It was skin and bones, mostly bones, with fresh blood smeared across its face and dripping from its mangled mouth. It pulled itself along with one hand, ripping out clumps of grass each time, glancing up at him between exertions to get its bearings.
“Fuck you, man,” Pete exclaimed, the fence behind him, as he fumbled in his pockets looking for ammunition he didn’t have. He didn’t understand how he’d allowed himself to be backed into this corner. It was almost like he had always been here, that he’d been born with this zombie already advancing on him. “Fuck you.”