Meanwhile, in an organic goods store down the other corridor, the store owner, named Angela Prescott, was hiding behind the register counter. She was trying to get her cell phone to get a signal.
"C'mon, you damn thing," she growled to herself. She kept trying to call for help, but she still got no signal. Just then, she heard something moving through her store. Angela quickly snatched up her weapon, a sawed-off twelve gauge shotgun, and slowly peered over the countertop. Nothing.
"Whew," she whispered in relief.
"RAHHHHHHHH!" a butt-ugly figure of a zombie growled as it jumped up on the counter.
BANG!
The zombie flopped over dead, its brains blown out. Angela stood up, and looked at the remains.
"Sneaky b******," she said to herself. She held her firearm ready for battle as she reached up with her left hand and strightened her glasses.