No Bits Per Second

The three of us sat on the wall, passing the can between us. I hadn't drunk ginger beer since secondary school, and I took too big a swig and coughed as I drank it. "Can't hold your drink, eh" Magnus said archly. "Just hotter than I remembered," I sputtered, then seeing Roger frown I added "picante, not caliente". Roger nodded in understanding. "There's no ambiguity here," Magnus contended. "There's a lot of ambiguity in three men sharing a can," Roger said. "It would be some kind of homosexual menage-a-trois in Japan." I passed the can back to Magnus and checked my mobile. Still nothing. "There's not the same distinction in English between picante hot and caliente hot," I explained, "but in Spanish there's two different words for it. Also, Rog, what?" "Well..." Roger started, but Magnus spoke over him. "There's a word in English," he said. "Spicy, that...

Scrambling over the edge of the skip, Adrian's foot slipped and his lead leg fell onto the metal wall, sending a red burst of pain up his injured thigh. Shocked, his grip opened and he began to topple backwards, catching himself awkwardly with his other hand before he fell completely. Knowing that he mustn't, but unable to stop himself, he glanced over his shoulder and saw to his horror that a few of the monsters had got clear of the rest of the shambling pack and were running towards him at full tilt. That was wrong, surely? Surely they couldn't run fast, they were dead weren't they? He remembered suddenly what Frank had told him - they get slower as they get older, just like us but more so. "Shit! Shit!" He pulled himself up, ignoring the complaints from his shoulder muscles, and managed to get his right leg under him. Jumping from the wall of the skip he got onto the top of the raised area at the side of the car-park and began to sprint. Behind him the skip...