You turn as quickly as your creaking joints will allow, and stare directly into a face that is pale gray and sagging, with a white circle of little scars around her head. Her hair is greasy and tangled, and she wears a brown sack with holes torn in it for want of any real clothes.

Aargh! She's a zombie!

...Oh, wait.

She stares at you for a moment, then slowly lowers her sawed-off shotgun. "Sorry about that," she apologizes, though she's still eyeing you cautiously. "I thought you were one of them bounty hunters."

By her wide eyes, you startled her, though she doesn't look like one to admit it.

"Hey," she says, as if a thought has just struck her. "You look almost fresh. You newly dead or something?"