Glancing over at his brother, Galen said, “No he won’t cuz you didn’t murder him.”
“I did, too!” Eamon yelled.
“No, you didn’t!”
“I did! I stabbed him with my sword!”
Rolling his eyes, Galen said, “You tripped over his foot.”
“But my sword stabbed him!”
Exasperated, Galen said, “Fine, you stay here and I’ll go get Carsso.”
Eamon’s eyes grew wide as he backed further away from the man. “No way I’m stayin’ with a dead man.”
“Then go get Carsso!”
“Uh-uh…I’m not leavin’ you alone with him,” Eamon said, staring at the unmoving man. “It’s not safe.”
“He’s dead! He can’t hurt me!” Galen shouted.
“Maybe he’ll come back to life…like a zombie,” Eamon whispered.
“I’m tellin’ ya, there ain’t no zombies,” Galen said.
“Oh yeah? Then why is there a word for them if there ain’t none?”
“Duh! Because someone made it up!”
“You’re lyin’. Nobodies makes up words,” Eamon said, angrily.
Shaking his head, Galen muttered, “There ain’t no zombies.”
“I’m tellin’ Carsso you’re lyin’ again.”
“No I’m not!” Galen retorted. “Take it back!”
“You are too, lyin’! You said there ain’t no zombies and there is.”
“Prove it!”
Eamon’s eyes shifted to the man. Pointing, he said, “There’s one.”
“He’s not a zombie cuz he ain’t moving,” Galen said smugly.
“Yeah, he is,” Eamon insisted.
“Show me,” Galen said, turning his attention to the man on the ground.
Eamon peered around his brother’s shoulder, his eyes traveling down the length of the body, finding no signs of life.
“See…he’s dead, not a zombie,” said Galen, smugly.
“Maybe it’s gotta be dark first,” Eamon said.
“Or maybe there ain’t no zombies!”
“Help…meee.”
