A Shrouded World - Whistlers
“One of the men looked pale, as if he could throw up at any moment. The thought of being covered in vomit almost made him begin climbing down to take his chances with those below. The other man was a heavily-bearded fellow wearing a shit-eating grin, and looked like he enjoyed the Sixties a little too much.
He had no idea what to make of the two as he continued upward. They had saved him, but what exactly was he climbing into? That really didn’t matter at the moment. The reek and moans of the zombies below didn’t provide for too many options. Although, he hoped the one man could hold onto his lunch until he was off the ladder. As he approached the top, one of the men pulled back out of view. Jack didn’t know what to expect, all he could hope for was that his descent was not down the express lane.
“That’s far enough,” Mike said to Jack, leveling his rifle on Jack’s forehead. “I’d appreciate if you’d put your safety on and keep your hands away from those shiny grenades.”
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