Amazed by the stupidity of the man that he had easily kept up with, he responded, "I've got eight bullets for my .357. Could you be any fucking dumber, or do you just have a death wish? You've got a wrench, it gives you maybe a foot of reach, and you think that we're properly prepared to trigger the ambush that you just did? Really, I never want to be running point with you again, going in, I would have gone along with, triggering the fucking goon squad and not even knowing what I have or being properly prepared yourself...Fucktard."<br/><br/>After ranting, his pistol drawn and loaded, the spare two shells of his six-shooter jingling in his pocket, he put the bike in front of him and took a wide stance, ready to fire upon the shambling charge that was coming their way.<br/><br/>"Oh, and while I'm still alive and pissed, your little whistle shit could have just as easily called out zombies from all around us."<br/><br/>And at that cue, a moan from behind sounded.<br/><br/>"Fuck!"