Marlow just wanted to live out her life in a state of juvenile rebelliousness; she didn't want to be anyone's problem and she didn't want anyone to bother her. That was her creed. That is until she died for the stupidest reason ever, falling down on her head. Now she has to deal with a voice in her head and an undead outlook on everything. Well, so much for a problemless life. They can kiss her in hell ... Marlow shrugged nonchalantly. "I label myself Zombie." She gestured to the spot on her chest that a nametag would occupy. "It's worse than that."