Free Death and Biker Gangs by S. P. Blackmore

remember it. Those still, staring faces had done a number on all of us.
    I tipped my head in the direction of the diner. “Well…there’s one in there.”
    He glanced at the diner, but didn’t head that way just yet. “Just standing in there?”
    “Just staring.”
    I still couldn’t decide which was worse: the covetous stares of the undead, or the intensity of the other things. Tony produced one of his pistols and started for the diner, and I hurried along beside him. He stopped abruptly. “Where’s the dog?”
    “I left her inside with Dax. She kept wandering off to sniff things, and I didn’t want to keep an eye on her.”
    He turned to face the little shop and waved his hand in the air.
    The station door opened, and Dax and our resident golden came bounding out.  See,  I almost said to Dax,  he didn’t ditch us.
    Evie darted around our legs, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. I reached down and rubbed her back, my fingers catching in her knotted fur. “You need a bath, little dog.”
    “She also needs some kibble or something.” Dax looked between the two of us, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s the matter? What’d you find at Elderwood?”
    “Think they’re managing, but I couldn’t even get at the back gate.”
    Dax nodded slowly, focusing his gaze on the dog. I didn’t blame him; it was much easier to stare at a grinning, happy canine than at the bleak gray surroundings we’d fallen into. “So what do we do?”
    “We hit up Hastings,” I said. “It’ll be fun. The three of us on the road again, dodging the undead and jackasses on bikes…”
    “Sweet.” Dax pumped his fists in the air with exaggerated enthusiasm. “ Road trip! ”
    An answering groan sounded from somewhere behind us, and a zombie in a flowered housedress came limping around the side of the building. She had a shower cap perched atop her matted gray hair, and clutched a half-eaten head in her left hand. Most of the fingers on her right hand were gone, and something white squirmed between her toes. 
    She had probably been dead at least a couple of weeks. I was stuck on the head. Had she been snacking on it and then forgotten to drop it? Was it someone she’d known?
    Evie snarled. I managed to grab her collar before she could take a flying leap at the shuffler. “First one of the day,” I said. “Let’s get out of here before she calls her friends.”
    Tony glanced at his pistol, then at the dead woman. “Dax, you woke her up, you can put her back to sleep.”
    Dax felt around for his holster, then flushed as he realized he hadn’t put it on. “Uh…Vibby…can you…?”
    How was it that  I  ended up ready to deal with the freaking undead? I tugged out my pistol and handed it to him, then had to watch him waste three shots before he nailed the bitch in the head. I swear the gun felt lighter when I holstered it.
    Tony pointed at the store. “Pack up the stuff and let’s get out of here before her pals show up.”
    “But the thing—”
    “It’s not  bothering us ,” he hissed.
    When Tony hisses, it’s usually time to do as he says. Besides, there was probably plenty of bizarre stuff waiting for us on the road.
    Oh, if only I knew.
     
    ***
     
    It only took about three blocks to figure out General Hammond and his men hadn’t come through here much after the initial evacuation.
    It was just as well we were on foot; even if the bike had worked, it would have had trouble picking through all the debris scattered across the road. We passed cars, trucks, and everything in between, all of them in varying states of repair. Some looked intact underneath layers of still-damp, congealed ash, but others had smashed into houses, roadblocks, or other vehicles.
    They faced every which way, some with doors flung open, others with hoods popped. Tony paused next to a big SUV that seemed relatively untouched. “Now what happened here?”
    “Panic?” I suggested.
    Something thumped around inside the SUV. I turned