I awoke in the morning with a metallic taste in my mouth. Bitter and strong. With a lingering aftertaste. It’s the taste of copper. I don’t have to ask what it is. I’d tasted it, once before. It’s the taste of resurrection. Now, there are only three categories that matter when it comes to people in the world. The Dead. The living–i.e., those who will be Dead when they die. And, those like me, The Undead.
— Thomas Allen Mars, Dead Moon Rising