The walking dead were everywhere, even here in the Village where private security had once been the bane of loiterers and skateboarders and the wrong element in general. Their not-quite-police cars would come creeping around every half hour just to make sure the property values stayed high and the undesirables stayed off the grass.
Now there was a partially eaten gardener laying across her azaleas, and that Janice Ney woman waved at her from behind her immaculate bay windows across the street. they were almost close enough to shout across to each other, but of course neither would risk it.
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