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  "Do you want to tell me what is going on?" she asked.

  "I want you to go home," he said.

  "I – I thought this was my home? Our home," she said. She fought to master her emotions – not so much jealously but naked anger.

  Imagine this nigger kicking me to the curb after all I did for him.

  Wily looked at the driver in the mirror and the driver exited the vehicle. He closed the door and they were alone with Mookie. Mookie's eyes tracked the heavyset woman mercilessly.

  "I do not want you to be a party to this any longer. This woman is dinner, nothing more."

  "But I've helped you with this type thing in the past. It doesn't bother me."

  "But it bothers me," said Wiley. "I don't want you to see me like some type of animal. Not anymore."

  Jan took his hand, the glimmer of fear gone. "I don't feel that way about you. I love you."

  Wiley took her face in his large, cold hands. He kissed her. "I appreciate all that you have done for me, Jan. You believed in me when no one else did. We will do great things together."

  Jan smiled, kissed him back. "Yes, we will," she said.

  He pulled back. "But not this." He nodded toward Mookie. "This barbaric act, he and I do alone."

  She tried to speak again but he silenced her with a look. The fear crept back again, which confused her. She just said she loved him but she's also afraid of him?

  Wiley exited the car, spoke to the driver and soon Jan was travelling away from the Wiley brownstone. The last thing she saw as the car left the block was Ben Wiley placing both arms around the woman, an impressive task given her girth, and hugging the poor soul.

  As she rode home she imagined that Wiley wasn't really hugging the woman. He was probably just getting a sense of the amount of food he and Mookie would have to consume.

  She deserves to die, thought Jan. She quickly flushed the woman out of her mind.

  Instead she filled her imagination with thoughts of being a second Michelle Obama. Unlike the first black First Lady, Jan would not choose obesity as her cause.

  Fat people were so very important to keep around for her husband and those of his kind.

  Tamesha Holloway bathed and donned her pajamas for bed. She adjusted her alarm clock, started her music player and left her bedroom. She would hug her grandmother good night, their evening ritual since the first day that her drug addled mother abandoned Tamesha to her care.

  She found Granny T in their kitchen. The woman was on her hands and knees in front of the cabinet below the sink. To her right and left were various cleaning supplies that had been piled in the space.

  Tamesha stood in the doorway and said nothing. Her grandmother sprayed 409 and wiped the cabinet clean with several paper towels. Task completed, Granny T stood and dropped the soiled paper towels in the trash. She turned to face Tamesha. "Come here child," she said.

  Tamesha approached her grandmother and the woman met her with open arms. She held Tamesha as tightly as she could. Finally, she let the child go. She pointed a hand that smelled of disinfectant toward the cabinet underneath the sink. "That be your place," she said.

  "My place, Granny T?"

  "Yes um, that be your place. Once we know the zombies come to this here building, in you go. You hide here child."

  Tamesha bent down and peered into the space. She would just about fit inside. It occurred to her quickly that there was no room for her grandmother.

  "Why can't we go someplace where we can both fit, Granny T?"

  The woman shook her head. "Cause Granny T already seen her demise, child. God done writ my name in His book. But I sees that you gonna make it. And I'm His instrument to make sure that happen."

  Tamesha nodded. She knew not to argue about God's plan for her. She hugged her grandmother again.

  "What's gonna happen to me Granny T?"

  "You gonna hide in this space, then you gonna get saved," she explained.

  "How will I get saved?"

  Eldina Thomas paused, played back her vision in her mind's eye. "I see a man helping you."

  "What man? Who is he?"

  The woman shrugged because she didn't know. All she knew was that Tamesha would be safe if she hid when they was coming. And she knew they were on their way.

  She led her granddaughter back to her bedroom and tucked the child in. She kissed Tamesha on the forehead and left her room.

  After finding places for the displaced cleaning supplies she got herself ready for bed. In her bedroom she got on her knees. She prayed to her god – as she had done every night since her first visions of the undead arrived in her conscious mind. She prayed for Tamesha's safety. After an hour of supplication, she went to sleep.

