Scapegrace got off the gurney and approached the tank. It was surreal, seeing his old self like this. The body was rotten and burnt, though not as rotten and burnt as he’d remembered. In fact, it wasn’t looking half bad, all things considered. His eyes refocused on his reflection in the glass. Within the tank, Scapegrace was dead and decrepit and decomposing. Outside the tank, he was tall and strong and beautiful. But as he looked from his new face to his old one, he realised that the old one was home, and it always would be.

“So these are Lewis Holmes, are they?”

They turned. Doctor Synecdoche came forward, sighing. “Clarabelle, for the last time, this is a restricted area. That means unauthorised people cannot just wander in. We have a lot of sensitive projects being researched and we have to be strict about this. I’ve told you before about this kind of thing.”

“But these are my friends,” said Clarabelle, blushing. “They miss their old bodies.”

“That’s not the point, it’s just …” Synecdoche shook her head. “Oh, Clarabelle, what am I going to do with you?”

Clarabelle hung her head.

Scapegrace stepped up, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t blame her. We found out about this and forced her to take us here. It’s time you answered a few of our questions, Doctor. What are you doing with our bodies? Nye told us that once our brains were taken out of them, they’d be destroyed. Burned.”

Synecdoche nodded. “That was the plan, but then one of the other doctors requested that they be kept intact to study the effects certain procedures have on necrotic tissue.”

Scapegrace jabbed his finger at her. “So that’s your dark little secret!”

“I’m sorry?”

“The secret you’ve been keeping! The conspiracy!”

She looked genuinely puzzled. “Uh, there is no conspiracy, and it’s not a dark little secret. You should probably have been informed that your old bodies were still intact, but apart from that administrative oversight, everything that has occurred here has been above board.”

“Oh.”

Thrasher peered more closely at the glass. “They don’t seem as rotten as they were.”

“They’re not,” said Synecdoche, turning away from Scapegrace. “We’ve actually been able to reverse a lot of the damage done by simple day-to-day wear and tear. It’s been hugely beneficial to work on such a fine pair of zombie specimens as these. Usually this sort of research is conducted on slabs of meat. The work we’re doing here could have far-reaching benefits across a whole array of medical and scientific areas.”

Thrasher raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” said Synecdoche. “You two should be proud of yourselves. You’re going to make a real difference in the world.”

Thrasher looked back at Scapegrace. “Do you hear that, Master? We’re going to make a difference.”