Big Mack sat up and looked back to the docks. There were no boats left. They were in the ocean all around him, but no one on them was paying him any mind. Those left behind on the docks were making a stand, but even from a distance Big Mack could see it was hopeless. For every zombie that was killed, three humans were. Big Mack then saw something that made his heart skip a beat. A small figure was there on the dock, low to the ground, crawling along it to be exact. Bard. He could tell because the crawling zombie still had his guitar case strapped to his back. Bard crawled to the end of the dock and then fell over the side and into the water. Big Mack wondered if his old friend would follow him anywhere, no matter what obstacle lay in his path.
Big Mack felt the same way about Bobby. He lay back again, floating lazily on the rolling waves, staring once more at the sky. He would get Bobby. He would get Toga. He vowed it. But first, he had to sleep.
The Eight Horsemen
The wind rushed thru Jimmy Richard’s hair as the road ahead stretched onward into the urban chaos it lead to. The orange glow of fires raging ahead gave light to the broken city. He swerved his Indian Triumph through a maze like a corridor from burnt out cars, over turned military vehicles, and other debris whose operators and owners had most likely died long ago. He kept a watchful eye and for good reason, it was nearly nightfall and the cool winter, although slowing down the mutated zombies, contributed to them being far more aggressive to heat signatures, mainly those whom were amongst the living. Jimmy turned his bike near the side of a burnt out Army Humvee when the corner of his eye caught movement and with muscle memory trained, pulled out a pre-loaded shot gun in time to blast a zombie nearly upon his person. The huge blow back sent the zombie sputtering upon the ground as a large gaping hole was seen in its chest as it flopped around and roared in a confused manner. This would obviously set the other zombies off for they never were alone, as dozens of others began to leap upon the cars strewn around the street with gaping mouths hissing and screaming at him. Jimmy hit the throttle to his motorcycle and burned through with zombies hitting the street as each of them attempted to perform a death tackle.
“Hey it’s Jimmy!” He yelled in his mic, “These fucking things are thick and coming right on my ass. Get the other guys ready will you?”
“Sure thing boss man,” crackled a voice, “Getting a fix on your position now---holy shit you got their attention this time didn’t you?”
“Yeah no shit,” he replied, “I almost bought the farm 5 seconds ago!”
As Jimmy made it through the gauntlet of cars and obstructions, the zombie horde spilled out through the openings and into the open street, running at full speed behind the lone biker before flood lights were suddenly turned on and a chorus of loud chattering bursts came alive. Jimmy had lead a few hundred zombies to the pre-determined kill zone as small arms fire and rocket propelled grenades were launched into the deadly mob. Dramatic bursts of rotten flesh and blood spewed in clumps and misty clouds as they began to pile up before a large wall of overturned buses. Machine guns fired directly in the right and left of the mob’s flanks with the rocket launchers in the middle. There was an emergency gate that was hoisted up by two others serving as a main entrance which was slammed back down once Jimmy made it through the opening. There were loud cries of joy and cheers as the gun fire and explosions finally subsided and the ambush had been a success. The smell of death and burning flesh from those zombies that were directly hit by explosive rounds filled his nose as Jimmy surveyed the mass pile of the dead.
“Alright...,” Jimmy said, “That should have been a pretty good flush. Frontsight---send out some scouting parties to go on back into the main town and scavenge while we rifle through these dead asses,”
“Alright Bro,” Frontsight said, “Buzz…Vamp…Thrill-Killer go on and do what you do.”
“No problem mon,” Thrill-Killer said, “I’ve been wait’n fuh evah it seems.”
“Quit your bitching,” Buzz said, “We were going to get our turn in this meat market dump.”
“Tis not a dump mon,” said Thrill-Killer, “This is deh fuckin’ shit!”
“One funny sense of what ‘The Shit’ is,” Buzz replied.
The two got onto their own bikes. Thrill-Killer hosting a Suzuki Samurai SG and Buzz with a modified ape-hanging Harley full body complete with a sharpened grill in the front and a working buzz saw in case he needed to cut through a mob. He also had triggers underneath his handle bars that fired 2 .30 caliber machine guns which were mounted on the sides of his runners. The two bikers accompanied a large make-shift bus complete with 10 inch thick steel panels and a mish mash of barbed wire, spikes, and sharpened metal to prevent zombies from climbing onto the vehicle. The bus started on its path as Thrill-Killer opened fire with his .30 caliber machine guns, mowing down zombies that were in the path as Buzz tore through large groups of them with the radial saws in the front. The blood spatters and mayhem splashed the area with the smell of
