Author's Note: Sadly, this will not be as hilarious as the movie. Try as I might, I couldn't get a grip on the humor. I failed horribly. So instead, you'll get some cheesy moments and a lot more drama. Hope you enjoy.

They tried to talk him out of it.

He didn't listen.

They called it suicide.

It was supposed to feed his hunger.

But by the time they made it anywhere close to a Super Wall-Mart, there was no telling how many Zombies were following them.

He was just determined to get his Twinkie.

And soon they were no longer just looking for a yellow Hostess product; they were fighting for their lives.

Because nothing get's between Tallahassee and his Twinkies.

Wichita glanced briefly out the sliding glass doors and grimaced. "You know, somehow I think 'I told you so'," she threw Tallahassee a scowl, "just doesn't quite cut it."

"Don't start." Tallahassee cocked his small sawed off shotgun and surveyed his surroundings. They had searched for the better half of an hour for a Twinkie, but apparently Super Wall-Mart was cheaper than he'd expected. The hostess product was nowhere to be found and upon their exit, they had run into a fair amount of Zombies that had come from God knows where, cutting off their escape to the yellow Hummer.

Now they were currently shut up in the store, trying to figure out an exit strategy.

"We could stay here," Little Rock suggested. "They have video games."

"Well now that you put it that way," Tallahassee said sarcastically, "why don't we just stay here. I mean, Little Rock is right. We have video games. What more can we ask for?"

The twelve year old put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Just because this place doesn't have any Twinkies, doesn't mean you have to be such an ass about it."

Tallahassee eyed her and then glanced to Wichita.

"What?" the older sister asked.

"She just called me an ass," Tallahassee stated.

Wichita lifted an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

"She just called me an ass," Tallahassee repeated. "Where's the discipline? You should be teaching her to respect her elders."

"I don't see how she can respect you when you're always acting like a five-year-old."

He took a step forward. "Hey, now I take offense to that. I don't act like a five-year-old."

"You risked our lives for a…" Wichita grimaced, "…Twinkie."

"Rule # 32: Enjoy the Little Things."

"Yes, I understand that," her voice was even, one she usually reserved for small children or kids with learning difficulties. "But it's kind of hard to 'enjoy the little things' when you have some carnivorous zombie making a snack out of your leg!"

"Look at you, taking shots at your boyfriend's survival rules," the older man grinned. "That's not very girlfriend like." He loved to tease her about her relationship with Columbus. About how she finally got the 'peppy little spit-fuck' to first base.

Wichita scowled and turned her gaze to Columbus. He'd been extremely quiet for the past couple of minutes, which wasn't surprising. He never really liked confrontations. "Columbus," she put a hand on his arm, "what do you think?"

He blinked, startled, and looked around. "Well, when in doubt, know your way out."

"Not to be Mr. Negativity here, but our way out is that-a-way," Tallahassee pointed out the locked sliding glass doors to the massive horde of Zombies on the other side.

"There's a back way out," Columbus said. "There always is."

"But we have no car out back," Little Rock imputes. "We won't get far once they realize what we're doing."

"At least we'll get away," Wichita argued.

"Nuh-uh. No way," Tallahassee was shaking his head. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving the H3."

"It's just a car," Wichita said.

Tallahassee glared at the brunette. "You know, I really don't like you."

Wichita snorted gracelessly. "Imagine what that means to me."

The older man ignored the comment. "I'm starting to like the munchkin's idea of staying here. We keep the car and they can't get—" He was interrupted by the shattering of glass. The four turned to the sliding glass doors. The first barrier of glass was in a million pieces, while the second already had greedy, blood stained zombie prints on it.

Wichita glared at Tallahassee. "You jinxed it," she said flatly, before whipping her head around as another spine shivering shatter sounded through the Super Wall-Mart.

"Scatter!" Tallahassee bellowed as the last barrier of glass was shattered with a shopping cart. He whipped out his sawed off shotgun and blasted the first zombie that emerged through the hole. The carnivorous monsters just kept coming, which was good and bad. On the up side, he could bottleneck them and hopefully plug up the hole with their dead bodies. On the down side, his sawed off shotgun only had so many rounds, and he would run out sooner or latt—Click. "Fuck!" he dropped the gun and reached for the shotgun in the holster on his back.

