Mark A Davis
A hot California sun beat down. People clawed at the red sedan -- people in jeans and camouflage, people with dirty faces and greasy, stringy hair. They yelled and smashed signs into it -- signs that read "Down With Zombies!" and "Zombie Apocalypse -- Just Say No!" More people rushed for the vehicle, some of them wielding clubs and hatchets and pistols and sawed-off shotguns.
"Kill it!" one screamed. "It wants our brains!"
"It's the end of the world!" another cried out. "It's the zombie apocalypse! Kill it now!"
Daniel 'Three Eyes' Blumstein was a zombie. He turned to Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero, who gripped the steering wheel. "Floooor iiiit!" the zombie exclaimed.
Grandpa Anarchy, dressed in his usual gray suit with the silver anarchy symbol stitched over the left breast, hit the gas. Knocking people over and scattering them, the sedan tore out of the parking lot and down the street. A shotgun blast at the retreating car shattered the back window.
They sped down the Southern California streets. Up ahead another group of zombie apocalypse survivors were milling about in the street. Grandpa swerved, crashed through a wooden fence, and bounced across a vacant lot. The car flew over a sidewalk and onto a side street, where Grandpa accelerated.
"Never thought I'd see the day," said Grandpa, "when the world was taken over by fans of zombie films. That Walking Dead television series has a lot to answer for."
"Nooo zombiiie iiis saaafe," Three Eyes agreed.
Up ahead a pickup truck filled with screaming people wielding weapons tried to block their path. Grandpa swerved around it. As he passed, he leaned out the window and fired his pistol into the front tire. The truck swerved and rolled over.
During World War II, Daniel 'Four Eyes' Blumstein had been a member of Sgt. Anarchy's Roaring Rangers. They'd been tasked with taking out Nazi Germany's elite superpowered operatives -- and they'd done a very good job of it. So good, in fact, that the original comic of their adventures had lasted until 1950, and then an all-new comic, The New Adventures of Sgt. Anarchy and His Roaring Rangers had been published from 1961 until 1975.
And then, sometime last year, a secret organization had brought the team back together. They were old -- very old. One was a cyborg. One was nothing but a robot with the memories of one of their teammates. And as for Daniel Blumstein -- in the intervening years he'd lost one eye and become a zombie.
I dooon't waaant to eaaat aaanyone's braaains," said the zombie. "Whooo doooes that? Have yooou ever tried braaains?
"Once or twice," Grandpa said. "They eat cow brains in Mexico, you know. It's called sesos. They put it in tacos. It's not bad. And they sell fried brain sandwiches in Missouri. Also eggs and brains, that's something people eat."
Another car tried to block their path. Grandpa rammed it and sent it flying off the road.
"Sooounds liiike a greaaat waaay to get booovine spongifooorm encephaaalopathy if yooou ask meee," the zombie replied.
They were speeding up the coastline now. Grandpa took a turn at twice the recommended speed and flew up a hillside. At the top they came to an empty house. "Bought this place back in '08 after the housing market bubble burst," said Grandpa. "We'll hide out here. Great location. You can see 'em coming from any direction." He leaped out of the car with his shotgun and ran for the frong doors. The zombie followed at a slower pace.
"Weee caaan't hoold ouut heeere," the zombie said. "They'll get uuus for suuurrre."
"Oh," said Grandpa, "there's no escape. Never is in a Zombie Apocalypse, so it should be the same for a Zombie Apocalypse Survivor's Apocalypse. In this scenario all zombies are doomed. I hate to say it, friend, but you're a dead zombie walking. More dead, I mean -- you'll probably be dismembered." Grandpa cocked the shotgun and added, "But don't worry, we'll go all Battle of Thermopylae on them -- we'll make one last heroic stand and take most of them with us!"