“Shit yeah, Franklin,” Bobby exclaimed.
“Money,” added Andy Jr.
The zombie teetered for a moment, and then finally dropped. They don’t go down like ragdolls, it takes a second for the body to realize the brain — and the virus controlling it — has been destroyed. The boys came up with this game within hours of this whole thing starting: you try to shoot them so they’ll stay up as long as possible, balanced on legs stiffened by rigor mortis.
“It’s all about timing,” Franklin explained. He once killed one who stayed up permanently, never fell. Or so he claims.