1 Work by RamCola
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Summary
Tom spun, gun snapping up on instinct.
The thing at the end of the alley was tall with broad shoulders. Wrapped in a ratty blue coat so stiff with old blood it looked black in places. One leg lagged behind the other, knee locking and unlocking in a way that screams wrong, boot leaving a crooked path through the snow as it stumbled forward. Its head lolled slightly, jaw hanging loose like it had forgotten how to close.
A zombie.
