The pavement was covered with broken glass and charred zombie remains. Horace and Mr. Turnbaum walked carefully through the detritus, boots crunching, watching for twitching.
“Well, that worked,” Turnbaum said, sounding tired but pleased.
“We’ve gone through half the bottles already.”
“Look how many we killed!”
“Yeah.” Horace looked at the city skyline in the distance. “I can’t help thinking there’ll be more.”
“We’ve got plenty of pumps. Go tell Bobby to cut one out of its frame. And we’ll need enough hose to aim the stream.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not losing my business to a bunch of dead people.”
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