Zombie Fighter Jango #1 The Road to Hell Is Paved With Zombies by Cedric Nye Page B

crazy-train, and about to fall off the rails when Sonja spoke.
    “A giant dog?” She asked him, genuinely curious despite the fact that Jango’s lips were flecked with spit, his face was an ugly purple color, and large veins were writhing on his neck and forehead.
    “So how big is giant?” Sonja asked, “Like, as big as a Great Dane?” She was desperately trying to get Jango to calm down. She knew he was messed-up. She just didn’t have any idea just HOW messed up he was until he started flipping out. She thought to herself, “I should have known he was too good to be true!”
    Sonja also knew that he looked like a badass, and that her chances of survival would be better if she could stick with him for a while, so she was willing to try anything to calm him down.
    “Or was he, like, I don’t know, the size of a donkey?” She asked.
    Jango looked confused, as the ugly purple color began to leave his face, and the bulging veins returned to normal.
    “N-n-n-no,” he stammered, readjusting back to his usual state of semi-normalcy. “He, the dog I mean, he was as big as a horse. He looked like a Rottweiler. He said that some nasty shit was coming, and I had to be ready. He kept telling me I freed him. He bit the hell out of me, I mean; he shook me like crazy and tossed me against the building like I was a rat or something. I managed to get up, and then I shot him a WHOLE bunch of times, full mag, and they just slid right off his fur. The dog and the albino kept flickering, too, like a bad movie or something.”
    He started thinking about that, about the actual possibility of there being something in this world that could actually withstand gunfire with its bare skin.
    “Huh!” Jango grunted in epiphany. He had it figured out!
    “Okay, Sonja, check this out, and let me know what you think,” he said, talking fast so he wouldn’t forget what he was thinking.
    “This weird zombie thing, like, the “Z-Virus” or whatever. It infects everybody , okay?” Jango pushed on with his theory, “Some people kick right away, and turn into goobers, but some people don’t. Like the old lady at the hotel, and me, and you, too”
    He began pacing, thinking feverishly about the possibilities. He continued talking. “But even though we didn’t croak right away, we still have the Z-Virus pumping through our veins. The proof is in the pudding, or in that old lady, anyway. I killed her, and then about 45 minutes after I gacked her, she was a zombie!”
    He kept going with his theory on the dog and the albino. “So if we all got sick, right? Some of us went full-on goober right away, and some of us have some immunity or something. But we still would have gotten sick, right?” He finished up, “Maybe I was sick and I imagined, or I hallucinated the giant dog and his high kicking bitch. Doesn’t that make more sense than a giant bulletproof dog? Nothing made out of meat is bulletproof, ipso-facto; the fucking dog was bullshit!!” Jango was smiling and happy, or at least as close to happy as he could get without an enemy in front of him.
    “Did you get sick at all, Sonja?” he asked her in calm, soothing tones.
    Sonja thought about it for a moment. She did get sick, a pretty bad fever, around the time the Zombies started showing up , but she was more focused on what Jango had just said, and not the part about them all being infected. He had just admitted to killing an old woman! “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she thought to herself.
    “Soooone-YA,” Jango sang, “Did YOU get sick?”
    “Yeah, I mean, yes…Yes I did,” she stuttered, trying not to picture him killing her in all kinds of horrible ways.
    “Are you okay,” he asked her as he sniffed at the air, “Because you look like shit right now, kind of pasty-yellow, and you stink like fear.”
    Jango suddenly jumped back, away from her. “Are you sick now?” He asked her. “Did you get bit somewhere?”
    “What ?” Sonja shouted, “Am I sick?”