Shawn yelped (very, very quietly) and did the stupid thing of dashing down the stairs and diving behind the bar. There was still the hole in his wall from the zombie plot (not the poisoned bread zombies, but the police zombies). It was covered up by various colorful fabrics that Shawn thought gave the place a certain bohemian flair. He lifted the fabrics and was met with COLD that shriveled his bits. He shivered and glanced nervously up the stairs.

What. Was he doing.