Tuesday, November 22, 2011


I was nervous as the next guy. I mean, meeting the leader of 'any' resistance group is a big deal. The GYPSY GROUP has been around since day one. They surfaced after the zombies were a real problem, and even after the ASMZ made it clear who was in charge. I remember when I first found out about the GYPSY GROUP. I walked outside and noticed half the zombies shuffeling on my block had those 'now trademark' happy face bags over their heads. The zombies pockets were pulled out, and chained wallets were dangling to their knees.

Oddest thing I had ever seen... well.. since zombies started eating my neighborhood. I had an interview a few months back with one of the GYPSY GROUP members. He didnt want his name out, and probably for a good reason. They GYPSY GROUP is who brings me all my intel. There are people in the community that do a good job too, but they GYPSY'S have direct and precise information about key things.

I know there is always more to know, but what they bring to the table has to be respected. On with my journey.

I left my house at around 2:00 pm on Friday. I rode my motorcycle to town and had lunch with my wife. She has protected covered parking at her job which is good. Zombies dont really have a desire to struggle or adventure out. So a ramp up into a parking lot wont excite them unless there is food. My bat was secure on my back. The pouch my son made works really well. I do have to be carefull for the nails at the end though. But yea, the bat is very effective while driving downtown Houston. One crack and the zombs go down. Especially if I'm doin' 30 or more mph. I've learned to put my face shield down on my helmet. Gets pretty messy otherwise.. Im rambling.

Lunch was good with my wife. Where she works there is an elevator that leads down into the 'basement' of Houston. Its called THE TUNNEL. Not the most welcoming place. They have huge thick doors blocking off certain areas in case of flooding, or other horrific things. Like zombies.. It was my first time down there. I noticed doors leading off down hallways that werent labeld and strange men walking around expressionless. My wife says its because they're always down there, maybe causing a social disorder? I think they're aliens.. But what do I know.

Anyway... Lunch was over and I was full. I kissed my wife and she warned me of the dangers of my journey. Thats her job. It was annoying at first but it would suck if nobody cared right?

I pulled out of Houston on my bike. Rumbling through the narrow buildings that reached the clouds. Houston was pretty despit the screaming women and bums rising from the dead. The new art of downtown were the shopping carts that are used as barracades. They can stack those things higher than I thought possible!!

I drove and drove until I reached Huntsville, the supposed capital of Texas for ZOMBIE HUNTING.. Ironony in the name right? I stopped at the gas station to fill up my bike and didn't see one zombie..... anywhere. There were no screaming people, no running children, no crazy one shot heros finally realizing that its do or die... nothing. I pumped my gas with a most uneasy feeling on my soul. I went in to pay the lady and asked what the deal was. Apparently, guns were made leagal and available to all citizens providing they werent already a risk to the community. Pot was leagal and taxed and Gambling was on the table for debate to bring in.. Everything I didn't expect. I was almost glad to get back to reality.

The road to College Station was beautiful. Hills and twists made the ride fun. There were only a few burning cars on the way. I used to wonder how in the world in apocolyptic movies, were 'all' the cars burning? Surley they didnt 'all' have bad engines? Turns out, if your going to die, or you just dont want to give back to anyone that might have survived the zombies, burn your ride. It ensures you 'not' turning into a flesh eater, and destroys all your goods.. pretty spiteful if you chose the latter. But I cant really dog on the last wishes of a human turning into a zombie

I arrived.

College Station was almost exactly how I imagined it. Lots and lots of pretty people. I started to wonder if this is why the leader of the largest zombie and government resistance group in the world chose to reside. Coinsidence? I think not.. Way too many hot people to ignore :)

I gave a quick call to my family to let them know I was there. My wife said things were quiet and happy at home, just wishes I was there. Thats good to hear in times like these. Really good. We exchanged a few inappropriate texts and agreed to check back in after my meeting with the GYPSY GROUP.

Just as I tucked my phone back in my pocket, I felt a buzz. It was my phone. I pulled it out and didnt see a number, just a message that said "DONT MOVE, STAY THERE". Not knowing the consequence of choosing either to leave or stay, I took my bike and hid behind a Credit Union building. My phone rang. I answered. The voice said to stay put and an informant would meet me there, to follow him back to the address.

Soon, a man on a bike pulled up. Kawasaki Cruiser. Nice. Loud. Louder than mine and more decked out. I was immediately jealous. Without saying anything, he pointed in a direction with two fingers. We pulled out of the parking lot of the Credit Union and made our way South down the feeder of HWY 6 in College Station. We exited approximately 4 or 5 exits from where we originated and turned into the most confusing neighborhood I've ever been in.. This is when things got hairy..


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