Johnny


Johnny's first initial reaction was to leave them both.  Not far off in the distance he could see a dead man lying in the street, his guts spilling out from his torn open chest.  As Frank and the kid continued to speak, he focused in on the dead guy.  He was still moving.  A few seconds later the dead guy attempted to get up, with his arms moving aimlessly in search for flesh.

"What the fuck!?" He mumbled to himself.

They were reanimating.  Whatever the hell they were, they were multiplying right before his eyes.  He turned his focus back to the survivors next to him.  The kid spoke of a farm, not unreasonably far from here.  However, the getting there part seemed to be a problem.  They needed a ride, but even still, the roads were backed up making it nearly impossible to get out.

"Wait a minute," he muttered.  He had an idea.  It was a shit idea, but an idea nonetheless.  "Come on!"

He led them down the street heading North, staying quick but also using anything for cover that they passed.  A few moments later they could see a broken sign on top of a tavern that said: Hog Haven.  It was a local downtown bar he used to frequent, but more importantly it was a biker bar.  Sure enough, there were still a bunch of bikes parked out front.

"It'll be easier to get out on a bike," he told Frank.  "If we can get two running, you take the kid and I'll follow.  Besides, I think the bartender used to have a shotgun under the register."

He also knew that the bikers loved their motorcycles more than life itself here.  If the bikes were still in the parking lot, it either meant they were still inside, or already dead.  Either way, Johnny ran up and opened the door.

Silence.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," he told Frank.

The first thing he noticed was the blood on the floor, then the smell of death soon after.  Then he heard the sound of something crunching, it was faint at first, but quickly it became louder.  As he walked further in he could see the corpses.  He knelt down and searched a few of their pockets, successfully picking up a few keys.

Mission accomplished.

Johnny half grinned as he stood back up, ready to get back to the others.  Something else stood though, he caught its figure rise from his peripheral vision.  He took a deep breath then turned to face it.

It was one of the regulars.  A large man wearing a vest that read: Hell's Reaper, on the back.  The biker's entire cheek on the left side of his face was torn off, revealing flesh and bone.  His eyes were pale white and he seemed to be smiling back at Johnny.  He began to stagger forward.

"My God you're ugly," Johnny said.

The undead biker gave off a bone chilling shrieking noise, then quickened its pace as it lunged toward him.  Johnny dove over the bar without hesitation, immediately in search of the shotgun he knew once stayed somewhere down here.  

The infected man leapt over the bar after him, sloppily landing on his face near Johnnys feet.  In a panic, Johnny grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and smashed it half open against the floor.  As the creature grabbed at his legs, he began to continuously stab at it.  Over and over again, he stabbed the infecteds throat, his shoulders, his face and eyes.  Blood showered all over Johnny as he did so, until finally, the dead guy seemed dead again; unmoving.

"Asshole," Johnny said, wiping away some blood from his face.

He then opened the nearest bottle of rum and took a nice, long swig of it.  Standing up he called out to the others.  "It's clear."

He figured they had a few moments to gather some supplies, by that he was thinking booze.  Lots of booze.  As the two came in, he took it upon himself to put on some of one of the dead guy's clothes.  He threw on some jeans and boots, as well as a 'hells reaper' biker vest.  He also got a fresh pack of marlboro reds  and a silver zippo that had the word 'groovy' engraved on it.  He lit a cigarette and took a moment to enjoy the hit.

"Couldn't find the shotgun, but we have keys," he said, tossing one over to Frank.  "Lets ride."