Three weeks passed without anyone trying to eat me.
That might not have sounded impressive before the apocalypse, but what could I say? My standards had changed.
The horde remained beyond the hedge, spreading along the road and through the surrounding forest whenever nothing required its attention.
Wandering zombies rarely came close enough for the workers to see them anymore. Half-Jaw's patrols intercepted anything that moved toward the property, and the cores appeared outside the gate every morning.
Unfortunately for me, the plants collected them before breakfast.
Yuche adjusted Half-Jaw's metal leg twice during the first week. By the second, the zombie had learned how to bend the support without possessing a working joint. The replacement still scraped whenever Half-Jaw turned, but the sound had become part of the property.
Lingyun's zombie stayed near the gate.
He named it Toast after refusing several suggestions from the rest of us.
