By the time they get this far north they’re so slow, listless, blind and deaf that you can walk up and slap them in the face.
I don’t recommend it, though, their faces are pretty gross. The cold and the virus both slow down the decay, but they’re still made of dead flesh.
My grandfather came to Canada to get out of going to Vietnam. My father stayed because he liked hockey and good beer. Personally I like not having to worry about zombies. The mounties tell us we may have to move further north soon. I think they’re crazy.