Chapter 2: Zombie Dad’s Powers

Dad came back to life.

It wasn’t some miracle resurrection in a hospital room. No, he was sprawled out on the twin bed we’d shoved into the living room after his heart gave out, eyes open and voice rough as gravel.

Sprawled out on the bed, he asked, "Kiddo, what’s for dinner tonight?"

His voice was hoarse, like a ghost echoing in the dark.

He sounded like he’d just finished a pack of unfiltered Camels, voice scratching through the air. The shadows in the room seemed to press in tighter, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

I stared at him, on edge, not daring to answer.

Every hair on my arm stood up. The old photos on the wall—family trips to Lake Erie, high school graduation—seemed to watch along with me. I didn’t dare say a word, barely even breathed.

Dad had clearly stopped breathing and died.

No pulse, no warmth, just stillness—until now. My mind spun, trying to find any logical explanation, but all I could do was remember how cold his hands had felt.

Before he died, he told me to go to the city and find my sister, who was working as a housekeeper.

His last words came back to me, whispered between shallow breaths: "Go find your sister, Mindy. She’s working over in Columbus now, cleaning for some family. She’ll know what to do."

Didn’t take a genius—this had to be some restless spirit borrowing his body to come back.

I’d seen enough late-night ghost stories to know when something wasn’t right. This wasn’t my dad—not exactly. It felt like a piece of him was missing, replaced by something stranger.

If I answered, he’d probably eat me alive.

Yeah, I’d watched enough zombie flicks to know how this went. If I played along, who knows what would happen?

So that night, our stomachs took turns growling, making a racket.

The old heater rattled, mixing with the sound of our empty bellies. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wishing for Mom’s old chicken soup or even a cup of cheap ramen. The wind rattled the windowpanes, and I pulled the blankets tighter around me, listening to Dad’s raspy breathing from the other side of the house.