than a bump in the road. Got to be greener pastures somewhere else.”
“Not according to what we heard on Luther’s shortwave radio,” the tall one said. “That’s why there’s not any more TV. Things went bad fast all over. We heard that even the president turned zombie. And the plague virus is spreading like wildfire. Ain’t nowhere to hide. Only thing to do is pray and get right with God.”
Jake was about to make an unkind comment about the president turning zombie when Amanda screamed inside the eatery.
It was a gut-wrenching scream that shook Jake’s toughguy persona to his boots. He stood frozen with the three churchmen watching him as if withholding harsh judgment.
Her second scream set him in motion. He spun on his heels and ran back into the brick barbecue joint with the Magnum up like a steel boner and ready to rock.
Amanda was crouched in a corner, using a chair like a lion tamer to fend off the biggest, scariest zombie Jake had ever seen. The ghoul was a ginormous nightmare, going on seven feet tall in his stocking feet (with several fungus-encrusted toes sticking out of a hole in his sock) and with well over three hundred pounds filling out his stout bloodstained overalls.
Then Jake saw what had ripped the terrible screams from Amanda. Her boyfriend’s head rested in a plate of leftover barbecue pork, while his body lay on the floor on the other side of the table, blood still leaking from the stump of his neck. Todd’s left eye looked at Jake over the mushy pile of red-sauced pork.
It blinked.
Whether it was a knowing wink or a dying reflex, Jake didn’t take time to contemplate. He yelled, “Hey!” and put a .357 slug in the center of the giant zombie’s face, making a crooked-toothed mush of his mouth, as well as taking off the tip of his long nose. The back of his head came off and decorated the wall behind his hulking bulk with brain bits and skull chips and black blood.
Amanda took advantage of the zomboid giant’s distraction and dashed from the corner to the doorway, where she stopped and turned to see what would happen next.
Jake fired again and took out the monster’s right eyeball. Even though his mouth was no longer much of a threat, he was big enough to crush Jake in a bear hug and obviously strong enough to tear off his head (as evidenced by Exibit A, Todd’s bodiless noggin), but if Jake blinded the sonofabitch, they could avoid his clutches and disable his arms and legs at their leisure. Or just leave him to go bump in the eternal night.
Jake put the gun’s muzzle in the zombie’s face and blew out the other eyeball, taking off most of the rest of the back of the head and turning the wall behind him into as fine a piece of zombie art as could be found anywhere, in Jake’s less than humble opinion.
The mammoth zombie shambled and shuffled with arms outstretched as if in a bizarre burlesque of Karloff’s most famous monster. Now he was about as scary as a slow-moving mummy in one of those old black & white flicks from the 1940s.
Jake left him to his blind ramble and escorted Amanda outside.
“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he said with his arm around her shoulder.
“He wasn’t really my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, well …”
Jake removed the empty shells from the Magnum’s cylinder and replaced them with live rounds as he addressed the three men in suits. “He’s big but I blinded him and blew out his mouth. You could chop him down with an axe or cut him down to size with a chain-saw, if you’re of a mind to. Me and the lady here are heading out for Savannah, Georgia. Good luck to you.” Just like that it was decided. What the hell, he couldn’t let her go alone, could he?
“We heard pilgrims were gathering in Savannah,” said the short churchman, getting a sour look on his face. “Something about a female savior?”
“Something wrong with that?” Amanda said with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. Jake was glad to see the flash of angry
“Not according to what we heard on Luther’s shortwave radio,” the tall one said. “That’s why there’s not any more TV. Things went bad fast all over. We heard that even the president turned zombie. And the plague virus is spreading like wildfire. Ain’t nowhere to hide. Only thing to do is pray and get right with God.”
Jake was about to make an unkind comment about the president turning zombie when Amanda screamed inside the eatery.
It was a gut-wrenching scream that shook Jake’s toughguy persona to his boots. He stood frozen with the three churchmen watching him as if withholding harsh judgment.
Her second scream set him in motion. He spun on his heels and ran back into the brick barbecue joint with the Magnum up like a steel boner and ready to rock.
Amanda was crouched in a corner, using a chair like a lion tamer to fend off the biggest, scariest zombie Jake had ever seen. The ghoul was a ginormous nightmare, going on seven feet tall in his stocking feet (with several fungus-encrusted toes sticking out of a hole in his sock) and with well over three hundred pounds filling out his stout bloodstained overalls.
Then Jake saw what had ripped the terrible screams from Amanda. Her boyfriend’s head rested in a plate of leftover barbecue pork, while his body lay on the floor on the other side of the table, blood still leaking from the stump of his neck. Todd’s left eye looked at Jake over the mushy pile of red-sauced pork.
It blinked.
Whether it was a knowing wink or a dying reflex, Jake didn’t take time to contemplate. He yelled, “Hey!” and put a .357 slug in the center of the giant zombie’s face, making a crooked-toothed mush of his mouth, as well as taking off the tip of his long nose. The back of his head came off and decorated the wall behind his hulking bulk with brain bits and skull chips and black blood.
Amanda took advantage of the zomboid giant’s distraction and dashed from the corner to the doorway, where she stopped and turned to see what would happen next.
Jake fired again and took out the monster’s right eyeball. Even though his mouth was no longer much of a threat, he was big enough to crush Jake in a bear hug and obviously strong enough to tear off his head (as evidenced by Exibit A, Todd’s bodiless noggin), but if Jake blinded the sonofabitch, they could avoid his clutches and disable his arms and legs at their leisure. Or just leave him to go bump in the eternal night.
Jake put the gun’s muzzle in the zombie’s face and blew out the other eyeball, taking off most of the rest of the back of the head and turning the wall behind him into as fine a piece of zombie art as could be found anywhere, in Jake’s less than humble opinion.
The mammoth zombie shambled and shuffled with arms outstretched as if in a bizarre burlesque of Karloff’s most famous monster. Now he was about as scary as a slow-moving mummy in one of those old black & white flicks from the 1940s.
Jake left him to his blind ramble and escorted Amanda outside.
“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he said with his arm around her shoulder.
“He wasn’t really my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, well …”
Jake removed the empty shells from the Magnum’s cylinder and replaced them with live rounds as he addressed the three men in suits. “He’s big but I blinded him and blew out his mouth. You could chop him down with an axe or cut him down to size with a chain-saw, if you’re of a mind to. Me and the lady here are heading out for Savannah, Georgia. Good luck to you.” Just like that it was decided. What the hell, he couldn’t let her go alone, could he?
“We heard pilgrims were gathering in Savannah,” said the short churchman, getting a sour look on his face. “Something about a female savior?”
“Something wrong with that?” Amanda said with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. Jake was glad to see the flash of angry
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