Thank you for reading!

Major was sitting at his desk, rubbing his eyes, wishing for an extended vacation on a tropical island—preferably stranded and alone—when Justin came into his office.

"Bad news."

"Is there any other kind?"

"This is worse than normal."

Major sighed. "It always is. What's up?"

"We're almost out of brains, and shipments have all but dried up."

"Blaine's current run of bad luck." Major groaned, leaning his head back. Blaine was in jail for all his past crimes, a turn of events Major would have liked to have applauded. Sadly, he didn't have that luxury, because without Blaine there were no brains.

"Yeah. I think someone's going to have to go talk to him."

"Can I send Liv?" She was fresh off the brains of a boxer—Major would have loved to see her go after Blaine with a few of the moves she had stored in her head right now. "Yeah, I know," he said, having forgotten that Justin was easy-going about everything except for having Liv's name mentioned in front of him. He got up from behind the desk. "I'm going."

There was an annoyingly long wait for the head of Fillmore Graves to interview an incarcerated prisoner. Once Major was finally sitting on the other side of the glass from Blaine, he was in no mood to baby the jerk along.

"Here's the situation," he said, plunging right into his problem and hoping to avoid being dragged into Blaine's. "Shipments of brains into Seattle have stopped. We have supplies for three days. I need you to tell me the details of your operation so we can get the brains moving again."

"You make these charges disappear and get me out of here, and I'll have brain operations back up in a day."

It was more or less exactly what Major had expected Blaine to say, and to promise, and he really didn't think he believed a word of it.

"Because I can't take it," Blaine went on. "The rec room TV is just repeating the edited-for-television version of Snakes on a Plane."

Did this jackass actually think Major cared about his boredom? Or anything else about him? "You're toxic," he said. "If I let you out, people will riot in the streets."

Blaine laughed, as if he was proud of it. Probably he was. "Well, I guess we're all screwed, monkey fighter." When Major frowned, not understanding the reference, Blaine cried, "You see? Samuel L. Jackson just doesn't work edited for TV!" He put the receiver down, mugging at Major. He knew who held the cards right now, and it wasn't the head of Fillmore Graves—or the starving zombie population of Seattle.

God, Major hated this guy. He wanted to kill him. Briefly, he pictured putting Blaine under the guillotine and watching his head get smashed. But that didn't get him any more brains. The only thing that would was somehow finding a way to get Blaine's brains out from behind bars.

Galling. Absolutely galling.

However, Blaine wasn't the only possibility. There were options.

Hobbs accompanied him from the jail and Blaine, to the Scratching Post and Don E. On the one hand, Don E didn't have half Blaine's brains—not in any sense of the term—but on the other hand, Major didn't itch to murder him every time he opened his mouth. So that was some improvement, anyway.

Sitting across the desk from Don E was still pretty maddening, though, especially as he tried to play stupid games. He was digging his finger in his ear, seeming to have focused all his mental capacity on the job. "Like, I don't know what you're talking about. I just work here."

Did Don E really think Major had forgotten everything he knew about their operation? "You're Blaine's right-hand man. I have a hard time believing you don't know how the system works." He could easily believe Blaine might have tried to keep Don E from knowing … but Don E had an eye out for number one at all times. He knew.

"I just do what he says. It's brains Blaine's, man." He frowned. "Or … you know what I mean. Look, I'd love to help. But …"

Major got to his feet. "Okay, look. I'm going to leave this contract for you. Same deal we had with Blaine. It's a good deal." He was counting on Don E's essential greed to override whatever loyalty he might feel to Blaine. "And a chance to step up. Be a hero."

"Well, I have to ask Blaine because it's Blaine's …"

He trailed off, frowning over Major's shoulder, and Major finished, "Brains? Yeah. Got it."

Someone else had joined the conversation suddenly, however. A big tattooed guy Major didn't think he'd seen before. And then, behind him, the small dapper figure of Stacey Boss. "Gentlemen," he said, as if he suddenly owned the place. "Let's make a deal."

Well. This changed the face of things a bit. Stacey Boss was as unrestrained a killer as Blaine was, granted, but he didn't like to kill if there were less messy and drastic solutions—and he was a businessman, not subject to Blaine's streaks of erratic brilliance.

"Stacey Boss," Major said. "Thought you were dead."

Boss laughed. "I was close. You have no idea how hot a Bangladeshi summer is in a three-piece suit."

"You've been hiding in Bangladesh?" Hobbs asked.

"Hiding?" Boss shook his head. "Working. Bangladesh, Sudan, Ukraine … Anywhere there's brains, I've been. That—that's how it works. I procure, Don E distributes. Blaine does jack."

Major looked at Don E for confirmation, which he didn't get.

But Boss wasn't interested in Don E's opinion. "I'd be willing to solve your little problem right here and now. We cut Blaine out; Don E and I handle the brains ourselves. Everybody's happy—except Blaine."

"The catch being?" Because there always was one.

"A slight cost adjustment. Say, double what you're paying Blaine?"

They always asked for more than was available. "We don't have the budget. I can't agree to that."

"I get it. Budgets are stubborn things. But let me just say this: When zombies start tearing humans limb from limb, my price is not likely to have come down."

Major nodded. "Taken under advisement." After all, if Seattle fell, Boss's brain business would be dead before it began. He only had a product if Major had customers.

With Hobbs behind him, he exited. Some progress had been made. All in all, he'd rather be playing hardball with Stacey Boss than begging for cooperation from Blaine DeBeers.