“Wait for the signal.”
His had was resting on the controller — a repurposed theater lighting controller — but his finger was nowhere near the important button, which had been repainted in red nail polish.
The zombies shuffled and lurched their way through the field towards them, past where he could see the sun reflecting off of the propane tanks. Above them on the roof of the 18-wheeler, Ed stood with binoculars. “At least it ain’t raining.”
“Shit, yeah. I’m still wet from last time.”
Ed took the binoculars away from his eyes. “Hit it!”
“This is gonna be loud.”