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“Well, it’s the most important, isn’t it? And I’m pretty sure you know a lot about me already. No need to bore you.”
“Oh, I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you around.”
She winked and grinned. He threaded his fingers with hers and led her back to his bike. A few minutes later, they passed through the gates and he parked in his usual spot. Now a pro, she exited the bike and took off her helmet to look around.
“Wow, this place is cool,” she said.
“It’s not root-beer-factory cool, though.”
She waggled a finger at him. “I did not say that. Don’t be putting words in my mouth, Mr. Lincoln.”
“It’s Mr. Rollison. Linc Fucking Rollison.”
They turned, and two men walked up to them. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t even begin to describe them. The taller one had something cynical and bleak lurking in his eyes. Not evil, but certainly not sunshine and roses. The other one terrified her a little.
Lincoln leaned down to whisper in Vivi’s ear. “That’s not my middle name.”
“Good to know,” she whispered back.
“Vivi, this ugly bastard is Ghost,” he said pointing to Mr. Gloom and Doom. “The crazy bastard is Ares. Guys, this is Vivi Wence.”
“She looks twelve,” Ghost remarked. An unlit cigarette hung out the side of his mouth.
“I’m legal,” she stated, putting her hands on her hips. “I can buy alcohol.”
“Good for you, shrimp.” He smirked and patted her on her head. She smacked his hand away. “Boss wants to see you, Lincoln.”
Irritation filled him, and Lincoln pushed Ghost back. “Hands off.”
“You called dibs already?” Ares asked.
“She was on the back of my bike, asshole, or did you miss that part?”
“Guys,” Vivi said. “All good humor aside, I do have to point out a very obvious flaw in the design of your club. The walls.”
“The walls?” Ghost asked, tilting his head.
“Yes, the walls,” she confirmed. “You need to make them higher.”
“Higher?” Now he sounded like a parrot. “What for?”
“You shouldn’t have asked that question,” Lincoln muttered.
“Zombies,” she replied. Ghost blinked and Ares snickered as he shot a questioning glance toward Lincoln, who only shrugged. “Why don’t you bikers ever think of zombies? When the Apocalypse comes, you’ll thank me. I’m not quite sure if they’ll be likeThe Walking DeadorWorld War Z, although I tend to think the former. So, the only safe bet on security is higher walls. Maybe some barbed wire at the top. Should we talk to your president?”
“I’m … I’m … confused?”
“I get that a lot, but let me ask you this. Would you rather fight against a hundred chicken-sized zombies or a hundred zombie-sized chickens?” she asked, glancing back and forth between the two men.
“Wouldn’t that just be human-sized chickens?” Lincoln asked.
“Technically maybe,” she replied. “But zombies usually are hunched over like this.” She hunched over, mimicking a very bad Hollywood movie version.
“Do the chicken zombies run fast? Because that must be a factor in any decision,” Lincoln said as he secured their helmets to hang off the handlebars.
“If there’s one thing I learned fromPlants Versus Zombies, it’s that small zombies are always fast,” she said. “Besides, have you ever met a chicken? Those things will fuck you up.”
“Then I guess my answer is a hundred human-sized chickens. Bigger targets to hit.”
