Bobby is ever the ambassador

Bobby had been concentrating mostly on keeping Bandit under control. With the zombies back under lock and key, the dog had calmed down a little, though a steady stream of noises issued from the canine, a mixture of growls and whines. Bobby patted Bandit on the head. "Good boy," he said. A zombie alarm would be invaluable, no question about it.

"Hey, everyone ok over there?"

Bobby whirled around. A pick-up truck had slowly rolled closer, its light off entirely. The sound of the engine had got so buried under the sounds of the zombies, the dog and their various activities and conversations, no one had even heard the vehicle approach. Its driver sounded like an older guy, but in the twilight and across this distance it was hard to make out.

"Aside from a literal truckload of shite feckin' zombies, we're fine!" he yelled back, and Bandit added an enthusiastic bark. He turned to the rest of the group: "Hey, we got a visitor!"

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