up on fully automatic. The 7.76mm rounds shattered the 4x4’s windshield, peppering the driver and passenger with bullets. It swung around to the driver side of the truck and accelerated out of Billy’s line of sight.
But not Chico’s.
He stood at the blown open rear of the trailer, raised his shotgun and took aim. The superzombie driving the 4x4 was visible, less than fifteen away. Chico fired, blowing the left side of the deadfuck’s face off. The truck swerved hard to the left a decelerated, recovering just as two of its tires hit the unpaved shoulder of the road.
Angel dropped his bike back to come parallel with the 4x4. Wild Billy held a grenade in his hand, and had pulled the pin as Angel brought the bike alongside the 4x4.
“Merry fucking Christmas!” Wild Billy screamed, tossing the grenade over Angel's head into the cab of the 4x4. Angel gunned the bike, pressing Wild Billy back into his seat of the sidecar. The two superzombies inside the 4x4 were scrambling to find the grenade, but to no avail. Just as Angel was pulling the bike up alongside the box truck, the grenade exploded, blowing both deadfucks to pieces. The blast reached the 4x4’s gas tank, which in turn exploded, turning the vehicle into a rolling fireball that swerved off road, crashing into the base of a hill. Wild Billy let out a long, whooping yelp of victory, a sentiment echoed by Smitty Tucker and all his surviving crew.
Smitty was pulled from his revelry by the passenger door opening, and the superzombie that used to be Augie began climbing in from underneath. It locked eyes with Smitty; it had Augie’s same missing tooth, and still had Augie’s jewelry on its fingers and in its ears. One hand was gripping the open door while the other reached in and sank its blackened claws into the cushion of the seat, trying to pull itself into the cab. It must have grabbed the underside of the truck after it crashed into the rear bumper, pulling itself along the undercarriage to reach the cab.
“CHICO!” Smitty pulled one of the five 9mm pistols he carried, took aim at the superzombie’s face and began firing. When his pistol clicked empty, half of the creature's head had been blown away, the remnants like a rotten egg leaking thick black ichor and foul fumes, but one of its eyes still burned fiercely, boring into Smitty like a drill. The superzombie gave a heave, pulling itself halfway into the cab. It let got of the open doorframe and braced its hand on the dashboard, its other hand still gripping the seat cushion.
Chico poked his shotgun through the access door, took aim at the hand gripping the seat cushion and fired, disintegrating the hand and upper wrist into a splatter of dead flesh, bone and black slime. It went off balance, teetering out the open door. Chico sprawled his upper torso through the doorway, lying on the floor of the cab between the seats. He aimed his shotgun at the zombie's chest and fired. The point blank shot blew a softball sized hole right through its chests and out its back, dislodging it from the side of the truck where it tumbled into a broken heap along the side of the road.
“That was Augie!” Smitty hissed through clenched teeth, wincing against the pain of his wounds.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Chico exclaimed, sitting in the passenger’s seat.
“It was! Those motherfuckers got to Augie and put one of those slugs into him!”
“Fuck.” Chico said with deflation.
Smitty growled in frustration. He held the truck at a steady 30 mph. He felt a boiling anger in his gut, and he wanted to press the pedal to the floor, to wash away his problems with the roar of the open road, just like he always had, but the truck was too battered to go any faster. Angel’s bike was fifty yards ahead of him. Even at that distance, he could read Angel’s pain in his body language. In the sidecar, Wild Billy’s face was in his hands, his shoulders slumped in sadness. Augie had been his best friend.
“Do you think those
But not Chico’s.
He stood at the blown open rear of the trailer, raised his shotgun and took aim. The superzombie driving the 4x4 was visible, less than fifteen away. Chico fired, blowing the left side of the deadfuck’s face off. The truck swerved hard to the left a decelerated, recovering just as two of its tires hit the unpaved shoulder of the road.
Angel dropped his bike back to come parallel with the 4x4. Wild Billy held a grenade in his hand, and had pulled the pin as Angel brought the bike alongside the 4x4.
“Merry fucking Christmas!” Wild Billy screamed, tossing the grenade over Angel's head into the cab of the 4x4. Angel gunned the bike, pressing Wild Billy back into his seat of the sidecar. The two superzombies inside the 4x4 were scrambling to find the grenade, but to no avail. Just as Angel was pulling the bike up alongside the box truck, the grenade exploded, blowing both deadfucks to pieces. The blast reached the 4x4’s gas tank, which in turn exploded, turning the vehicle into a rolling fireball that swerved off road, crashing into the base of a hill. Wild Billy let out a long, whooping yelp of victory, a sentiment echoed by Smitty Tucker and all his surviving crew.
Smitty was pulled from his revelry by the passenger door opening, and the superzombie that used to be Augie began climbing in from underneath. It locked eyes with Smitty; it had Augie’s same missing tooth, and still had Augie’s jewelry on its fingers and in its ears. One hand was gripping the open door while the other reached in and sank its blackened claws into the cushion of the seat, trying to pull itself into the cab. It must have grabbed the underside of the truck after it crashed into the rear bumper, pulling itself along the undercarriage to reach the cab.
“CHICO!” Smitty pulled one of the five 9mm pistols he carried, took aim at the superzombie’s face and began firing. When his pistol clicked empty, half of the creature's head had been blown away, the remnants like a rotten egg leaking thick black ichor and foul fumes, but one of its eyes still burned fiercely, boring into Smitty like a drill. The superzombie gave a heave, pulling itself halfway into the cab. It let got of the open doorframe and braced its hand on the dashboard, its other hand still gripping the seat cushion.
Chico poked his shotgun through the access door, took aim at the hand gripping the seat cushion and fired, disintegrating the hand and upper wrist into a splatter of dead flesh, bone and black slime. It went off balance, teetering out the open door. Chico sprawled his upper torso through the doorway, lying on the floor of the cab between the seats. He aimed his shotgun at the zombie's chest and fired. The point blank shot blew a softball sized hole right through its chests and out its back, dislodging it from the side of the truck where it tumbled into a broken heap along the side of the road.
“That was Augie!” Smitty hissed through clenched teeth, wincing against the pain of his wounds.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Chico exclaimed, sitting in the passenger’s seat.
“It was! Those motherfuckers got to Augie and put one of those slugs into him!”
“Fuck.” Chico said with deflation.
Smitty growled in frustration. He held the truck at a steady 30 mph. He felt a boiling anger in his gut, and he wanted to press the pedal to the floor, to wash away his problems with the roar of the open road, just like he always had, but the truck was too battered to go any faster. Angel’s bike was fifty yards ahead of him. Even at that distance, he could read Angel’s pain in his body language. In the sidecar, Wild Billy’s face was in his hands, his shoulders slumped in sadness. Augie had been his best friend.
“Do you think those
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