Santa Monica.
The sky was choked with dark clouds, the wind howled like a banshee, and the chaos of the day hadn't yet settled. Zombies still roamed the streets, growling and snarling with unrelenting aggression.
On the outskirts of the city, Shrimpy led a small group of his underlings, moving cautiously through the darkness. After what had gone down earlier in the day, none of them dared to step foot back into the city.
Seafood was completely off the menu now. Instead, they were stuck scrounging for fat grasshoppers or rats in the barren wilderness to fill their stomachs.
"Shrimpy, I'm starving…" one of the underlings groaned, his voice low and guttural.
Shrimpy sighed, clearly just as miserable. "Hang in there. I'm starving with you, alright?"
"Shrimpy, do you think the boss is really… gone?" another zombie underling asked, his tone pitiful and uncertain.
