“Are you crazy? Now they’ll all come!” Randolph watched the zombie drop, the top of its head newly missing.
“We’ll be long gone. Check his pockets.”
“Check his fuckin’ pockets, man, don’t you see his uniform?”
The zombie was wearing the uniform of a delivery man, specifically, one who worked for the local chain of grocery stores; and one of their trucks was only fifty yards back. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’. And be quick, if that truck’s outta gas we still need time to get in the trailer and take what we can carry. God, I hope there’s a dolly.”