New York, 2012
Mr. Richardson stood near the entrance to Bio-Tech Industries. He had read the report on the Zombies. He had called them 'Risers'. Because they rose from their rotten graves to feed on the humans. He watched the cells intently; he was sure they'd bite those who they hated, or loathed.
He saw Darius Finch, the African-American security guard.
'Any problems?', he asked him.
'No, Sir. I was guarding them. And they're shuffling around like a demented mental ward patient at Garrison Psychiatric hospital. God, my father died in that place in '68', he said.
'When Attorney-General Robert Kennedy died'.
'Yes, Sir. Bad times, see'.
'Fine. Are you retiring soon?'.364Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1LotO4A6kN
'Yes, Sir. The wife is scared I will be bitten by them'.
'Have the night off'.
'Okay, Sir. Good night'.
'Good night'.
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