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Rumour had it that the dead man was staying in one of the cabins near Lake Placid. Rumour also had it – you know how small towns are – the sheriff and his two deputies, followed by a pickup full of gun totting locals were headed out to investigate. Bagley heard all the rumours as he sat in the diner eating his cheese burger and fries, and thinking about the real possibility of a zombie outbreak. He couldn’t get his head around it. There wasn’t such a thing has zombies. But he’d seen it with his own eyes and everyone else was talking about it. Some were scared and getting ready to pack up and leave. Others were acting like it wasn’t real. Which it surely couldn’t be, could it?

Bagley finished his cheese burger and wiped his greasy fingers on a paper napkin. What did the town do now? Just go back to work like it never happened, or barricade itself in?

Bagley’s father worked at a quarry on the outskirts of town, which meant he’d be out at work. His father had a handgun wrapped in a towel, hidden at the back of his wardrobe. Bagley had a spare key to his folks place. He decided to go over and get himself a bit of protection. Just in case.

Bagley was walking back to work with his father’s fully loaded Colt .45 pushed down the waistband of his jeans. Now he had the gun he was starting to feel a bit ridiculous.

Bloody zombies, he had to laugh and shake his head.

He checked his phone. He’d been texting his mate Sam, to tell him what had been happening. But so far Sam hadn’t replied. He’d probably be at work in the National Park. Still no reply, he put the phone back in his pocket just as the sheriff’s police cruiser roared down the high street, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The cruiser skidded to a halt outside the station, about fifty yards in front of Bagley’s current location. The driver’s door opened and the bulky form of the sheriff clambered out. He stumbled, almost falling, and righted himself. Bagley continued walking forward watching the sheriff, wondering where his deputies were, and the boys in the pickup.

The sheriff stumbled again, reaching out for support. Bagley was now ten yards away and could make out the sheriff’s facial features. His face was unnaturally pale, with an almost greenish ting to his skin. Blood was dribbling from his nostrils, and was that blood leaking out of his eyes? Three people huddled closer around the sheriff. A woman moved over and blocked out Bagley’s view.

There was an ear piercing shriek and the woman fell backwards falling to the dusty floor with the sheriff on top. In the ensuing madness he seemed to grope at her breasts with both hands. The sheriff lifted his head up and looked around at the frantic, terror stricken people in the street. His stare almost seemed to ask: What are you all looking at? We’re busy.

Bagley, without thinking, pulled the Colt out from the back of his jeans, clicked off the safety. The sheriff took a head shot. Blood, brains, bits of skull and hair splattered against the front fender of the police cruiser.

Bagley passed out.

Bagley was in the county jail. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

In the next cellar sat a local redneck he recognised from town. He didn’t know his name, had never spoken to him, but had seen him drinking in the bars.

"God, I could do with a beer," said the redneck. He seemed to be speaking to himself, but Bagley got the impression he was addressing him, as they were sat back to back, separated by the bars. Lister was the only other person down in the holding cells and he was way down at the other end.

"What you in for?" The redneck spoke again. "DUI, Possession? Fuck, I wish it was that simple. Me and my bro, we got paid to get rid of some barrels of waste. Supposed to drive out into the boonies and bury ‘em. Been lazy bastards ‘n it bein’ too goddamn hot we couldn’t be arsed, so we tipped ‘em off the back of the truck down the bank, into the bush below." He seemed to be speaking to himself now, rattling on. Maybe he needed to get it off his chest. "We thought they’d just end up in the middle of nowhere. There’s nowt down there off the sides of the mountain? No roads, paths, nowt. I thought that’d be the last we’d see of ‘em."

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