The moon barely lit the misty landscape as Marcus drove.
These country roads wind too much!
He cranked the wheel to avoid, what, a giant dog? He hit his head when he ran into the ditch. Groggy, he climbed from the car to see a miniature pony near a broken fence. Dogs barked, a farmhouse loomed silently. Moans drifted from the fields. Marcus saw Hungry Dead rising up. He scrambled into the car and spun wheels uselessly. A zombie bit the pony. It kicked, shattering the drivers window. The dead cut themselves on shards of glass as they climbed in.
“Ok ladies, the time has come for us to go to war! The time to sit around and play bingo and watch daytime television is past. We will take what is ours. We will go to the front lines and we will fight! We will face the enemy and when they rise against us, we will strike them asunder. We will tear down doors and break into the store rooms. We will find objectives and we will take them until none are left! Listen up Grandma’s, the Beanie Baby Happy Meals are coming, and we will collect every single one!”