He heard the music as soon as he stepped through the doors to his home, his dog jumping up against his leg. Mind still foggy from the booze, he kicked off his boots and scratched the dog behind the ears. He couldn't get the image out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he drank – and he was sure if he were human he'd probably be on his way out – the image remained burned in his memory. He followed the dog through to the lounge where he leapt to his favourite spot in the chair. He walked past straight to the bar, not looking to the source of the music. His finger caressed the open bottle of scotch, he contemplated another drink as his fist closed around the neck of the bottle.

"Sure that's wise?" The voice called from the piano, the playing continued. Chase's eyes closed and he sighed. "Figured you wouldn't be yourself after today."

"I just want to forget today," he groaned, his unused voice like gravel. Blaine brought the music to a close as Chase approached with the bottle and two tumblers. Chase straddled the stool sideways, his mind wandered to the evenings when he'd sat in this very spot while Blaine played the instrument.

"How much have you had?" Blaine murmured softly.

"You know that cabinet, in my office, that was half full after our last late night at work? Not half full anymore." Chase was beginning to slur his words. Sighing, Blaine squeezed Chase's knee.

"Let's get you to bed," Blaine smiled sadly and moved off the bench. Pushing the glasses and bottle safely on the piano he pulled Chase to his feet, taking him to bed.

"I did a bad thing, I killed a sweet old lady."

"Well that might be a stretch," Blaine muttered remembering the beating he'd received once upon a time.

"It was rude of me," Chase continued to mumble into Blaine's side as they climbed the stairs. They reached Chase's bedroom. Blaine sat him on the edge of the bed and began to undress him, starting with his beret and vest. Chase slapped his hands away and stripped his own shirt, balancing long enough to strip his pants he sat back in his boxers before leaning forward, elbows on his knees, fingers in his hair. "Stay here tonight?"

"It's cute that you think I'm going out past curfew with your boys out there." Blaine said stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning in the door frame.

"No, I mean with me, not in the guest room," Chase looked up at Blaine, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Blaine sighed, he'd promised himself when this had begun it was strictly business. A promise that quickly was shattered into a million pieces. He asked Chase what they were and it had taken him a few days to come up with an answer. He wasn't sure. He liked what they had. And he wanted more. He'd told this to Blaine and they had agreed to take each day as it came, but if they decided to end it, then there would be no hard feelings. "Get into bed Chase," Blaine sighed unbuttoning his shirt. He slipped into the other side of the queen-sized bed. Laying on his side, his eyes met Chase's. Chase was unlikely to remember much in the morning, so he indulged himself and caressed the drunk zombie's cheek. Chase turned his cheek into the hand.

Chase woke several times through the night. At first it was just the alcohol and the feeling of being unable to properly sleep. Then came the nightmares. The moment the anvil dropped replaying over and over in his mind. He woke for good at 5:40 am, after a measly 2 hours and around 47 minutes of sleep. His head felt like it may explode, he thought the days of hangovers were behind him, as it turned out, being a Zombie couldn't solve all of life's problems. Blaine started the shower for him before wandering off to the kitchen in hunt of some breakfast.

Stepping into the hot spray Chase groaned. He washed his hair in a sluggish manner, stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth. It unnerved him how normal his behaviours were, but he had to get on with his life. He dressed in his uniform and went in search of Blaine. When he arrived in the kitchen Blaine was stroking his dog having just put his food down. The other Zombie stood as Chase arrived and pushed a plate over the island. "Fresh brain tubes, mixed with scrambled eggs, on toast." He said.

"Thank you," Chase said quietly and tucked into his meal. He rarely ate much other than the tubes. They were convenient for his lifestyle. However, he too was starting to feel the side effects of the rationing. The passed-out bus driver was the first of what he anticipated to be many incidents involving innocent Zombies signing their own death warrants in the eyes of humans. "Major and your boy Don-E secured the girl, she's now a zombie, due to, unforeseen circumstances. With her here I doubt her father will want to level Seattle."

"Well you just better hope her rich and powerful father gives a damn about her. At least, more than mine did about me."

"Wha'd'you mean?" Chase asked as Blaine pushed a mug of coffee his way.

"When I was 12, rival company from overseas took me from boarding school to try and convince my dad to give up a huge deal. He was gonna let them keep me. I mean I warned them, but they still wanted to send a finger or a toe. Thankfully my grandfather found the tape on my dad's computer, offered them a hefty ransom in exchange for my safe return. If it were up to my dad he'd have let them keep sending me piece by piece home. It's no secret he hates me. Never was. So, you'd better hope this man loves his daughter, or we can kiss New Seattle goodbye." Chase mulled the story over in his sleep-deprived mind.

"Well, let's hope he does."

Blaine left shortly after breakfast, leaving Chase alone with his thoughts. He had to find a way to improve Fillmore-Graves image. He knew where to start, the leak in his supplies. He knew that if he could find where brain tubes were going missing he could relieve some tension in New Seattle. The way he saw it, the board were his biggest obstacles. Hell, they were the reason they were in the middle of this shit-show as it was. They wanted 'good optics'? When he was finished they wouldn't know what hit 'em.

Chase called the office and told them he'd be in later in the day. He didn't specify a reason. He worked on his laptop through the morning, researching, setting out his plans. Even texting Blaine to assure him his business was safe under his new plans. There were other zombies he needed on board before he could set his plans in motion. Olivia Moore for one. The woman had a way of getting in the way, he needed her on side, he needed as little opposition as possible.

He decided to tackle her first, making his first stop the morgue. "What do you want?" She asked before he had even laid eyes on her. She was in the kitchen area, probably eating fresh brains. Chase missed fresh brains but he couldn't let his mind be invaded. He needed to keep focused on his mission.

