Silas hefted his cavalry sabre above his head and then he slammed it down into the zombie’s head; half of its head peeled away, like a slice of bread cut from a loaf.
He cocked his ear at the police sirens which wailed round the block. “The ‘rozzers,’ shit!”
One, two, three strides, “Hup” and over the trash cans. Silas leapt in the nick of time because a patrol wagon rounded the block’s corner just as he ducked down. The patrol wagon pulled up beside the corpse of the zombie. Nonchalantly Deputy Dingby glanced down the street, and then he strode across to the rotting thing. He grabbed hold of its heels, dragging it to the patrol wagon; he bundled the corpse inside. Part of the zombie’s head remained by the curb. Deputy Dingby sauntered back across the road and scuffed with his boot at the brains, sliding them into a drain.
Silas watched on.