They followed him through the light industrial area, between warehouses and eight-foot fences and parked semi trailers: a line of terrified people with an armed man at its vanguard.
They were to scared to think about why he kept a shotgun and a school backpack full of ammunition in his car, or wonder if he brought them every day. He couldn’t have had foreknowledge of the coming zombie apocalypse. He wasn’t even into zombie movies.
They were just grateful to have him there, because otherwise they’d already be dead. And that’s really what he had wanted in the first place.
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