She was strapped to a chair, staring with dead eyes at the television set, along with ten other zombies. I wondered if that was the cruelest punishment of all, having to stare at the idiot box day in and day out. Her hair was silky, like a baby's. Her mouth had a tiny grin frozen on it. It gave her pitted cheeks dimples, as if she were a middle-aged Cabbage Patch doll.

"Hi, Mom," I said. The demented gnome in the chair next to her chirped, "Help me, help me," over and over, her jaw ...