It's really dark in the loading dock as the kiddie crew, plus Donut and Kenard, play cards and talk shit: as we join them, Namond's in the middle of saying that when Partlow and his cronies cap a dude, it's not like when other people do it. Randy impatiently tells him "it ain't working," but Namond insists, "Word to my mother, yo -- Lex ain't dead. I seen him creeping an alley last night near the playground." Randy says that everyone knows Lex is dead, but Namond counters that there's dead, and then there's "special dead"; he announces that Partlow's victims are zombies, and that he takes them into vacants because "he need time to change them." Randy loses faith in his own judgment, hesitantly asking Michael if Namond's "funning"; Michael says he's not sure about the voodoo aspect, "but Chris is definitely doing something -- get a nigga to walk up in there knowing he about to get capped, man." Donut adds that Partlow's "different," which you can tell by "them coon-ass country clothes that nigga be wearing." Seems like if you really did think he had the power to turn you into a zombie, the last thing you'd do is mock his fashion sense. A couple of shots ring out, and the kids try to identify what kind of gun it came from like a bunch of wine conoisseurs trying to guess a vintage. Randy asks whether Namond's saying Lex is a zombie. Namond nods, and Kenard pipes up: "Pookie, Byron -- all them niggas." Namond says that Partlow is the "zombie master." "I knew this wasn't going away," says Randy despondently. Namond says that Partlow has powers: "He tell them to come and they gotta come -- like the devil do with the damned." Randy asks what he thinks Partlow has the zombies do, and Michael speculates that they're spies: "Can't figure any other way Marlo knows so much." Namond elaborates that he's seen a movie called Zombie Killer, in which the titular zombies came out at night to hunt. The discussion is briefly interrupted by the sound of a police siren, and then Namond resumes by saying that the zombies "snatched people up" to steal their warmth. They're interrupted yet again by the clatter of a liquor bottle smashing on the pavement -- another counterpoint in the nighttime ghetto symphony; delightful! -- and in the silence, they hear shuffling steps. Looking up, they see a figure staggering up the alley and freak the hell out, hauling ass out of there to escape the zombie spy. As the camera closes in, we see that the figure is just a garden-variety junkie. OR IS HE?!
"If you with us, you with us." -- Chris Partlow. In a brain-eating army of the daaaaaamned!