"Look, I'm not here to fight, I'm already running late," as he spoke Liv caught sight of his red-rimmed eyes. "I'm making changes at Fillmore-Greaves and I can't have you interfering."

"Interfering?"

"Yes, Ms Moore." He snapped. "I have a leak in the brain supplies, there are zombies going hungry and I need to find out why. If you interfere I could lose the trail. Promise me you aren't going to interfere with this."

"I won't. I promise." Chase nodded and left.

"Make sure," he called back.

Two men watched their post. A house in one of New Seattle's rougher neighbourhoods. It was a nice house and would have looked out of place if not for the graffiti. It was quiet, neither had seen movement, but they were sure they kept the scum in the basement. One of the men prepared the bottles, the other flicked his lighter repeatedly. "We doin' this or what?" The one preparing the bottles asked. His friend flicked the lighter and left the flame lit. He didn't speak. He held the flame out for his friend to ignite the cloth hanging from the open top. "On three." The countdown began. "One… Two… Three" They threw the bottles. They shattered on contact, igniting the house; previously doused with flammable liquid. The boys stayed for minutes, watching their target burn. At the sound of sirens, they fled.

When Chase arrived at Fillmore-Graves that afternoon the reception was abuzz with energy. None of which felt positive. His PA pulled him in the direction of the nearest meeting room as soon as she clapped eyes on him. Through the glass he caught sight of around 30 small children with white hair. His PA pulled him to one side. "Dead Enders torched their house. Thankfully they were out on a field trip."

"Their house? As in they all lived in one house?" She nodded. "Who's running the show?"

"Miss Caitlyn Maddison, former elementary school teacher now guardian to 30 small zombies."

"How on Earth did we let that happen?"

"Must've got lost in the chaos after Z-day."

"I wanna talk to Miss Maddison, find out how we let this go on for so long. Call this number, tell them Chase Graves is asking for them personally." He scribbled a number on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. "That her?" He nodded to the adult talking with the children. She nodded and Chase approached the woman. He had to think of his feet, he quickly figured he could adapt his plans for improving the company's image. "Miss Maddison? Chase Graves, I'd like to talk to you, see if we can find out a little more about what happened." She nodded and excused herself from the children she was reading with. Caitlyn followed Chase through to a separate room with two chairs opposite one another, "please, can I get you coffee or water?"

"No, thank you, Mr Graves, I don't know how much help I'm going to be, we saw the blaze when we returned from our trip to get our brain tubes."

"I don't need to talk about the fire. I want to know what lead to you housing around 30 small children in your home."

"Oh," she said looking down at the table, "it started with the allusion flu vaccines. We went as a school to the centre. My class went first, well first me, then my TA then the kids. Then the news broke, about everyone turning into zombies. The children were terrified. We got back to the classroom and we were locked in, while the office called their parents. Come pick-up, I watched at the window, but no parents came to my classroom door to collect. When the janitor locked up I took them home, I tried calling parents myself but nobody would pick up. I was fired and told the kids couldn't return as they were a danger to other students. I've been teaching them myself, turned my basement into a classroom. The graffiti happened about a week ago. I knew that with so many we'd be a target but never thought they'd torch the house. I tried contacting Fillmore-Graves and they said they'd send someone but nobody turned up. In the end I gave up."

Chase listened to the story intently. When she stopped, he leaned forward. "I'm going to set you up with an apartment, in one of our protected blocks. And I'm going to give you a classroom, here, at Fillmore-Graves. We'll find foster families for the children, I'm sure a lot of my employees will be willing to look after them. We'll provide anything you need for teaching. I have two trusted medics on the way, as the team here are all in field training, they're going to give all the children check-ups. I'm no expert but I can tell that most of those children look under-fed, which I know isn't your fault. We're in the middle of an investigation into the shortages. I will see to it personally that these children are looked after and looked after well."

"Thank you, what do you need?"

"For now, I need a list of names and for the kids to make profiles of themselves. They know how to use iPads?"

"They love using iPads."

"I'll have tech install an app, they can write a profile about themselves for people who take them in." Chase's phone buzzed, "that would be the medics," he stood and opened the door, "after you."

Liv and Ravi pulled up at Fillmore-Graves and got medical bags out of the back of the van. "What exactly did the woman on the phone say?" Liv asked as they headed inside.

"Just that Chase asked for us personally and it was in the interests of everyone involved we get here quick," Ravi replied with a shrug as he lead the way.

"Miss Moore, Dr Chakrabarti, this way please." Chase Grave greeted them, turned and gestured for them to follow. "Earlier today Dead Enders torched a house. The occupants were not present; however, the occupants are, or rather were, an elementary school teacher and her 30 pupils."

"30 children?" Ravi asked. Chase nodded to a room with a large glass wall. Behind said wall were 30 small children working on iPads.

"They all need checking over before they can be fostered, I can explain more later, you can use that meeting room for the check-ups. Here's a class list I got from their teacher, I suggest you start, she's a little overwhelmed and I think the sooner she knows they're OK the better."

Chase returned to his office and used an iPad there to read through the profiles the children were building of themselves, ignoring the in-pile on his desk. His morning of planning had been wasted, but at least he had a back-up, should this not work. He put out a company-wide alert that the children needed homes. If people did not come forward and volunteer he would assign children to those he knew could house them, whether they liked it or not. If they refused when they were capable he they would lose their positions. He meant this mainly for the board, but he couldn't say that directly. Finally, he called Blaine, asking him to come in. Blaine was used to being summoned, though usually it led to Chase being bent over his own desk. This time however, that would not be the case.