The last things I remember with any clarity are Jack’s and my hastily laid plan to escape the water tower. Kind of had to like the guy, he ‘winged’ things about as much as I did. We were on that infernal ladder heading down towards a multitude of gnashing mouths. I thankfully swung Trip’s nasty pre-Reagan era underwear as far away from me as was humanly possible. It was just bad luck there was a prevailing wind that let me get one final intake of his crotch area. My last few cognizant thoughts, and one of them was going to be this? How bad must I have been in a former life that this was partial payment? The underwear arced out and then plummeted to the ground where I swear (maybe not on a stack of bibles) that I heard them splash wetly down onto dry ground. Let that visual sink in for a couple of seconds. Zombies and Jack’s night runners were heading straight for it like the heavily-stained cotton cloth was a human buffet and not the accumulated dingle-berries of a burn out.
What do You think about A Shrouded World - Whistlers?
