"Well, come on, help me!" Alex held the wrench like a sword and jabbed it forward into the forehead of the old fat man, splattering the frontal lobe, where the virus was concentrated, killing the zombie. "Grab something that doesn't waste ammo and get cracking! I've got some knives in my backpack, just stick them through their eye sockets and twist!" he shouted at Thom, knowing from experience that it was an effective maneuver. He retreated back toward his bike, waiting for the teens and one-armed zombie from inside Walmart to come to him. "I love that they're so slow we don't even need to run to get away from them, we can just walk. It's like trying to outrun a person with a prosthetic leg and no cane." he smiled. "That's our one saving grace against them, if nothing else."