Bridge Street.

High As A Kite.

The small group are sneaking down a side alley between two walls that belong to big branded shops; they come out from the passage at the entrance of the Grafton shopping centre; they have to be extra sneaky not to be spotted by a Z because they are now deep in their new territory. A snarl in exchange for words every time the Z's bump into each other. George, followed by the others, is stealthy walking through the shopping centre entrance; they steadily walk past the body with the squashed head into the shopping centre via the other door beside it. They are not long into the Grafton shopping centre, undetected, but unfortunately, they can be as sneaky as they want, but they cannot hide their human scent. A snarling Z has just picked up from them; he sniffs the air after seeing them venturing through the other side of the automatic glass doors. The Z runs limping towards them but doesn't wait for the automatic doors to reopen, so the Z ploughs through the glass door, which should be bulletproof. Still, I don't think it is, as the shards of glass shatter outwards, slowly followed by the Z. The commotion alerts the small group, which is at the toilet stair entrance, they start to jog away to find a place to hide, but unbeknown to them, it has also alerted the small hoard outside to chase after them.

As they are running through the shopping centre, dodging bins, some shops haven't got their shutters down, with lights still on. The rest ran ahead of George, who sidesteps a grey shopping centre bin after skidding around the corner, nearly clambering into a shop display window; I swear he was that close even the sexily dressed mannequins almost flinched. He quietly calls the others back because he has spotted something. As the others stop jogging, looking back to see George waving them to come back because through the shop's display is a slit that he is peering through to see a lady with her tits out, fingering herself, only joking, my friend. It's two Zs banging on a white office door.

George whispers, "Come on, they will be closed."

Adam tries to whisper back, but he is unsure why he attempted to; his voice is deep, like the core of this very earth, with every decibel saying, "I think it's too late; it is like a ghost town."

George responds, "Yeah, alright, voice! Tone it down, look."

He points to the two Zs, still trying to get into the office door, fuck knows how they didn't hear Adam's voice. A clothes shop is Next to a cookie shop. Three casually dressed mannequins are on each side of the open shop's entrance. Now I am telling you this because you will see, my friend, the group of five is interrupted by the small hoard of Zs rushing through the shopping centre as they spill around the corner, turning back to see the five humans have disappeared. The small group of Zs come running through, turning round the corner towards the cookie shop, after turning again after going to explore the rest of the shopping centre. The two Zs that was banging on the office door are now joining the hoard, which isn't suitable for anyone that comes into contact with the brain-suckling dickheads. George's breath is released from his lips as his eyes check to see if the coast is clear. Let me draw your eyes out so you can see the bigger picture; the five were posing as mannequins in the clothes shop Next to the cookie shop. They all have funny poses, with the dummies lying at their feet.

Back to the bus depot, where the two lads are sitting, an exhale of smoke mixed with the cold night's air from the first lad's mouth; as he drops the finished doobie to the floor, his buddy notices the bus doors are open.

The first lad is Jerry, and his mate is called Tom.

Jerry says, "I wonder if the keys are still in the ignition."

Tom responds, "There is only one way to find out."

They both stand up to go check out the bus.