The Walking Dead

After some hemming and hawing, you decide that walking back to the house is out of the question. You wade clumsily through the tangled mess of brooms, rakes, shovels and lawn chairs; making quiet a racket in the process. Before long you can here the scrapping of fingernails against the aluminum siding of the shed. By the sound of it, a decent size hoard has developed. Now you're trapped and you still have no idea where the shotgun is.