Bobby was sitting at a desk that had been plopped in the middle of the lobby, a grand dark brown stained oak thing that stuck out like an extremely tack sore thumb. Big Mack thought it suited Bobby well. Bobby looked surprised to see someone in his lobby, whether he was surprised by who it was or just by the fact that his guards had let someone in Big Mack couldn’t know, nor did he care.
“What are you doing in here?” Bobby asked.
“We’re in trouble out there,” Big Mack answered
“I know, I saw.”
“So what are you doing in here?”
“Strategizing.”
“What?” Toga butted in. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We need people out there.”
“Fuck it, no we don’t. There’s nothing we can do,” Big Mack cautioned. “We need to start evacuating.”
“Impossible. You people haven’t gotten all of the supplies on the ships,” Bobby said.
Big Mack ignored the jibe, focusing instead on getting his point across. “It doesn’t matter. That wall is going to come down. Hell it may be down already. Those things are going to come in here, and they are going to tear us apart.”
“Then I suggest you get everyone together and start busting your asses to load the ships. We will not leave until supplies are stocked fully. At least on the Ocean Goddess.”
The Ocean Goddess was a large yacht, the type that only actors or rappers or royalty had before the apocalypse. It had been one of the first ships to arrive and Bobby and his small crew of enlightened stooges had claimed it quickly.
“You only care about yourself?” Toga asked.
“It’s what’s gotten me this far. Look, you’re type is good for something here in the world, that can’t be denied. But people like me, well really, as far as I know, just me, we’re needed. I’m absolutely crucial to mankind. I can plan. I can deliberate, I can get people on my side and use them when I need to and cut them loose when I don’t.”
“You’re disgusting. I should shoot you right here,” Big Mack said, reaching for his handgun. Toga held his arm down.
“Don’t,” Toga pleaded.
“What?” Big Mack asked.
“Let’s work with him, Mack. Why fight him? He’s right. Let’s get on board, again. You were once.”
“He killed Willy. You had a fit when I let Willy get killed, and now you want to team up with the man who killed him?”
“He didn’t. They hung Willy.”
“Come on,” Big Mack said. “Semantics. He killed him.”
“I know,” Toga admitted. “But things change you know? Come on.”
“No.”
“Suit your self,” Toga said and stepped forward. “Bobby, I pledge my gun to you. I’ll be your right hand man like my fellow Dead Jesters were before me.”
“You take that vest off,” Bobby said. I don’t need Dead Jesters. You take it off, and you prove to me you’re loyal.
“Toga, don’t.” Big Mack said, almost pleadingly. Toga shook his head softly and pulled the leather vest with the skull in a fool’s hat patched on the back off. He let it fall to the floor where it lay in a crumpled heap.
“Great,” Bobby said, smiling, his fat cheeks rising to obscure his eyes, making them nothing more than dark slits. “Now shoot him.”
“What?” Toga asked.
“Shoot Big Mack. If you want to come with me, shoot your old master.” Big Mack didn’t even bother to draw his gun, because he knew there was no way Toga would ever shoot him. Then there was a booming sound echoing through the high roofed lobby, and Big Mack felt a burning fire spreading through his stomach. He looked down and doubled over, his vision going blurry and his head feeling light suddenly as he watched his own blood spread on the front of his tee shirt.
“Come on,” he heard Bobby saying, and Big Mack watched Toga turn and walk with his new boss to the entrance of the theater. There was a blinding light as they opened the door, the sunlight angry and fierce, flooding the lobby. Then the door was shut and Big Mack was left alone, sitting on the floor now, his crimson blood spreading in a dark circle around him. Big Mack sat in the darkness, the only thing keeping him company was his ragged breaths, sharp and painful in his large chest. His heart was pounding, spilling more blood with each beat, his head felt as if it were filled with glue, thick and sticky and obscuring everything.
Big Mack knew that he would die if he stayed here, bleeding out on the floor. He wondered what the situation was like outside, using this sudden moment of clarity to formulate a plan. He worked himself back to his feet, a slow ponderous action that took almost ten minutes. Finally Big Mack was upright, leaning his heavy frame against the wall, holding one hand over the painful wound in his stomach, almost vomiting as he felt his own blood flowing so easily over his fingers. It was warm and sticky.
Big Mack concentrated on walking now, setting one foot in front of the other, over and over again, determined to cross the massive lobby no matter how hard it was or how long it took. Big Mack had no sense of time, he was just suddenly at the door, pushing it open and stepping into the sunlight, and into complete madness.
The wall was down, at least in parts. People were screaming as they were bitten and pulled apart in the streets, gunshots rang out constantly, and there was blood everywhere Big Mack looked. Big Mack stumbled forward still clutching at his wound. He pulled his gun from his waist, taking aim at a nearby zombie and blowing its brains onto the street. The biker looked to his
