Something coming back from the dead was almost always bad news. Movies taught me that. For every one Jesus you get a million zombies.

Then he said in his most excellent Mick impression, "Your powers are useless against Ninja Lords, O great zombie hunter! Surrender or feel the sting of the shuriken!

I said to him, "State your business, mortal!" There was no need for me to call him "mortal" or to speak like a sixteenth-century knight. It just sounded cool.

I saw thousands of them. A sea of the dead that roared like an ocean! You would have heard them screaming toward you. It would have taken days to steer them away. Killing them? I don't think killing them would have been possible.

Again he shook his head. The world's gone mad, he thought. The dead walk about and I think nothing of it. The return of corpses has become trivial in import. How quickly one accepts the incredible if only one sees it enough!

Mimicque—zombies—can only be killed with an iron or obsidian blade, so don't think you can just act like the wrestler El Santo in the 1970s film El Santo Versus the Mummies of Guanajuato. If a walking undead is after you, run. Let the experts take care of the zombies.