It was absolute fucking chaos, men women, children screaming and shouting, zombies running after kids, soldiers shooting anything that moved, fires absolutely everywhere, the night was turning into a full scale war zone and horror story of its own making. The air was a thick, choking soup of black smoke and the copper tang of fresh blood, illuminated by the orange glare of burning cars and crumbling storefronts. Every corner of the city had become a slaughterhouse, where the living were hunted by the mindless dead and the desperate.

James moved through the madness like a predator in his own element, his eyes scanning the carnage for a specific target. He could hear the wet, slapping sound of feet hitting the pavement and the guttural, bone-chilling shrieks of the infected as they tore into the soft tissue of fleeing civilians. A soldier in tactical gear screamed as a cluster of walkers dragged him down, his rifle discharging into the air in a frantic, useless burst before the sounds of chewing and tearing drowned out his cries. James didn’t even flinch; he just stepped over a severed arm, his boots splashing through a puddle of gore.

He spotted his son and his friends and a couple of older people he didn’t recognize as they entered a barbers, James quickly made his way through the street and the crowd and opened the door and stepped in. The sudden transition from the roar of the street to the muffled interior of the shop was jarring, but the danger was just as immediate. His son was stepping away from a snarling woman, obviously infected, her jaw hanging by a thread of skin and her eyes clouded with a milky, dead film.

“Hey she bitch.” The woman stopped, snarled and turned around, James pointed his Stoeger Coach Gun at the once was a woman. “Let’s tango.”

She ran at him with a guttural hiss, her fingers clawing the air. James didn’t hesitate. He fired, the roar of the shotgun filling the small space, hitting her square in the head. The force of the blast was devastating; she flipped back face first onto the ground as blood and brain matter sprayed everywhere, painting the checkered floor and the nearby barber chairs in a visceral crimson.

“I’m here to kick ass and chew bubble gum.”

He felt the adrenaline surging, the thrill of the kill mixing with the chaos outside. He had one shot left before needing to reload.

“Dad behind you.”

James didn’t even look. He rested the barrel on his shoulder, heard the wet, raspy growl of another creature, and fired.

“And I’m all out of gum,” the body crashed backwards, its skull shattered by the lead. A man of Mexican descent walked towards them, hands up, his face etched with a mixture of terror and relief. “What’s your name?”

“Ofelia Salazar,” he was older than James, with a beard and a balding head, and tanned skin, evident of his parentage.

“Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Si.”

James pulled out Smith & Wesson M&P9 and handed it over. Ofelia took it with practiced ease, pulled back the slide, chambered a round and made sure the safety was on, he then tucked it into his belt and nodded.

“Groovy.”

“Dad where’d you get the gun?”

“I stole it,” James smiled, a dark, opportunistic glint in his eyes, “Where’s your mom?”

“In the back.”

“This is my boom stick,” James said, handing the shotgun to his son for a moment, “Keep it safe.”

His son nodded, clutching the heavy weapon.

“You know something?”

“No dad what?”

“With a dry cool wit like mine, I could be an action hero,” James winked. He turned away from the group and walked into the back where his ex-wife was, Elizabeth Ortiz. He smiled as he stepped in, and she looked up, her eyes wide with shock.

“James.”

They had been married a few years, six years to be precise and no matter how James had tried, he could not make it work, so they had gone their separate ways, but on relatively good terms. She stood up, her breath hitching in her throat.

“James you’re okay.”

“I was born for this baby,” he walked her back to the wall, the space narrowing between them. She stiffened, her back hitting the cold surface.

“James.”

“I’ve missed these,” he moved his hand up and gripped her breast firmly. She was fit, slim and slender with a banana shaped body type. Her distinct Nuyorican looks were what attracted him the first time around, as well as her maintained silky hair and smooth skin, shapely plus meaty thighs and legs, natural toned boobs, expressive personality and magnetic voice. James towered over her, standing at five foot eleven inches tall, she was breathing heavily, her chest heaving against his palm.

“James what are you doing?”

He started undoing her blouse, his movements confident and demanding. He had been keeping tabs on her, discreetly of course, using modern technology. He had blue jacked her phone, seen all of her messages, listened to her phones calls and even hacked her computer. He could watch her when no one was around and masturbated to her often. Of course his new wife wasn’t aware of this; James was if anything discreet. When she wasn’t around he would wank off to Eliza and when Madison was around, he fucked the shit out of her.