[It had been a fantasy, nay, a dream that he had sought after. Yes, literally sought after. Scott loved zombies. They were, in his mind, the ultimate monster. They lacked the humanistic draw of vampires, the turmoil that came with the Wolf-man. Zombies were not quite human, but still very much like him or any one else he knew. Any one could become
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Scott! Scott, I barricaded the doors to the coffee shop, but there's a window, and I think they know I'm in here, and I don't know how to kill a zombie because I've never seen one before except in some movies and I'd really like if they just would go away and--
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"Lukas! You still there?! I'LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE! JUST HANG ON, OKAY?! WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T LET THEM NEAR YOU! HIT THEM IN THE HEAD WITH SOME THING BLUNT IF THEY GET TOO CLOSE, OKAY?!"
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In the most collected voice he can muster, Scott presses on.]
"Lukas, buddy. Did.. Did they bite or scratch you? Did any of them get in contact with you? You gotta' be one-hundred percent honest with me, okay?!"
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