  Her sleep was uneasy because she knew more than ever that the undead would arrive soon.

  Elias did get a better look – perfect breasts the size of a large man's fists with surprisingly dark, thick areolas. They made it inside his condo, barely. They screwed like animals on his hardwood floor, their bodies cushioned by neither pillow nor throw rug. They felt no discomfort, only bliss.

  Sweaty, they gradually moved the action to Elias' king sized bed.

  After going after each other for hours they fell asleep.

  The next morning Elias woke alone. He stumbled out of bed and quickly made a tour of his place. He was truly alone. And he was slightly taken aback – usually he had to kick women out of his bed, out of his place. They never left on their own accord.

  There was a note on the kitchen counter.

  "Elias - I enjoyed our night together but let's keep emotions out of this. We have to work together and it wouldn't do for you to fall in love with me. When you need some, let me know and I'll be at the ready. I hope you will be likewise for me as we both have needs and given the situation, the new members of our team likely will be dead, which certainly limits our options.

  All the best, Mira."

  TWELVE

  Mira Hidar woke. She checked her BlackBerry - it was late morning. She smiled, thoughts of love making still fresh in her mind. Her smile held as she wondered how Mr. Turnbull would react to her note – she was sure that he had mouthed such words to numerous women in the past. How would he react to being on the receiving end?

  She stretched and slid out of her bed. She paddled out of her bedroom to the bathroom. She used the toilet and brushed her teeth. She washed her face, applied some lotion and a modest amount of makeup. She thought of the day ahead. She had the Wiley meeting in mid afternoon then a quick visit with her grandfather to catch him up. First she would need a latte from Starbucks and maybe a muffin. Mira Hidar cooked nothing in her kitchen.

  The fridge was good for a cool glass of water, nothing more, and speaking of water, she was thirsty.

  She would dress for the Wiley meeting later. For now she donned a pair of blue jeans, a NY Jets sweatshirt and a pair of Avia's with pink micro socks.

  She stepped into her kitchen for the water and stopped cold. Seated around her center aisle were Wiley and his pet zombie Mookie.

  She managed to keep her cool. Her grandfather told her that they could not harm a Hidar.

  "What are you doing in my apartment?" She placed one hand casually against the room's threshold.

  "I would like to have a private conversation before the meeting with the others."

  "Next time you need to call. Are we understood?"

  Wiley smiled. In the light of day, seated in her kitchen bathed in sunlight, Mira was able to appreciate the Hidar handiwork. Wiley's skin was smooth and even. His eyes were bright, intense and active. She could see the muscles move underneath his white knit sweater. Elias was correct – he was much improved - indeed, he could pass for a man in his late thirties. He was far superior to the fat, worn out corpse her grandfather described. They have created some type of superman, enhanced by forty years of political acumen.

  The only distinguishing characteristic of a zombie that remained visible in Wiley was his mouth. Somehow transformation to
a zombie encouraged the growth of teeth long lost in the path of our evolution. These teeth, long sharp tools for cutting through flesh and bone alike, were no longer needed given the invention of tools. In the undead they reappeared, required since the dead need to feed on the living to survive. These teeth were housed in a mouth no longer made to carry them, making the mouth puff out.

  He stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable. Finally he nodded. "I will not do this again."

  "How did you get in here? I have a doorman, building security." She lived in an Upper Eastside luxury apartment. There was money to be made in magic but more money to be made getting the powerful to do things for you, such as leasing you a luxury apartment for twenty bucks a month. Her grandfather didn't like her to live so ostentatiously but she was young, beautiful and in New York. No way was all this talent going to hide in some Brooklyn row house.

  "Think about it – black congressman visiting a pretty white girl."

  "I'm not white, I'm Arab."

