Dear rabid fans: I mentioned this in my last chapter of Of Psychics and FBI Profilers, and here it comes. It should be epic. And yes, this is a shameless crossover between Criminal Minds and, yes, my own school. Also, if anyone is out of character just remember – this is the zombie apocalypse.

Criminal Minds is owned by CBS, and St. Mary's College of Maryland is owned by the State of Maryland.

Prologue: Oops?

"Reid. You know how you're going to start this off?"

Reid looked up at Morgan's desk. "I haven't even tried yet."

Morgan stared at his blank computer screen, the straight line of the Word cursor blinking tauntingly. "No one's ever going to believe this."

Reid glared at the cast on his arm. "I just can't believe I'm back on a desk."

Prentiss sighed. "Will you two stop? I'm trying to write this without making it sound like I'm a crack addict."

Morgan scratched the bandage covering a deep gouge on his shoulder and finally placed his hands back on the keyboard.

We received this case on Monday, September 7th as our first case for the morning from the St. Mary's County, MD sheriff's department . . .

#Fifteen Days Previously#

Dr. Hugh Perkin, head archaeologist of Historic St. Mary's City, cocked his head slightly as he dusted off a strange object in one of his units. The field school had ended a month previously, but he was still here to finish up his objectives for that year's dig. That was why he was alone on the site.

He brushed dirt away from the strange spherical object. This was the middle of Leonard Calvert's house. That meant there was no telling what it was – but it shouldn't be here, whatever it was. Once the round and pinkish-tinted glass sphere was unearthed, he set up his camera and took a few pictures of it in situ. Once that was done, he pried it out with his trowel. There was almost instantly a scream that seemed to echo all around him. As he leapt to his feet, a hand shot up out of the ground where the sphere had been.

Hugh didn't consider himself terrified of much. After all, as an archaeologist, you couldn't be afraid of germs, dirt, spiders, snakes, bugs, bones, rocks, glass, paper cuts, rulers, or any other strange variety of phobia invented for one or two people in history. But random hands and screaming were a completely different variety, which is why Hugh had never made it to his car that fast. As he looked back, he thought he saw something dart into the trees behind one of the other exhibits. Tentatively, holding his sharpened trowel protectively, he crept back to the site. It was empty, and only a roughly egg-shaped, long hole lay in the ground where the hand and the sphere had been.

Deciding that had been enough for the day, Hugh quickly closed up the site and left. It was probably just the result of too much alcohol the previous night.