There I was, in the middle of a dead city, crouched behind a rotting wooden door, with a few hundred wandering corpses in shouting distance. I was fresh out of ammo, just the handle of a frying pan clutched in my palm.
But the guy next to me was still packing his shotgun, and that skinny girl we picked up was hefting a pipe bomb while running her thumb down the edge of a machete. A little ways away, creeping along the shadow of a rusting car toward a pile of loose bullets near the riot barricade was the shifty-looking fella in the wrinkled suit.
He didn't make it to the shells before ten sets of eyes were on him. The horde picked up his scent, started baying to alert their lifeless brothers: It was feeding time. (more…)