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I hoped she was dialing 911, not preparing to hang a shotgun around the corner to blast us. She saw us pointing pistols at two men bleeding on her floor, and one really obviously dead body, and then she ducked back down. The waitress/bartender, and I was realizing now probable owner, had stuck her head around the corner. The guy I’d shot in the stomach was making less noise. Kevin was still screaming, and that was getting on my nerves. I wasn’t trying to, but I was in a hurry.” “Eh…Maybe?” Trip looked a little embarrassed. He took in the mess, then shot the automaton in the base of the skull twice just to be sure. I turned back to the wounded bikers just as Baldy was reaching into his vest…only Milo got there before he could draw, and Baldy caught a Birkenstock to the face. Kevin screamed and climbed up onto his seat. And the undead hit the ground in a twitching heap, spraying ooze and soda. I shoved until the bottle got stuck, then I grabbed the automaton by the back of the head and slammed it facedown into our table, hard as I could, driving the Coke deep into its brain cavity. Thankfully it didn’t shatter in my hands. With these things you had to absolutely wreck their brains.īefore one of the cultists could shout the command to attack, I grabbed my still unopened bottle of Coke, and stabbed it right into the monster’s forehead, aiming for the bullet holes. 45 round damned near through the same hole. I shot it right between its sunken yellow eyes. And Lucinda was getting pretty good if she was building undead with enough grace to ride a bike. It was a stitched-together zombified automaton, Hood family recipe. You could mistake it for a living thing, if the light was really bad and you weren’t that close, but at conversational distance it was obviously a mess of patchwork body parts. The other swearing, but the command for their undead to activate must have been in there somewhere, because it whipped its head back and roared. “If you’re necromancers, the MCB can’t give me any shit for shooting you!” I hoped Kevin was taking notes, because these mopes had just gotten lawyered. I slid out of the booth, covering them with my pistol. Apparently it took the command to hold very literally. As they went crashing down, I shifted and put four holes in Hoodie, but whatever it was, it didn’t react.
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Beardly took one in the gut and another to the knee. Baldy got hit in the thigh and twice in the pelvis. I just pointed it in their general direction and started yanking the trigger. I couldn’t aim from under the table, but at this range, it didn’t matter much. If you’re necromancers, it means legally I can do this-” “Lucinda Hood must really be hard up for muscle these days to recruit you brainiacs. I guess at this point, people were usually quaking at their scary pet monster and begging for mercy, not getting lippy over definitions.