by Raye Larson
She'd certainly learned that, beneath the practical and ruthless facade, Spencer could sometimes not be an asshole.
Sometimes.
"Shall we go inside?" Spencer asked. "I'd like to have Mr. Weatherby do something for your arm."
"Okay." Charlotte would like that too. She'd also like someone to mow all the dead down but she was willing to start with this.
Tomorrow, though, she hoped someone got on that killing the zombies thing.
© 2017 JP Larsen. All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
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