The Zombie Apocalypse
The dead man lay on his back on the gravel. He was naked, a fact that Deputy Jeter tried to overlook because this was a particularly attractive dead man. All in all a wonderful specimen of manhood, if one could ignore his lack of it. And the fist-sized hole in his forehead. His roommate, much thinner, lay a few feet away, also on his back, also naked. The hole in his forehead was much larger, in the sense that nearly the entire top of his skull had been ripped open. Jeter squatted, squinting. He tried to think of the man as a thing, for that’s all he was now, an empty vessel, a shattered gum ball machine. The only light in the basement was a single naked bulb swinging on a stringy cord from the ceiling, so he pulled a penlight from his coat and shined it into the rag
