“Here comes somebody now.”
They peered over the jersey barrier to see a pudgy man in a sweat-soaked shirt stumbling up the street. He looked behind him to make sure there were no zombies close by, and then stopped to rest, doubled over at the waist, back heaving.
“Jesus, is this asshole gonna throw up? Buy a fucking treadmill, why don’t you?” Perry spat the words in disgust.
“…Little late for that.”
“Fuck this guy.” Perry rose up and fired; the pudgy man fell.
“What the fuck, Perry?!”
“You want him slowing us down?”
“He might have been a doctor!”
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