The young man leans his AR-15 against the side of the truck, and helps her step down from the passenger's seat: she is old, and slow-moving, and brittle-boned, and patient. "Where am I going?"
"Through there, Sister." He points, and then picks up his rifle. She pats him on the shoulder and makes her way, step by step, towards the grocery story entrance. Inside is a pile of corpses that until recently were zombies.
She will read them their last rites while the young women pack canned food into boxes; she has until the shooting starts to complete the task.
I guess even zombies need prayers sometimes. Gives new meaning to Dead Man Walking.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading.
DeleteLooks like you might have a story line running. Sweet, me too! :-) Nice read, I look forward to more!
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure what you mean by having a story line running, but thanks for reading and commenting. :-)
DeleteZombie goodness--excellent!
ReplyDeleteMy submission contains vampire badness.
Awesome, I will check it out :-)
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