Chapter Eighteen
We drove until we reached the city of Richmond, where Dale pulled into a large Wal-Mart parking lot. We decided against the local mall since there were too many zombies to risk getting in.
“This makes more sense anyway,” I said. “I think they even sell some kind of firearms.”
We followed Dale through the parking lot while he maneuvered us around most of the zombies. Just when I thought he was going to drive through the front entrance, he drove around to the back of the store where an employee exit door stood ajar.
“I worked at Wal-Mart when I was younger,” said Dale, “always kept the back door open there, too.”
“Keep your personal life to yourself,” grumbled Henry. “There’s a young, impressionable girl present.”
“Gotta love a hypocrite,” mumbled Billie under his brea
