Way out in the boonies on a farm, there was this low-slung bungalow that looked like a derelict warehouse.

  Right then, the iron gate was clamped shut tighter than a drum, and a handful of survivors were holed up inside that dingy warehouse.

  There were five guys and one gal.

  They were a ragged bunch, all skin and bones, and it was plain as day they hadn't had a decent meal in ages.

  Around the house, the grass within spitting distance was all worn away, leaving nothing but bare, yellow earth.

  But further out, the turf was still as green as could be.

  Muffled voices seeped out of the bungalow.

  “There ain't no more noise from the woods. The wolf howls have gone quiet. You reckon someone took care of that monster?”

  The woman with a rat's nest of hair and cheeks so sunken you could park a truck in them wheezed weakly.

  A scrawny fella was gnawing on a tuft of grass in sheer desperation.

  “Useless. Nobody's coming to save our sorry butts. We could rot and stink to high heaven here and nobody'd be the wiser.”

  When they first rolled up, they knew there were oodles of cattle and sheep grazing around and thought they'd take a shot at snagging some grub.

  But when they got there, not a single cow or sheep in sight, just blood and animal fur strewn all over the ground.

  They were about to skedaddle when a wolf the size of a bull barreled out of the woods up ahead and blocked their path.

  They put two and two together and figured out what happened to all that blood and hair.

  That darn wolf must've wolfed down every last critter on the farm.

  They were no match for the beast.

  A couple of their pals met a grisly end, torn apart in its jaws.

  They managed to scramble into this warehouse, fighting tooth and nail for their lives.

  Thankfully, the warehouse was built like a tank, and they made it through.

  They survived by scarfing down the cattle and sheep feed in the warehouse.

  When that was gone, they were down to gnawing on grass and eating dirt.

  Despair hung in the air like a thick fog.

  It wasn't that they didn't want to make a break for it.

  They were scared spitless that the wolf would munch on them before they could hightail it off the farm.

  They didn't want to end up like their dead buddies, ripped to shreds and devoured alive.

  “Roast chicken! There's roast chicken!”

  A scruffy-bearded hombre's eyes suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

  He snatched up a wooden board and started chowing down.

  The splinters cut his mouth up good, blood gushing everywhere, but he was acting like he was feasting on filet mignon.

  Eventually, the wood chips clogged his throat and he puked blood and keeled over dead.

  The others were powerless to stop it.

  Their eyes welled up with sorrow.

  They knew it was a deathbed hallucination, and they could practically see their own doom looming.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  One of the rail-thin young guys snapped.

  He bolted out of the warehouse, hollering and screaming at the woods.

  “Ahhhh...”

  “Come and get me! I ain't scared of you! Come and chow down on me!”

  “Come and eat me! Come and eat me...”

  The heart-wrenching screams were so loud it felt like his lungs were about to burst.

  When the others in the warehouse saw the crazy kid, instead of yanking him back pronto, they were terrified out of their wits and slammed the warehouse door shut, locking him out.

  Hearing the ruckus from the woods, they panicked.

  “It's coming! The wolf's coming!”

  “The man-eating wolf is coming! He's a goner for sure!”

  The young fella outside was still shouting his head off.

  “Come on! Eat me! I'm not afraid of you...”

  The next second, just when everyone was shaking in their boots, thinking the wolf was about to pounce, they saw a military vehicle rumble out of the woods.

  At first, they were gobsmacked, couldn't believe their eyes.

  Then they were over the moon and came stampeding out of the warehouse, tripping over each other to get out.

  “Someone's here! We're saved!”

  “Thank the good Lord! We're finally getting out of this mess! Hallelujah!”

  “Ha ha ha... Finally, someone's come to our rescue!”

  “Look, why's the car turning? Isn't it coming to get us?” the woman screeched.

  Everyone was dumbfounded.

  They watched the military vehicle veer off and not head their way.

  At this point, the car screeched to a halt because the young guy stopped it.

  Everyone's hopes flared up again and they rushed over, swarming the car.

  The glass was tinted so dark they couldn't see who was inside.

  All they could do was pound on the window.

  “Open up! Take us with you!”

  “Save us! I'm starving. Give us some grub!”

