Chapter 25

“I think I need a zombie break, sweetie,” said Dara as we turned a corner and came face to face with yet another teeming undead mass, another chorus of groans, another bouquet of zombie stench.

“I second that motion, hon.” I looked around for a solution and spotted an open door. “There.”

She shrugged. “Beats here, anyway.”

And so over and in we headed, shutting the door behind us. Thankfully, we were now alone, no zombies inside. The building was an apartment complex, not large, maybe a few stories, but it was on a corner, which, as it turned out, was its saving grace. The stairs, on the other hand, not so much. And as for those stairs, well now, they were simply a necessary evil—kind of like mayonnaise or, uh, Texas, at least back in the day. See, we needed to climb them once we retrieved the weather-beaten bullhorn from outside the front door.