Zombies VS Bikers

apart. He reached over his handlebars and pulled the door open, walking his bike in far enough to allow those behind him to do the same.
The door opened into a large area with pallet after pallet on the floor and large shelving that ran up the walls. The pallets had obviously been gone through for goods. The only ones that looked untouched to Big Mack were ones with electronics and children’s toys. Even the pallets that had held pet food looked pretty picked over. It amazed Big Mack to think some stupid yuppies were so concerned about their pets in a world where the dead came back to life to eat the living. Most of the lights were off in the stock room, besides smaller emergency lights hanging high up on the wall. There seemed to be two exits from the large stock room, a set of swinging double doors that led to a sales floor that was almost completely darkened, and a single swinging door that looked to be barricaded, judging by the slight view Big Mack could get through the small plastic window cut into the door. He guessed if there was anyone living in this place, they’d be behind the barricaded door.
Big Mack climbed off his hog, still holding his shotgun, and was met by everyone else at the barricaded door. “I guess we just push it open,” he said.
“Sounds good to me,” Bard agreed, and all nine of the Jesters, plus Shelly pushed against the door. The door slid open an inch before stopping and Big Mack called for everyone to stop.
“Hold on now, they got this door stopped up tight, but that can’t be the only way to get into wherever they’re at.”
“What about the roof?” Toga asked.
“What about it, Toga?” Slim said.
“No, I get what he’s saying, there’s got to be a way to get up on the roof, and maybe it lets down somewhere past this door,” Big Mack said as he nodded. “You think there’s a ladder or something out there?”
“Only one way to find out,” Jester said, sliding his soft cover guitar case from his back. “Keep Betsy safe for me, will ya Mack?”
Big Mack rolled his eyes and took the guitar case. “Slim; go with him, will ya?”
“Yeah,” Slim said, walking back to his bike and pulling a handgun from one of the saddle bags. “Ready.”
“Alright, let’s hit it,” Bard said, grabbing his gun and taking the lead. He went to the door they had come in from and pushed it open a few inches. He glanced back at Slim and the men nodded to one another. Bard put his shoulder to the door, flinging it open quickly and he slid out into the blinding sunlight, with Slim hot on his heels.
Slim let the door swing shut on its own accord behind him, already lifting his hand gun and taking aim at one of the two ghouls they had seen when they first entered the building. Now the zombies were much closer, their heads swiveling towards the two men, their slender jaws beginning to work, their rotted teeth clicking together in almost perfect unison. The nearest ghoul lifted his one remaining arm, his fingers thin and skeletal, all but one of the fingernails were missing. The zombie behind him rushed forward so quickly he bumped into the one armed zombie, who fell to the ground with a groan, landing flat on his face. Bard stepped forward and slammed the stock of his rifle into the standing zombie’s face, grinning triumphantly as the things nose broke with a satisfying snap. The zombie fell back, and would have certainly fallen if he hadn’t hit the brick wall of the Wal-Mart first. His feet were just quick enough to keep himself upright, and he bounded back after bumping the wall, managing to slide dry and brittle fingers across Bards face before the Biker slammed the butt of his weapon into the ghouls face once more.
The zombie’s face crumpled inwards instantly, one of his eyes popping from its socket and falling through the air. The one armed zombie was struggling to sit up, still working his jaw furiously. The two living men watched with revulsion was the eyeball fell straight into the one armed zombies mouth, where he quickly bit into it, popping the thing like a balloon. A yellow creamy substance came spilling from the eyeball, sliding out past the one armed ghouls lips and running down his chin as he finally managed to sit up.
“Fucking disgusting things,” Slim said as he stepped forward, pressing his gun to the one armed zombie’s forehead.
“No! Don’t!” Bard said, a moment too late. The gun shot was deafening, the sound bouncing from the rear of the building and to a long wall that separated the Wal-Mart from the highway beyond.
“Fuck, you idiot. They’ll have heard that from two states away.”
“Shit, sorry,” Slim said. Bard shook his head, clearly annoyed.
“Come on, let’s find the damned ladder.”
The two men started off, skirting the back of the massive building, looking for any sign of a way to make it onto the roof. They passed a large loading bay built into the center of the building and finally they saw it; a spindly metal ladder that had once been silver but was now red with rust.
“Should we go up?” Slim asked.
“I think so,” Bard said, pointing forward where a group of undead was shuffling around the corner. Bard glanced over his shoulder and saw more coming up from the way they had come.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Slim said.
“Forget it,” Bard said, pushing the man forward and onto the ladder. Bard followed Slim up the ladder, clutching the thing with clammy hands, closing his eyes every time the ladder creaked or swayed under their steps, which was often.
“I’m not so sure about this thing,” Slim called over his shoulder, stopping half way up the ladder.
“Just keep climbing dumbass!” Bard called to the man above him. He risked a glance downwards, his heart