“Brad.”
He was frantically stuffing clothes into a suitcase. “What? Marj, we have to go!”
“Brad. It’s the little neighbor girl.”
“Marjorie!”
“She’s just standing there. By the car.”
“Outside? Where are her parents?”
“I don’t see them.” Marjorie strained to see into the neighbor’s driveway without opening the curtains any more. “I don’t think they’re out there.”
Brad came over and took her place at the window. He stared for a time before saying, “I can’t tell if she’s a zombie.”
“Brad, of course she’s a zombie. It’s almost midnight. What’s she doing out there if she’s still alive?”
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