A human hand reached out of a nearby bush and grabbed Jeremy’s wrist firmly.
Jeremy turned his eyes, squinting coldly and pointing the flare gun directly at the head of the grabber.
Dr. Romero panicked when the flare gun pressed against his face.
“Don’t shoot,” Romero begged.
Jeremy looked at him, cold and annoyed.
“Why didn’t you run to the beach?” Jeremy asked.
“I...I have important research in my house that I cannot leave!” he stammered.
There seemed to be a lull in the zombies. So Jeremy tucked the flare gun in his waist band. Schmidt hovered nearby with his shovel ready.
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