Evie reached the door, just before it was torn off its hinges by the putrid hordes of undead on the other side. She brought the bottle down in an arc, burying it deep within the skull of the nearest zombie. The invasion halted, all zombies turning to look at Evie with disdain.
“Ow! Hey! What the hell was that for?” the zombie spoke.
Evie’s look of shock drifted to a look of slight annoyance. “You can speak? I thought you guys were dead?”
The zombie gave her a tired look, laced with as much sarcasm as his decomposing face could muster. “I could say the same.”
Chris stepped out from behind the bar. “I thought I said to keep things civil in here? Look, mister zombie, I don’t know who you think you are, busting in my door like that, but I expect a reasonable explanation for all of this. Why are you here?”
The zombie paused a moment, looked around the room, taking in all the guns, pitchforks, and bottles the vampires held. He let out an audible sigh, then replied as he dove at Evie: