"The first week without the boss… I miss him… I really miss him…"
Big Ears was sighing miserably, his face full of sorrow. He looked downright pitiful.
They'd just crossed into the northern U.S. borderlands. It was December, and snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky. The ground was blanketed in white, a pristine winter wonderland.
Zombies didn't mind the cold—they were pretty resistant to freezing—but food was getting scarce.
The "Continental Sweep" operation hadn't exactly been a picnic. After a long, grueling march and countless battles, they still hadn't had a decent meal. Everyone was starving.
"No shrimp!" Shrimpy whined from the side, his face twisted in disappointment.
Big Ears shot him a look. "We're inland, man. Where the hell would shrimp come from? And the farther we go, the farther we get from the ocean."
"Huh?!" Shrimpy's jaw dropped. His soul practically left his body.
