45

It is a beautiful summer day outside the Cathedral, and as you join Uncle Lou in the parking lot, you are amazed at the brightness of the sunlight without the accompanying heat or humidity. Perfect beach weather.

Your dreams of swimming in salt water and sun bathing are quickly removed as a trio of zombies hobble along the road leading out of the Cathedral, all dressed in tattered military uniforms, their skin gray and blotchy from lack of food and days in the sun. One of them is well-decorated with pins and stripes, which you envision is the leader of the pair. Even their walking pattern—a loose triangle with the decorated soldier in front—denotes their rank.

"More and more of them everyday. I figured we could make a game of it. Twenty points a kill. Whadya think?" Uncle Lou says, wrapping his rifle strap around his left arm and propping it on a low tree stump.