He’d spent most of the morning laying wires and setting charges. No interruptions yet, but they’d be coming. Behind him, uphill in the old resort, were a couple hundred of the last living souls in Colorado. That many people, doesn’t matter how high up you are: the zombies will smell them.
It felt weird not to sound some sort of siren first, but he didn’t have one: he didn’t even have a bullhorn. Instead, he bellowed, “hey! hey! look out below!”
When the echoes had faded away, he pushed down the plunger and the access road fell into the ravine.
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