What happens when a college dropout accidentally opens up the portal to HELL in his soup? Shenanigans of course! Now, James must team up with a flamboyant scarecrow, a jaded witch, an overzealous knight, and a virgin succubus to lock away what he's...
Orgies of the flesh, sounds nice, huh? Well, maybe not when it involves getting your face chewed up like a sweet bit of maple bacon. After only two months of being on the force, Private Williams had his fair share of cats stuck in trees, cranky old ladies, and that one guy who keeps parking in handicap spaces. Seriously, fuck that guy. But never in his life would Williams imagine being smack dab in the middle of a good old-fashioned zombie apocalypse. That's right, straight out of the movies and into his own backyard, the sleepy little town of Beach Hollow. Which has absolutely no relation to Sleepy Hollow or its uncanny spookiness.
Dozens of questions swirled in Williams's mind, like, "Where did these zombies come from?" and, "Why are furries so damn sexy?" But there was no time to linger on such pressing questions; a rather vicious bite wound in his left bicep made sure of that. And praying to all the gods he could possibly think of, Williams hoped it wasn't like the movies. If he's going out, it was going to be as flashy as possible. Despite his prior grievances about cats and pricks, they don't sound too bad right now.
There were a few too many bacon eaters shambling in the middle of the road for Williams's taste. Oh shit, was that poor little Molly among them? She probably didn't have enough time this morning to finish her breakfast cereal, judging by the bent spoon hanging loosely in her small hand.
Williams scanned the area in a frenzy, searching for some way to sneak around the growing horde. He spotted a small opening he could slip through undetected, right in the alley between the pharmacy and Jerry's coffee shop. Oh, gods... Jerry. That poor sap didn't deserve what he got. Who gives a man a toaster on his wedding day? And he really didn't deserve to have his intestines slurped like spaghetti.
Snapping back to reality, Williams found himself inside a dark alley. He cursed himself for spacing out, rookie mistake. No sign of the bacon eaters; luck was on his side for now. Good, because his left arm is killing him, probably actually killing him. Biting back the searing pain in his arm, Williams checked how many rounds were left in his trusty Glock, seven rounds, almost a full magazine.
Could be worse.
He slammed the mag back into his handgun and pulled the slide back with a satisfying clack. Williams took a step forward, and then something rattled. The sound reverberated loudly against the alley walls. A soda can rolled to a gentle stop. Williams held his breath and froze, listening for any sudden movements in the darkness. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. When Williams wiped his eyes, he heard a rustle.
Shit.
From the shadows, a horde of bacon eaters emerged. Their grisly sight filled Williams with unadulterated terror. In a panicked frenzy, the policeman squeezed a few rounds into the nearest attacker. The bullets slammed into the bacon eater's chest, sending the undead monster careening into the concrete. Then it rose and joined the others.
And, as quickly as they came, the creatures devoured Williams in a circus of torn flesh and agonizing screams.
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