  He waved away her distinction. "They practically fell over themselves escorting me to your apartment. They unlocked your door and let me waltz right in. They probably have the paparazzi lined up outside ready to take our picture. I almost hate to disappoint them." He smiled and his pet Mookie mirrored the expression.

  Mira pulled out one of the stools surrounding her center aisle and sat. "What do you want to discuss?"

  "The events from last night," Wiley said. "As you know I don't sleep and I have had much time to think. I gave you three tasks last night. I know you were successful with one. She was delicious by the way." He pointed at Mookie. "He especially enjoyed her generous buttocks but I want to know about the other tasks."

  "You were correct. There was a member of Obama's Secret Service contingent who remained on the roof. Mookie smothered him and I was able to reanimate him."

  "You surely made him capable like me? Otherwise he would be detected."

  "Yes."

  Wiley smiled. "Funny, I thought you needed the two potions to make a zombie more alive?"

  The words caught in Mira's throat. She struggled to surface a lie but none was forthcoming.

  "Cat got your tongue, Miss Hidar? There is no need for dissembling, my dear."

  Mira found her voice. "The pink and green were meant to deceive Jan into thinking that the elixirs needed to be provided regularly to maintain your new state. Actually my grandfather dosed you with another potion."

  "You wanted a facade of dependence."

  "Yes."

  "Meaning, you thought Jan or someone else would be in charge. Not me. I must be surprising to you."

  Mira nodded. "You are more capable than most we have re-animated."

  "Any theory regarding why?"

  "I haven't spoken to my grandfather yet but I have two theories."

  "Yes?"

  "The young woman's love. Even prior to the reanimating magic, you were evolving, growing more lifelike. I think her attentions caused that."

  "Your second theory?"

  "Naked ambition. Your lust for power and authority is very strong. I believe that has acted as an accelerant, pushing you beyond the normal capabilities for a 'person' of your type."

  Wiley thought about what he was hearing. After a minute: "I believe both theories are correct. And both reinforce my thoughts that I have been chosen for great things."

  Mookie stood, toppling over his chair. He looked around the kitchen, stepped over to one wall and placed his ear against it.

  "What is he doing?" Wiley asked.

  "There's a dog next door. Zombies have something against household pets."

  Wiley laughed, settled his eyes back on Mira. "I remember, back when I was a mere undead brute, Hamid giving me a blue liquid. The real potion, I assume?"

  "Yes."

  "And you just happened to be carrying some of this real potion with you last night?"

  "I reached out with my mind, made it appear."

  More like she reached out with her cell and called her grandfather.

  Wiley nodded. "How did you manage with your final task?"

  "I spoke to Elias in private and he appeared to take me in his confidence."

  "Strange how the possibility of sleeping with a beautiful woman gets a man's tongue to moving." He laughed and Mookie – ear still against the wall – joined him. "Is he loyal to me?" Wiley asked.

  Mira nodded. "He is. If he has any misgivings he hid them well." She lied – she didn't know why because the flashy Mr. Turnbull didn't mean anything to her except for a nice stiff dick. She had clearly sensed unease in the man's body language, if not his words.

  "He is focused on taking your place in Congress. He craves power and you can give it to him."

  Wiley nodded. "Good. Now, on to you and Hamid. What do you crave? Why are you willing to help me take over the world?"

  Mira smiled. "You want to take over the world now? I thought last night you only wanted to be president?"

  "I don't sleep. The more I thought about it I wondered why I should stop with the presidency."

  Mira shrugged. "The Hidar's have been serving the rich and powerful for thousands of years, Mr. Wiley. As slaves, we performed magical acts for the pharaohs. It was my people who competed against Moses and the God of Abraham. We have served royalty in Europe, Asia and Africa. The twentieth century was very violent but we survived. But our homeland was taken away by America, Britain and especially the Israelis. My grandfather came here to assure the future of our people in an independent state. His interest, and my interest, is the survival of the Palestinian people. Frankly, Mr. Wiley, I doubt that you can become president much less take over the world. If you do, what you do with the rest of the world is no concern of ours. We want your assurance that you will do all you can to aid the cause of our people, regardless of your position."

