Island of the Dead
Jeremy Sloan
6 pm Tuesday
By Tuesday night, the island was cut off from the world. The land lines were down and my cell phone wasn't getting a signal. The local FM station was off the air, and the TV station on the mainland had a 'technical difficulties' screen up.
The ranks of the walking dead, it seemed, were swelling.
The sky across the bay was a hellish orange from a fire burning apparently uncontrolled, somewhere downtown. From time to time I heard the 'pop' of distant gunfire. Near sunset, the neighbor's dog begin to bark frantically. The barking turned to a deep growl and then to a series of pitiful yelps.
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