Chapter Twenty-One
Charlie
The figure in front of us wasn’t a zombie but a middle-aged man wearing a button-down shirt and khaki pants. His clothes were stained and wrinkled. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy but not empty like the zombies’ eyes were. And his mouth wasn’t as slack as the zombies’ were, either. But he was stumbling around just like he was infected. Then I figured it out.
“Drunk as a skunk,” I murmured to Ty.
The man didn’t seem especially worried about Ty and me, despite the knives we were holding. He gazed at us and then said in a thick and slurring voice, “Thanks for getting me in here, guys. I’m Trent.”
I lowered his knife. “No problem. Looking for something, are you?”
Trent shrugged and seemed to concentrate very hard on sitting down. “About to run out of booze.
