Ezra shook his head. He held out his hand. "Just give me the crowbar," he said. "I'll get it." It was the thing he excelled at the most these days, after all. If he was good for anything, it was putting down zombies. And there was no reason for Mort to take a risk, since Ezra figured he'd be able to drop it with not that much trouble.
There was a solid bang against the door, and moans started to rattle out of a dusty, dry throat. The sound used to give him chills, used to freeze him for a few seconds, but that was a long time ago. These days, it didn't even phase him, aside from the adrenaline that started to leak into his system properly.