CherryPop Can't Save Them All

The last zombie rally didn’t start off bad. I showed up near city hall at dusk to set up. That would have been around 7pm, when the weekly council meetings start.

Liam helped me haul the signs out of the beat-up pick-up I always drive to these things. People began showing up in small groups and I handed out pamphlets, answered questions, stood for the odd picture – I’m sort of well-known I guess, at least among the zombie-friendly. Liam patiently let anyone who was curious touch him. It used to bother him but he decided his reluctance was a small price to pay if he helped even one person stop being squeamish.

The rally got underway and we chanted outside the council’s window and waved our signs. All was well until a scream shattered the calm crowd.

A woman at the back was grabbed and dragged towards a horde of waiting stupid zombies – the ones who will eat your brains. They descended on her like starving dogs and she was a pile of torn, ragged flesh by the time anyone could react. Before I could react.

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