombies don’t eat anything. They don’t need to eat, because they’re dead, and there’s no reason to put fuel in something that isn’t burning fuel anymore,” Manny said.

I said, “Any time a zombie has ever said it’s hungry, to me it’s hungry for the flesh of the living. I’ve never, ever heard of one wanting to go out for a nice breakfast of sausage and eggs.”

“So you’re afraid when he finishes his food, it won’t satisfy him and he’ll turn on the people in the restaurant,” Nicky said.

“Yes.” I turned off the swirling lights on my SUV as I spotted the big yellow Denny’s sign.

“Exactly,” Manny said.

“So neither of you has ever heard of a zombie eating anything but people?” Domino asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Yes,” Manny said.

“Okay then,” Domino said, “I understand the rush.”

“Do we start out with the shotgun and rifles?” Nicky asked.

I slowed down, easing through the last bit of traffic as I made toward the restaurant. Once I turned off the lights I was just another car and all the traffic laws applied to me again. I’d had some of the other regular cops explain to me that once the lights and sirens were turned off on an unmarked car, the magic get-out-of-my-fucking-way card vanished. Some people seemed to go out of their way to block you once the light show was over. It was like they resented it or something. It was hard to slow down after driving like a bat out of hell, but I’d learned that the other plainclothes cops were right, and people would get in your way just like now. It made me want to scream at the cars, but an accident this close to the goal would slow me down more than a little bit of traffic.

“No, we go in with just the handguns and what we have on us. Let’s see if I can persuade the zombie to walk out with us; less chance of any innocent bystanders getting hurt,” I said.

“Doesn’t the zombie have to obey you?” Domino asked.

“Normally, yes, but if he goes flesh eater he won’t obey anyone. I can probably hold him with will and magic for a few minutes; if that happens, then go to the car and get the big guns while I try to control the zombie.”