A zombie broke free from the group entering the Super Wall-Mart, getting through the hole in the glass doors and sprinted towards him. He wouldn't pull the gun free in time. Gritting his teeth, he readied himself for hand to hand, but before the zombie could reach him, a loud crack sounded from behind Tallahassee.

The zombies head snapped back and it dropped to the white floor, dead.

Turning, Tallahassee found Little Rock, gun knocked against her shoulder. She fired at another zombie and then locked with his eyes. "Now would be a very good time to run."

-XxX-

Wichita fired off a few rounds before turning tail and following Columbus. One rule on her dorky boyfriend's survival list was flashing in the back of her mind, and although she wasn't out of shape, her cardio had been severely tested recently.

And speaking of cardio, Columbus was losing her. The curly haired man disappeared down an aisle ahead of her so fast; she feared a zombie had gotten him. The zombie in the lead behind her must have shared the same cardio as her boyfriend, because the undead was gaining on her. Fast.

With an aggravated yell she fueled her legs faster, and glanced back over her shoulder. The zombie behind her was gaining ground, numerous stragglers following. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Columbus. He had a baseball bat in his hand and was hiding in the sports aisle ahead of her; she'd just caught the sight of his curly brown hair. Just before she reached him, Wichita dropped to the floor and Columbus swung. The lead zombie, who wore a red Nike t-shirt, ran straight into Columbus' swing. His head snapped back with a loud Crack!

Still on the floor, Wichita rounded on the stragglers and laid into them with her shotgun. Columbus dropped the bat and followed her lead with his double barrel. When he clicked empty two shots later, she finished off the last of the first wave of zombies.

Panting, Columbus offered his hand, "Thanks for ducking."

Wichita took it and got to her feet, looking at the dead zombie he had hit with the baseball bat. "That was some kind of teamwork." She smiled at him, "Zombie kill of the week?"

Before he could answer, snarls came from behind them and they turned. Five zombies were emerging from the action figure aisle, barreling towards them. A sharp pain suddenly burst from Wichita's leg and she glanced down. The two had directly violated rule #2, the outcome being Nike Zombie's hand gripped tightly around her ankle.

With a yell Columbus kicked the zombie off of her and reloaded his double barrel. "Come on!" he bellowed, grabbing her arm and dragging her away from the mass of zombies approaching them.

"We have to find the others!" Wichita yelled.

"We have to find a place to hide!" Columbus turned and fired, a zombie from the pack dropping to the ground.

Fury rose in Wichita's chest. "I have to find my sister! Columbus, I can't just leave her!"

"She's with Tallahassee," he answered, taking down another following zombie. "She's safer than we are right now!"

Though she agreed with him, there was an uneasiness in Wichita's gut. She hated being separated from her sister. Whether it was the over-protectiveness talking, or the fact that Little Rock was the only family she had left, she couldn't be certain. She locked her jaw and fired at another chasing zombie.

Off to the left, they heard gunshots that were not their own. Wichita snapped her head sideways, relief flooding her face. "They're over there."

Columbus tried to make a left turn, but was cut off by more zombies. Cursing, Wichita fired at them and broke right, away from the familiar shot's from her sister's gun. Zombies were everywhere and she was suddenly getting tired. Her leg ached and her head hurt. In front of her, Columbus fired at a zombie that had run right into his path. Pausing briefly, the wheels in his head turning, he glanced from side to side. There was a door far to his right, and he could just make out the words Storage plastered on a sign.

He turned to Wichita, noticed her sweaty face and grabbed her arm, pulling her with him. "This way!" The two made it to the door but found that it was locked. Not looking back, Columbus threw his entire weight against the wooden barrier, Wichita joining him after shooting a zombie that had gotten too close. Frantically they forced the door open and managed to close it just seconds before the zombies could reach them.

