Looking up, you get a view of the most beautiful swing - from an angle you never see on TV. Yount’s bat glides over your head, and with a loud crack, sends zombie-Sheffield’s head flying deep to the chalet in center. You follow the arc, and cringe as it hits an unsuspecting Bernie square in the crotch. He doubles over in pain, and falls head first down his slide. Scrambling to stop his descent, the mascot screams in terror as he slides into a giant mug of clawing undead.
“Quickly,” Yount hisses through clenched teeth, “we don’t have much time!” The hulking outfield combo of Greg Vaughn and Rob Deer have almost reached the infield. The undead streamed from the bullpens in right. Where they had been spread out before, you realize as they get nearer, you both are quickly becoming surrounded. You follow him into the dugout, down the hall, into the darkness beyond...
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