Lynn was moving, fast and smooth. She danced through and around all six of them. They were surrounded by a pale beauty in the waning moonlight, weavin... a trail of curses, groans, yelps and thuds. She touched each of them, but they never touched her. Then I was beside her, looking at six on the ground, groaning but not permanently injured. Loud and hostile draped over a bush, unconscious."Lemme get my stuff," Lynn said in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice. One guy rose tentatively on one arm. My gun. We had made short work of the perpetrators of the second wave of terror using the popular diesel pits to eliminate the problem of terminal elimination without much damage to the landscape. We could usually get four or five hundred of the zombies into an average sized pit, incinerate them and then cover up the thing with a couple of truckloads of reclaimed land soil. There were circles of those tell-tale bands around most urban areas by the time the effort to win back our territory. More

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