�The world has ended good listeners. The dead have risen from their graves with gnashing yellow teeth and they want to tear our asses off.� The voice on the truck radio crackled.
�Come on, can�t we turn that lunatic off,� Brent pleaded.
�No,� Logan said flatly. �His show is the only thing on the air. I know he�s nuts but he�s the only news we have of what�s happening out there.�
Brent gripped the steering wheel tighter as he gunned the truck down the narrow gravel road towards town. �How do you know he�s not just locked in some basement somewhere making this shit up as he goes?�
Logan looked at Brent. �He was right about the virus or whatever the hell it is crossing species wasn�t he?�
Brent didn�t answer. The memory of the dead squirrels scrambling down the chimney of their cabin was too fresh in his head. Instead he asked, �So where am I taking us to Logan? Where am I supposed to be headed?�
Logan thought for a moment. �Just keep taking us towards town. If we�re going to have to kick some dead ass until we can figure out what to do, I�d rather it be human ones. At least with them it doesn�t feel like the world has gone completely insane.�
Brent laughed, nodding in agreement before he was flung forward in his seat. The whole truck shook as it slammed to a halt against its will. Logan�s face smashed into the dashboard, breaking his nose in the process. He sat up leaving a stain of blood on the plastic of the dash to see Brent franticly trying to undo the seatbelt which spared him injury. �Get out of the truck!� Brent screamed. �It�s still alive.�
Logan lifted his head, fighting against his body�s need to pass out, to see what Brent was screaming about. As he did, a massive, rotting paw broke through the windshield and literally ripped off his face.
�Oh God, oh God, oh God,� Brent prayed out loud as he bolted from the truck not even having time to snatch up his rifle. He heard the thing roar. The noise seemed loud enough to shake the ground as the thing bounded after him. Having lived in the woods most of his life, his instincts told him to play dead but somehow he doubted that would work when the damn bear was dead itself.
He tripped over something in the darkness and went tumbling to the ground. The grizzly was on him in an instant. Worms slithered through its decaying skin and one of the thing�s eyes dangled loosely from its socket as it raised one massive paw and tore Brent�s head from his body in a single swipe.
�This is truly the end times,� the voice on the truck radio seemed to echo in the woods. �May God have mercy on us all,� it called out as the grizzly feasted on Brent�s still warm flesh.
