Bad Dog

by Ari Collins


“Shit!" Martin said. “Guard dog. We gotta get over the fence, man!” The moans of the shambling undead rounded the corner behind us.

I rummaged for a Slim Jim. “That’s just big stupid Zeebo.” The dog wore his usual dumb expression as the snack sailed by. “Goddamnit.”

Then Zeebo, tongue lolling out, began to moan.