There were three zombies in the pit at dawn. Big Mike adjusted his baseball cap as he looked down at them. “Mornin’.”
They hissed and moaned in response. It was always the same. There was only one break in the wall: the opening for the driveway. Big Mike had dug the pit trap across it first thing. He checked it every morning. He would douse his catch with gasoline, light them, go have breakfast while they burned.
Soon he would have to dig the pit out again. It was starting to get shallower as it filled with bone and ash.
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