Alison scanned the dark interior of the building, but found nothing.  No sounds, no movement, no life.  A thread of light ricocheted off a half-empty booze bottle and through her trembling eyes.  “This must be a pub,” she thought to herself, “I could use a shot right about now.”

She walked behind the bar and scoured its contents.  An aged bottle of whiskey whetted her palette.  As she gulped down the brown liquor she heard a glass-shattering crash!  “The beer bottle,” she asked desperately, “where did it go?” 

Alison’s ears searched for information.  First, silence.  Then, the sound of a metal stool turning.  Then, the horrid sound she had feared all along – the moans of the dead!  Of all the gin joints in the world, she had to come to this one!  Several zombies stood with their arms raised.  Terrified, Alison scrambled towards the rusted doors of the dusty bar – towards the thread of light.  In the darkness she slammed hard into an old jukebox and stumbled into a booth.  The jukebox started rumbling and clicking.  Confused and shaken, Alison sank deeper into the web-ridden booth.  For the zombies, dinner had been served.

Suddenly, the old jukebox began to play!  The zombie’s eyed their fresh meal, but their dead stems started to step in the rhythm.  The zombie’s just could not resist the sexy beats of Buster Poindexter.  The zombies had to DANCE!  Each zombie put his hands on the shoulders of the zombie in front of him, and boogied around the bar as if they were attending Alison’s wedding.  But this was no wedding, and Alison was no one’s bride.  She used the musical distraction to her advantage and escaped through the thread of light!