I pass the corpse of the zombie I put down two months ago in the hallway. It’s face is puckered up in a rictus tighter than a cat’s anus. And it still stinks!
But that’s good–the smell has kept the others away from my hideaway. I hear them moving at night–groaning, shuffling, shambling. And all the croaking moos from the dead–yet moving–stockyard cows.
And I’ve gotta go out there…
Time to suit up.
I head down the hall to the former janitor’s closet. My “suits” are in there–clothes smothered in zombie gore. I’m not stupid–I’m not going out there “naked.”
Was it a fight to get those! But I’ve seen Silence of the Lambs, and know how Lecter escaped. I need a mask now.
Maybe I can get one on this trip.
I’m so hungry.
What’s that noise?