Kenneth Angielczyk almost dropped his pen when his office door slammed shut behind Lance. Lance, usually a deliberate soul who treasured his role as mentor to the museum's curators, looked at Ken with wild eyes. "The dead are coming to life."

A corner of Ken's mouth quirked up under his rakish mustache. "That's a convincing acting job, my dude, but you're too late for April Fool's and too early for Halloween. What is this, practice for a play?"

Lance ran a hand down his trimmed grey beard and jumped as another door slammed elsewhere in the building. "I... No. Check the news." He tossed his phone onto Ken's desk. That, more than anything else, convinced Ken of Lance's earnesty. He was never so cavalier with his tools. Ken picked it up and looked at dozens of reports of ghosts manifesting around their corpses and disturbing the living. "But... What's doing this?"

Lance fell into a chair. "We don't know. No one knows." Another door slammed. "But it's happening everywhere."

Kenneth blinked. "Everywhere?" He looked in the direction of the museum's paleontology hall, where the slams came from. Where a general ruckus was getting louder. "Then we should run," he said.