Night of the Living Dead — John Russo

They are coming, rising rotten from their graves, filling the night with a furious howl, and staining the earth bloody-red ... They are growing, their powers are swelling, from feasting on flesh and gnawing on bone, now they are drunk on the sweet taste. Now they are here, and they march to the rhythm of death. Now they will crash down the gates, take ail that is theirs, and wipe the blood from their lips ...