You held his hand as he died, crying over his cooling corpse, and saw him laid to rest in the family crypt.

Yet he stands outside your window, his skin was as pale as the moon, his eyes bloodshot and crimson.

You clasp a hand over your mouth to suppress a scream. The man you loved has returned to you as a zombie.

He can’t enter a human home - not without an invitation. And you don’t intend to ask him to come in. But he raises both arms and stirs up a hurricane that shatters the windows and sucks out the glass.

A cyclone swirls around your body and picks you off your feet.

The zombie doesn’t need an invitation - not when he commands the winds. He carries you out of the house and into his deadly embrace.

“I rose from the dead to keep you safe,” he says in a voice as cold as winter. “I will protect you until the end of time.”