"No Mad Dog, what's up with the Tonfa's?" Terry asks, his mouth notmatching up with his words again.
"They ain’t right man, I was in the alley behind Mr. Hand's bar when a bunch of those Tonfa's went in there and started fucking people up man.Girls were screaming and guys were dying man. They were eating them! Iseen 'em through the back door, and I took off running," Mad Dog says."Eating them? Come on man, your drunk Mad Dog," Terry says his lips barely moving at all and not in sync again."I'm afraid, he is telling the truth Terry," says a voice from the openwindow of the black Cadillac limo stopped in the street."Say man, what's up P-Funk? You know something about all this?"Terry asks, his mouth almost moving right with his words."As a matter of fact, I do some of the Tonfa's made off with a few of my girls and fucked up some johns man, I grabbed the last four and we areheading uptown till all this shit blows over man. Watch yourself Terry these boys are on something weird, it's making 'em crazy," P-Funk says.Terry watches the limo pull away for a second and looks around MadDog is nowhere in sight. Down the street however Terry watch four shapesemerge from an alley and start walking his way. They are all wearingsleeveless jean jackets and black t-shirts, Terry has a feeling all of them havea back patch sewn into their jackets that reads Tonfa's.There were no words spoken, but Terry stands there watching themapproach for a few seconds and then starts walking towards them. Theyspread out as they approach two stay on the side-walk and two walk on theedge of the street as they get closer. About twelve feet away they walk under the street light overhead and Terry sees what everyone is talking aboutfinally. All of them are gray, with black blood vessels beneath their skin,their eyes are glazed over with a white film. They are all dead. Thisrealization hits him as they raise their arms, moan and shuffle slightly faster toward him.Closing the distance with the one on his far left Terry spins around in a blur of motion and his spinning clenched ham-sized fist connects with theTonfa's jaw. A bone-shattering crunch is heard as the dead punk spins downto the sidewalk, in a bloody denim heap. Terry spins around the oppositeway and his left foot arcs upward connecting with the next closest one's rightear. The skull of the thing collapses around the converse as the force of the