Daily Archives: March 7, 2016

Tonight’s Walking Dead

SPOILERS!

Super violent episode tonight.  Rick and Co. took on “The Saviors.”

They’d never tangled with this group before, but the Hilltop people had been forced into servitude to them.

Rick and the gang agreed to take out the Saviors in exchange for regular food payments from the Hilltop.

They reason that if they don’t, then the Saviors will eventually attack them.

Obviously, some parallels to today’s world.  There are some who argue that it is necessary to take out bad groups, regimes, etc who are wreaking havoc before they get out of control and there are others who say we should mind our own business and don’t attack unless we’re attacked first.

Are preemptive strikes a good or bad idea?  Did the group cross the line?

What say you, 3.5 readers?

By the way, JB Smoove is a hilarious guest on tonight’s Talking Dead.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 60

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Miss Bonnie dismounted her impromptu steed. Miles ripped the door to the Marshall’s office off its hinges. He walked in and sniffed. The place smelled of Slade but he wasn’t there.

Miles cringed. There was a new voice in his brain. It was low and menacing. Hewitt.

“Where are you boy?”

He clutched his paws around his head, hoping in vain this would make it stop. It didn’t.

“Why don’t you give up?  You’re just making things worse for yourself.”

Miles roared. Miss Bonnie was baffled, unsure what was wrong with her new friend. She ransacked the office, looking for anything that could help. When she opened up the desk drawers, she found the jackpot. Lots of ammo boxes. She found an old burlap sack in the corner and filled it.

“You don’t need to go out like your old man,” Hewitt said. “Join up with Legion and there will be some money in it for you. Don’t be a chump like your father.”

Another roar. Miles dropped to his knees. He wanted to scream “Get it out, get it out!” but he couldn’t speak openly in werewolf form. He curled up in a ball, hugged his knees and rocked back and forth until he was human again.

The transformation stunned Miss Bonnie. “How did you…”

Heavy footsteps pounded across the roof. A human Miles stood up and put his hand over Miss Bonnie’s mouth.

“Shhh!”

With startled eyes, the pair looked up at the ceiling. Thump…thump…thump went Hewitt’s feet, rattling the boards above their heads.

Two Winchesters hanged on the wall, the property of Slade and Gunther, respectively. Miles grabbed them and laid them out on the desk.

“Load this,” Miles whispered as he handed the redhead one of the rifles.

Miss Bonnie opened up the bag and took out a box of cartridges. Miles stopped her and pointed to the bandolier that was hanging over her shoulder, across her chest.

“With those,” the boy whispered.

Miss Bonnie nodded. She took a bullet out of the bandolier. The shiny silver tip caught her eye. She loaded the rifle to capacity.

THUMP! More footsteps.

Miles pointed to the ceiling, then to his head, then to his heart. Miss Bonnie’s face scrunched up in bewilderment. The boy repeated the motions. The redhead nodded, getting the gist that only a head or heart shot with a silver bullet would do the trick against the monster that was hunting them.

The footsteps stopped. A set of sharp nails dragged their way across the wall behind Slade’s desk. Miss Bonnie and Miles recoiled back to the opposite wall, huddling together quietly. They were in a panic to be sure, but were too scared to say anything about it.

A few seconds passed. Miles began to wonder if his foe had given up and left.

SMASH! A pair of paws crashed through the wall. One grabbed Miles, the other grabbed Miss Bonnie and with tremendous force, they were pulled through the wall and out into the night air.

Hewitt tossed Miss Bonnie aside, deciding to make Miles his first victim. Miss Bonnie dropped her rifle as she flew through the air, only to land in the dirt. Her body ached with pain and was covered with cuts, scrapes and bruises.

She looked up. The wolf man had Mile’s throat in his paw and was holding the boy in the air, squeezing tighter and tighter. Miles thrashed his feet to and fro wildly as he struggled to release himself. It was no use.

Miss Bonnie stood up and found the rifle. She yanked the lever to rack up a bullet. She looked down the sights at Hewitt’s big furry head.  She could only see the side.

“Hey asshole!” she shouted.

Hewitt turned around to face her.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Miss Bonnie squeezed the trigger. A hole opened up right between Hewitt’s yellow eyes. His hand released Miles and he along with Hewitt’s hairy carcass tumbled to the ground.

She ran over and helped Miles up.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Miles said.
They returned to the office to gather up the bag of ammo and the other rifle.

“You can turn yourself into one of those things whenever you want?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“Yes,” Miles said. “I’m a werewolf.”

“So why didn’t you?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a very good one,” Miles said.

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