  "What would stop me from killing you for brunch and then going to your grandfather's shop and making him our lunch?"

  It was Mira's turn to smile. "One, you need us. If the transformation of the Secret Service agent is reflective of your strategy, you desire more reanimated zombies, especially those with the position and resources to help your cause."

  Wiley nodded.

  "You can't make anyone else into a zombie without us. And if you're thinking that somehow you could make one of us into a zombie and have the zombie Hidar create more zombies, it doesn't work that way. Once the body is dead, so dies the ability to make zombies or any magic."

  "Someone has tried before?"

  "Yes, King Richard had us reanimate Merlin but the resulting zombie was incapable of magic."

  "You had a second reason?"

  "Zombies cannot directly or indirectly murder their creators."

  "I cannot kill Hamid or order it done?"

  "You cannot. And if somehow my grandfather dies, you die automatically. Your new life is tethered to his."

  "So that leaves me no choice but to work with you both." He considered the implications of this for a few long moments. Decision made, he spoke again.

  "I'll need you close. Nominally you will act as my chief of staff. After I take over HUD I will need you to develop a more efficient means of making living people into beings like me."

  "More efficient?"

  "I need to convert thousands to be successful. Doing like you did to that Secret Service agent will take a long time."

  Mira thought for a moment. "I'll talk to my grandfather today. Perhaps he has some thoughts."

  "Good." He pointed at Mookie. "As much as I enjoy his silence, could you do something about our friend?"

  She disappeared momentarily and returned to the room with a flask of blue liquid. She walked over to the zombie, handed him the flask and he drank greedily. She placed the empty container on the counter and sat down.

  Mira said the spell under her breath and immediately the man's skin became healthy, his eyes full of life. She said another spell. This one caused no immediate transformation.

  "He'
ll regain his mental faculties within fifteen minutes. He'll be good as new. Better perhaps."

  Wiley smiled, stood and so did Mookie. He extended his hand and Mira stood and shook his hand. His flesh was cold – another sign of the undead.

  "We will have a very long and fruitful relationship, Miss Hidar."

  "I expect so, Mr. Wiley, and call me Mira."

  He let her hand go and motioned for Mookie to leave the room. "By all means, call me Ben. You are one of my 'inner circle' and should have the privilege of addressing me by my first name."

  With one final smile he was gone.

  After he left she went to her front door and locked it. She knew the man was no threat to her but she locked it nonetheless. Back in the kitchen she poured a cool glass of water and drank it down. She stared at the empty glass and pulled a bottle of rum from her near empty cabinet. She poured herself two fingers and gulped it down, some spilling onto her Jets sweatshirt.

  She felt unease and soon left the apartment, searching for the latte that would make the feeling go away. Multiple shots of espresso and syrup later, she felt the same way. What she and her grandfather unleashed was dangerous and they would have to be very careful in terms of how they controlled him.

  Wiley, no longer dependent on others to drive him about, sat behind the wheel of his silver Mercedes SL. The newly restored Mookie was seated in the passenger chair. He was not a happy…ummm…creature.

  "I say we kill that bitch and her grandpappy. See what happens. Whip, whop, wham, man."

  Wiley laughed. "And if we stop running like a couple of tinker toys with the keys pulled out the back? What do we do then, Mookie?"

  His fellow undead stayed silent as they approached Wiley campaign headquarters, the site of their meeting. Wiley liked the fact that Mookie still retained the follower behavior he exhibited when he was just a dumb zombie. Wiley hoped that the new zombies that were created would similarly look to him as their leader. He made a mental note to pursue this with the Hidar's.

  "I think we need to test it, then," Mookie said after a while. "We need to – what do they call it? – independently verify it." Wiley was startled at his companion's vocabulary. He seemed to have gained a few brain cells in his new state.