“It seemed like a good plan at the time,” Mark whispered.
Julia glared at him. “Shut. Up.” She went back to staring through the cracks in the wood door.
Bleats and squeals mixed with the pounding of hooves.
“I mean,” Mark continued, “I had no idea they were so big.”
Julia pointed her gun at him. “Be. Quiet.”
The sounds on the other side of the door grew louder. The wet smack of teeth in rending flesh. The screams of dying pigs. The zombie’s moans.
“Just” – Mark’s voice quaked – “maybe we should have hid in the brick shed.”