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Summary
The revenant runs through landslide hair with a thin wooden comb and tells Oliver, I died, do you know? Antimony travelled through my brain. Bullet alloy turned thoughts into blood, like tilling a field—turning up earthworms, fertile grey matter. And then in my final resting place I felt the change pass over me and when you shovelled me out, I sat up. But oh, I died. I ended, Banks. I started again. What do you say to that?
Or: With one apocalypse, one spade, and one open mind, you, too, can obtain a zombie husband.