  Inside the car.

  Billy Jean was riding shotgun, her brow furrowed slightly as she eyeballed the sorry-looking bunch outside who looked like they'd been through the wringer.

  She didn't go traipsing off to visit the man-eating crows' nest with Zompige anymore.

  Instead, she and Michael Joke were cruising back to the hotel.

  They'd been out all day and it was high time to head back.

  They had to stash her food stash before nightfall.

  Otherwise, if other zombies got wind of it and started hankering after it, she'd be fit to be tied.

  Who knew they'd get stopped by some stragglers... uh... people who seemingly popped up out of nowhere.

  “Open the door! Everyone, back off a bit,” the skinny guy hollered.

  Everyone shuffled back a step and watched as the door swung open and a man and a woman stepped out.

  Their jaws dropped.

  They'd never seen such classy folks, not even before the world went to pot.

  Since they were so easy on the eyes, they must be as kind-hearted as they come.

  “Scram,” a fierce female voice cut through the air, shattering their illusions.

  Everyone:!!

  This wasn't what they'd banked on.

  “If you don't clear out, I'll just run you over,”

  Billy Jean wasn't in the mood to waste any more breath and was about to hop back in the car.

  Everyone was flabbergasted that the other party could be so cold to their plight and flew into a rage.

  “Hey, you got no heart! Is this how you treat your fellow Americans? Has your conscience gone AWOL?” the skinny guy yelled.

  “Yeah, that's right. No humanity. Conscience gone AWOL.”

  “Seeing us in a bind, any decent person would lend a helping hand. She can be so icy. She's as cruel as a rattlesnake.”

  Everyone started ripping into her, playing the moral card like pros.

  Michael Joke's dark eyes narrowed.

  He was about to teach these yapping fools a lesson.

  But Billy Jean beat him to the punch.

  “I got no humanity, ha ha... Okay, then let me see how much heart you've got,”

  Billy Jean curled her lip in a scornful smirk.

  “I can only take one of you with me. As for who it is, you figure it out. Anyway, whoever tags along will be living the high life and strutting around even in this messed-up world.”

  As soon as Billy Jean dropped that bombshell, everyone's eyes lit up like Vegas neon.

  “Take me! Take me with you!”

  A guy shoved aside the fella who'd just spoken.

  “Take me! Take me! I'll be your slave, just give me a scrap to eat.”

  “Beat it! Nobody's cutting in on me.”

  The big bruiser kicked the other guy.

  “Damn it, you got the nerve to hit me! I'll take you down!”

  The guy lunged at the big man and they started tussling.

  “Knock it off! Stop! Let's not fall for this. This wicked woman just wants to see us at each other's throats. Why don't we team up and take them down?”

  The skinny guy hollered.

  The two grappling men froze.

  Yeah, if they joined forces and snatched the car and food, they'd be sitting pretty.

  Michael Joke snorted.

  “Wanna die? You asked for it!”

  Suddenly, a lightning-fast whip cracked through the air and the skinny guy went flying like a rag-doll.

  “Ahhhh...”

  The scream could've shattered glass.

  The others were scared stiff.

  Looking at the skinny guy sprawled ten yards away, not knowing if he was still kicking or not, they broke out in a cold sweat and didn't dare twitch a muscle.

  They'd really been shooting their mouths off in front of a superhuman.

  They were asking for trouble.

  “Made up your minds? I ain't got all day,” Billy Jean drawled.

  “Take me! Take me! I'll never double-cross you. I swear...”

  The guy's words were cut short by a searing pain in his chest.

  He stared in disbelief at the dagger sticking out of his heart.

  He pointed a trembling finger at the big man.

  “You...”

  “Competing with me? Drop dead.”

  The big man yanked out the dagger, his face a mask of rage.

  The guy croaked instantly, his eyes wide open.

  The big man threw back his head and laughed like a hyena.

  “See who else has the guts to cross me.”

  “Boom...”

  Suddenly, the big man's head took a helluva whack.

  Intense pain washed over him and he crumpled to the ground.

  Blood gushed into his eyes, turning his vision crimson.

  At the last moment of his life, he caught a glimpse of the person who'd blindsided him from behind.