To get to Orchard Hills you first had to cross the harbor to a peninsula that stuck out into the water called Logan’s Reach. It’s the new, exclusive part of the city where all the shiny glass clad sky scrapers and high rises were. This place was the ultra posh, with luxury cars blitzing down the mega size streets, luxury stores on every corner, luxury people scurrying to their fancy high paying jobs, and bouncers at every door to keep people like me out.

Thankfully we only needed to stay long enough to hop on the tram that headed away from the waterfront and up into the hills behind Logan’s Reach. This time of day, there weren’t many people riding the tram, which was good. Orchard hills was no Logan’s Reach, but that didn’t mean they were lacking in the money department, or snobs department.

We got off at our stop, and it was far enough from Noah’s house that I got a good look at the place. Honestly I rarely came anywhere near Orchard Hills. It’s not like I was avoiding the neighborhood, my world and this place just never really overlapped.

The first thing I noticed was that there was sidewalks, like, every-where. I guess no one expected rich people to walk in the gutter. Lucky them. There were hanging flower baskets on every lamp post. Yeah, if they had that in my neighborhood, those baskets would totally get stolen like in the first night. We walked past a park and there was no sign of junkies hanging out under the trees. There wasn’t even trash collecting under the benches. How did they keep this place so clean? Seriously, where was all the graffiti?

To me, this didn’t look like a real neighborhood where people lived, it looked like a perfect movie set of a neighborhood.

It was kind of creepy.

“Holy shit! Look at the size of that fountain. It’s huge!”

I was tugging Noah’s sleeve to get his attention.

“I bet a hundred kids could swim in that thing!”

Seriously, why would someone put such a huge ass fountain in the middle of a park? What were they doing with that thing? Hmm, I wonder if there’s any coins in there?

“Oh, heh heh, yeah. You’re not allowed to swim in it though.”

Noah was scratching his head and softly laughing.

I was looking between Noah and the fountain. He didn’t look that impressed.

“Oh, really?”

Right. He grew up in this fancy pants place, so I guess he wouldn’t be.

We walked passed the park and on into the housing area. And by houses, I mean mansions. Every intersection we passed had a circular round-about with big, bushy trees planed in the middle. The cookie cutter mansions were set back, away from the road and were hiding behind huge iron gates, fountains, and hedges that reached higher than our heads.

Damn this place was fancy.

We finally stopped in front of a pale mud colored mansion with a driveway as wide as a freeway and a four car garage dominating the front of the house. There were three luxury cars parked out front.

Wait, if they park their cars out here, than what’s in the garages? Is that where rich people keep their boats?

Noah was walking up the driveway, so I guess this was his home.

We trudged up some cement stairs and around the garages to the front entrance and Noah was just about to open the door when I grabbed him.

“Uh wait. This is usually a shock to the family, so why don’t you let me talk to them a little first and you stay back for a moment?”

I tugged on Noah’s sleeve, and nudged him back around the corner.

Brushing my hair out of my face and dusting off my coat, and I readied myself for the big family meet.

I rung the door bell and waited. And waited. And waited.

I rang the bell again and leaned back to spot Noah around the corner.

“It’s Saturday, they’re here, right?”

Noah looked over his shoulder at the driveway.

“Yeah, their cars are here.”

I rang the bell again.

Finally the door swung open, and I was greeted with a cringe. The middle aged, short guy actually took a step back when he saw me, as if poor was contagious.

“Sorry, we only donate through the temple of Athenos.”

He was just about to slam the door in my face, when I stuffed my foot in the jam to stop him.

“Wait, wait, I’m not here for a donation. I’m here on police business. Do you know someone named Noah?”

I whipped out a business card from my coat pocket. I only use these cards when I wanted to look professional, they were kind of expensive. They looked really good, with embossed script and on nice heavy card stock too. The card read:

“Yukarina ‘Kari’ Volka

Necromancy Expert

Police Consultant”

And then my contact info and shit.

Really, I only used them for the first family visit. Like I said, they were expensive.

The older guy opened the door again, and let me retrieve my sore foot from the jam.

“Yes, Noah is my son. Is he in some kind of trouble?”

I went directly into my well rehearsed script that I had gotten from the police department.

“Uh, no sir. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Noah was found earlier today by the Mors Bay Police Department, in the Central district. I’m sorry to inform you that he’s passed away.”

It was around this moment when most families would look at me with teary eyes, and ask me questions in disbelief. They would start sobbing, and demanding that I say it wasn’t true. Honestly, I hated this part of the job, but by law I had to make it absolutely clear that their family member was no longer a member of the living, or I could get sued for misleading the family and “Nefarious Necromancy Manipulation”.

The weird thing was, this guy was doing none of that.

He just kind of stood there looking down at my card. His face was kind of blank, he looked more bored than upset.

“Hm, yes, Noah’s been missing for nearly a month now, I thought something might have happened to him.”

No, Noah’s been gone for three months, you just hadn’t noticed.

Again, his face didn’t look particularly upset about his Own Son Being Dead.

Seriously, what was wrong with this guy.

He finally looked up from the card, to stare at me with disinterested eyes.

“So, do we need to make arrangements for the remains?”

This guy was so laid back about his child no longer being alive, that I was kind of floundering here.

“U-uh, no sir. The Mors Bay Police did everything in their capacity to revive your son, including contacting the department’s necromancy consultant, me, Kari Volka (yes, I actually have to state my full name here). The department does understand that some families, due to religious beliefs or cultural traditions, are adverse to having a family member risen after death, but due to your son being an important witness in an on going investigation, the procedure was necessary. I managed to revive your son successfully, there were no complications during the spell casting, and he seems to be in stable condition and handling his transition very well. Would you like to talk with him?”

The guy just kept staring at me with that bored look on his face, like I was trying to sell him something and he’d heard the spiel a hundred times before.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

What, really? He doesn’t even want to say something to Noah?

“Are you sure? Perhaps you would at least like to have a moment to say good bye?”

The old guy puffed out a breath, clearly annoyed.

“I think I’ve already made my decision clear, Ms. Volka.”

He went to close the door on me again.

“Wait! He’s your son, don’t you want to at least see his face?!”

A strong hand grabbed my arm and tugged me to the side, away from the door. It was Noah, and he looked grim, but not surprised.

“Come on Kari. They didn’t care about me while I was alive, why would they care about me now that I’m dead?”

Noah looked through the still open door to his father. There didn’t seem to be any warmth between them at all. His dad was just as short and slim as Noah, with brown eyes the color of black tea, and dark brown hair that was turning gray around the edges. The only major difference between the two was the natural tan that his dad had compared to Noah’s snowy pale complexion. Noah must have nearly looked like a younger clone of his father before he’d been zombiefied. They had the same delicate face with high cheekbones and wide eyes, though his dad’s were narrowed and cynical, and his mouth looked like it was permanently set into a frown.

Noah tugged my arm some more.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I followed him down the steps and back onto the rich people sidewalk.