“Look dad, I know it’s about midnight. But this is an emergency, so if you’re listening to this please pick up anyway.” Tim swallowed and waited, chewing at his bottom lip. He knew he could wait long. “Of course you’re sleeping right through this. Great. Okay, I’ll try to keep this short and sweet. Saltdale looks to be the centre for a zombie apocalypse and we could use an actual necromancer to stop it before it actually gets out of ground.”

He let silence fall again, wishing that his father was awake enough to hear the message and perhaps about to stumble over to the phone and start responding. One could dream, right?

“Well, shoot. Um, if you’re getting this message much later, I wouldn’t worry too much. I guess I have an idea what to do. And before you get excited, I don’t mean as a necromancer. The fact this is hereditary is bullshit. None of your lessons stuck, we both know that, and I won’t pretend, make it worse. I can still solve this, because there’s only one other necromancer here in Saltdale. And he’s heads over heels for Irish still. So I’m gonna get her.”

Tim ran a hand over his shorn head, stopping himself from doing further damage to his lip. “So I’ll talk to you later, I guess. Night dad.”