by Rod Drake
Life is indeed full of surprises, and sometimes they aren’t good ones. I’m getting into a cab on a rainy day in Seattle (like that’s a surprise), and my cabdriver turns out to be a zombie, even stranger, someone that I’d killed when he was human a year ago. Ever since zombies got protected class status, they turn up in all sorts of menial, aka, mindless, jobs. Mookie wasn’t the sharpest tack in the box when he was alive, working as one of Big Mickey’s hired thugs, and being a zombie dropped his IQ even lower (if that was possible). But eventually Mookie figured out I was his killer, so we ended up fighting in the cab until finally his reckless driving crashed us through the side of the Eaton Brain Disease Research Facility (ironic, I know). Seeing all those brains floating in specimen jars paralyzed Mookie with mouth-watering joy, such that he forgot all about me, giving me the time to douse him with rubbing alcohol and torch him, killing him for a second time (good riddance again).
Rod Drake feels it's better to see a zombie than be one.