Page 52 of Real Fake Hauntings

“Can you zombify me in five minutes?” I asked eagerly.

The woman grabbed a pot of green. “Sure thing, hon.”

A bit over five minutes later, I was joining the eager group of zombies, cartoon characters, and superheroes and heroines at the start line. Elbowing my way among the excited kids felt kind of rude, so I bided my time and used the wait to send Ian a photo of my makeup. This was a walk, after all, not a sprint!

Ian answered with a laughing emoji and two thumbs up. A photo of Fluffy sleeping sprawled on Rufus’s huge bed while he looked very put upon followed.

Ah, but Ian Cavalier got me at a soul-deep level.

It was…scary.

“Ready?” the bullhorn voice asked, saving me from having to dissect that reaction.

A loud chorus of yes! filled the air, and I’m not ashamed to admit mine was one of them. The excitement from the crowd was contagious.

“Go!”

The crowd surged forward, little kids running ahead, laughing and giggling to get in front of each other and the adults before adopting exaggerated zombie-style walks.

I extended my arms forward and walked forward with stiff movements. The woman in the tent had wrapped some mummy bandages to my wrists and arms, so I might as well play the part.

Adults and teens gleefully recording on their phones walked along with us, offering encouragement. I allowed a mini Zombie Spiderman to pass me, then shuffled diagonally on the dirt path until I caught up to April.

She was in full zombie costume with green skin, sunken eyes, and specks of blood around her mouth. I was a little disappointed the woman in the tent hadn’t done those for me, but I supposed parents wouldn’t be happy if she painted blood on their children.

“April?” I asked in a surprised voice once I grew near. “I didn’t know you participated in these!”

And no, lying for the greater good wasn’t bad karma.

April frowned at me in concentration, then a moment later her expression cleared. “You’re the witch.”

“Hope Avery.”

“I remember you,” she said with a smile. Her walk consisted of a curved back, hunched shoulders, loose arms by her side, and dragging one foot behind the other. Ten out of ten, very convincing.

“You do these a lot?” I asked.

“Every year,” she said, all brightness. “I love it.”

I made a show of looking around me. “Mr. Crane doesn’t partake, I assume?” My arms were starting to hurt, and I envied April’s walk. Next year I was definitely doing decaying zombie rather than fifties movie mummy.

April laughed. “Oh, no. He’d hate it here.”

I laughed along with her. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with him, but I keep getting directed to voicemail.”

“Are you calling the office?”

A kid jumped in front of us and hit us with a foam blade.

“Bam! Bam! You’re dead!”

I widened my eyes theatrically and loomed over her. “Mummies never dieee.”

The kid squealed with joy and ran to another zombie.

April chuckled. “You’re good at this.”

“You know what they say: children are always fun to play with as long as they’re not yours. You have kids?”

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