Welcome to another Six Sentence Sunday. I thought this week I’d give you the first six from something I've been working on. It’s the same Post-Zombie-Apocalypse world as Flesh. Let me know what you think.
In the end they took a vote on whether or not to trade Roslyn to the stranger at the gate. They even gave her a say, demonstrating democracy was not dead even if civilisation had gone belly up seven months back when the virus first struck.
All nine survivors gathered on the school steps. The weak winter sun above them did little to combat the bitter wind. Her marrow was ice and her teeth chattered. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself, huddle down into the green school jacket she’d purloined out of a student locker.