(http://www.tribute.ca/tribute_objects/images/stars/cherry_jones.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">CLAIRE ANDERSON</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Driving west and north through Wellington<br/><strong>With:</strong>Lilly, Olivia, Marcus and Desi. Seeing John on his bike.<br/><br/>What happened next unfolded quickly. While the centre of Wellington had been reasonably quiet with most of the walkers apparently on the east side near the freeway ramps and the gas stations, after coming back through the quiet centre of town, here, on the north west side things were clearly busy. Someone had disturbed them and we began to catch signs of them moving inside houses and in the gardens. A few awkwardly and clumsily climbed over picket fences and lurched onto the road.<br/><br/>Ahead of us I saw a new sight; a man on a bicycle, pedalling furiously. Perhaps he had been the source of the sound and had drawn these former townsfolk to him? Whatever had caused the zombies to become restless the man was going to be in trouble at the end of the road where the hill steepened and turned west. It would be hard pedalling up that slope with these monsters staggering after him.<br/><br/>I called out to the other car occupants what I’d seen. By the way they were already reacting I guessed we all saw the cycling figure at about the same time.<br/><br/><strong>“Survivor! On a bike! On the right! One o’clock!”</strong><br/><br/>I accelerated and drew up to the man who looked like he was in a pilot’s military flight suit. He had a large bag on his back that looked heavy. His pursuers were only fifty yards behind.<br/><br/><strong>“Marcus – have you much ammo in that gun of yours? I’m going to drive past this guy and swing the car across the road. When he passes us, we take down his pursuers, okay?”</strong><br/><br/>As we drew level with the frantic cyclist I opened the window on Marcus’ side and called across to the pilot.<br/><br/><strong>“Hey, friend! We’re friendly! Friendlies! Keep going! We’ll stop up ahead and take out the zeds. Stop behind my car.”</strong><br/><br/>I then floored the big police cruiser. Its V8 roared into life and 100 yards further on I braked hard and slewed its nose right, then left against a dirt bank. I dived out of my door and ran around the back of the vehicle to take up a firing position kneeling in the road. I heard Marcus’s door open as well.<br/><br/>The cyclist came up to us, still pedalling hard. His pursuers, three of them, were gaining.<br/><br/><strong>“Let him get by and let the range drop. Make every shot count. I’ve got the right hand one.”</strong><br/><br/>I braced my revolver in both hands, arms locked and straight, my right shoulder pressing against the spare tyre on the cruiser’s tailgate. I lined up the sights on the nearest zombie and waited for it to get closer.