Chapter 3: Miracles and Reeds

Two days later, Zombie Dad’s powers were strong, like he could control some crazy force.

It was eerie—like he’d found some hidden reserve of energy. He moved with a confidence I’d never seen, cracking his knuckles and stretching as if he’d just come back from a spa weekend.

My real dad’s frail body was actually healed by him.

His color improved, cheeks less sunken, eyes a little brighter. Even the limp he’d had since his accident was gone, as if time itself had rewound for him.

His back straightened, and he looked way taller than before. He stretched, bones popping, and flashed me a crooked grin—like he’d just come home from a ten-mile run instead of the grave.

He walked over to the table, picking through the wild greens soup I made.

"Back where I’m from, even pigs would turn their snouts up at this. You sure this isn’t lawn clippings?"

He made a face, wrinkling his nose as he pushed the wilted dandelion leaves around the bowl. I could almost hear my stomach protesting, but at least it was something to eat.

I immediately caught the weird phrasing.

It sounded off—like he was talking in code or maybe just from another planet.

"Where’s ‘where you come from’?"

The afterlife?

Was he talking about the great beyond, or just a different part of Ohio?

He was eating so well—could he really be some evil spirit?

I studied the way he tore into the stale bread, like he hadn’t eaten in years. Ghosts didn’t usually have an appetite, right?

Sigh, Dad and Mom never did anything bad in their lives. I hope they can eat and dress well after they’re gone, too.

If there’s a heaven, I hoped Mom was there with a warm meal and Dad had a fresh shirt, not shivering in some in-between world. The thought squeezed at my chest, sharp as winter air.