Ricky worked tirelessly, his Eastern-Canadian background being little different than his Cajun background, save for the temperature he lived at in the winter. Either way, he had the spirit, mindset, and ability to do the sorts of things that might unnerve others. He justified it, thinking of the zombies like alligators who'd started hunting people. Anytime that happened, the waters swarmed with boats that bristled with guns until the the beast was killed. This time, though, the "gators" were winning. He just had to do his part. So he hacked up the monsters that assaulted him as quickly as he could, his Arkansas Toothpick tearing up any resistance. 

Of course, there was only so much time a man could spend killing zombies before more of them started to swarm. Soon enough he had to reverse his grip, so he had the tip pointing down in his hand. From there, stabbing forward through the eye socket was a good change of pace for his flagging arm. Soon enough, as the crowd got thicker, he heard the call to "Veer right." it was time to do some fence hopping. So he picked his foot up, bringing his knee to his chest, and just like his father had taught him, he kicked the zombie in front of him like he was kicking down a door. And as he did it, he realized how wrong it could go. Thankfully, his foot met solid flesh, and the ghoul was shoved back into its compatriots, slowing the lot of them as he moved left. There was a fenced gate at the end of a driveway. A good start. He stabbed his way past another trio of undead to get to it, and then he hopped the waist-high barrier without a second thought.

Once in the backyard, he found it clear, and sighed with relief. This would be a good way to break the horde's tail. Unfortunately, their ideal route was blocked by an eight foot fence. He'd done this before, though, so he was moving before anyone had time to really come up with another plan. He planted his back against the wooden fence and held out his left hand as he dropped into the iron chair. "Left foot, right foot, jump." he offered in explanation, tapping his left thigh, and then his shoulder, followed by a gesture at the top of the wall. His companions would surely be able to escape over the wall like this. It was just a matter of getting over himself. He knew some airsoft warriors with the balance to perch on top of the fence, and the strength to haul him over, but he couldn't say these two looked anything like them. 

Now wasn't the time to worry about that, though. Now was the time to get over the fence because the horde of zombies at the decorative gate out front was just about enough to topple the thing. He figured that sort of terror would add ten or so feet to his normal jump, so even being white wouldn't be a problem in this instance. It was just a matter of getting his new friends out of here before they lost their minds and did something silly...