"I think you really ought to stop," Jeff told Gunther, conversationally. He was remaining at a respectful distance as to make sure he wouldn't get brained by the chef. It was likely
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"Did you know," she asked him, wide-eyed as she approached the desk and put the usual bag on top of it, "that there are zombies out there? I think they were trying to get your sandwiches."
"No," Turtle shook her head. "I doubt a sandwich would do much good. I did kick a few in the shins, though. I think I might have zombie bits stuck to the toe of my sneaker, but I so don't want to look and find out."
"Jeff!"
Her usual greeting just might have been laced with panic as she closed the door very firmly behind her.
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Yes, Turtle. They wanted the sandwiches...
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His eyes flicked down to the calendar. Wait...
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