The mass of zombies on the other side smashed against the door, and while Columbus held it in place, Wichita found a metal desk to barricade it. Columbus pushed a metal shelf to hold the desk in place and the two took a step back. They were in the back part of the store, where the loading docks were located. Thankfully, all the loading openings were bolted to the floor.

Columbus heaved a heavy sigh, "That was entirely too close." He turned to Wichita, smiling. But something was wrong, and the smile slid from his face. She was hunched over slightly, a hand gripping one of the numerous metal shelves for support. "…Wichita?" he took a step towards her.

She straightened when he said her name. Turning slowly, she faced him and instantly he knew something was wrong. Her face, which was normally so full of life, was grey and pasty. Sweat creased her brow and hair, more than should have been present from their little run. She smiled weakly at him and tried to take a step forward. "I don't feel so go—"

Her legs gave out on her and Columbus rushed forward, catching her as she fell. It was terrifying, seeing her like this. He was surprised at how heavy she was and he sank to the floor with the extra weight. Her forehead was pressed against his shoulder and she slumped into him. His mind was a blank slate for a second. Not one of his rules covered this.

"…Wichita?" he choked finally. "Wichita, are you okay?"

"That's a…pretty stupid question…" she panted heavily. Slowly, she rolled over in his arms and looked at him. "I think…I think that one of them…may have gotten me."

He froze, mind unable to wrap around the meaning of her words. "No," he shook his head. "No, you're fine."

"Yeah…because me fainting was just a ploy…to get into your arms," she chuckled softly, resting her cheek against his chest.

His heart twisted. Of course she would make a joke at a time like this. He tightened his hold around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "You're fine," he repeated.

"Look at my leg," she said softly. "I'm not fine."

He refused.

"Columbus, look."

He clenched his jaw and looked. There, on her right leg just above the ankle, was a bit mark. The zombie's teeth had penetrated her leather boot, the only protection she had. The wound was small, but her pant leg was already stained with blood.

"I think it's time I play…the quiet game for a little bit…" she whispered after a moment of silence.

He clenched his jaw as tears leaked from his eyes. "No," he said again. "No, I can fix this."

She shook her head. "Not this. You can't fix this."

Again he tightened his hold around her. This time, she turned her face into his chest. "I can't—I won't let you go," he choked. "I don't want to be alone again."

"You won't," she whispered between pants. "Find Tallahassee. Find my sister. Protect her for me, okay?"

"I'm not going to leave you here," he said. "I won't."

"You must," she returned. "I'm," she paused and swallowed, "changing. You must leave before it's complete. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care what happens. Wherever you are, that's where I want to be." He tucked the hairs that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, "Wichita, I'm not going to leave you here to die alone."

A thunderous slam came from the barricaded door, the metal desk and shelf shifting forward slightly. Both flinched at the sound.

"You need to get out of here," Wichita said sternly between pants. "I'll hold them off while you escape."

"That would be in direct violation of rule #17," Columbus said. "Therefore, I cannot let you do that."

"We both know you broke that rule when you saved me and Little Rock from that zombie clown at Pacific Playland."

"I didn't break it," Columbus informed her, "I just tweaked it a little bit."

Aggravation clouded her sweaty face. "Well, right now you're breaking rule #33."

Columbus blinked. "What's rule #33?"

"Always listen to your girlfriend," she answered as another slam came from the barricaded door. "Now get out of here!" She pushed him away and got shakily to her feet. The world spun as she staggered towards her discarded firearm. Her stomach somersaulted with the movement and she bent over, vomiting blood.

Columbus' hands were on her shoulders in seconds, but it didn't matter. He was too stubborn to leave her, she knew that. He would die with her and her last thought was that when they were both zombies, would they still be capable of loving each other.

"Wichita!" Columbus caught her again as she stumbled sideways. Her breath was hitching, her eyed closed. "Wichita!" Every muscle in her body was tense one second, and then she went limp in his arms. "Wichita!" he searched her face desperately, touching her hot cheeks and burning forehead. "Krista!"

Another thunderous boom came from the door, and the force of the hit was too much for the mental barricades. The desk and shelf skidded across the floor. Columbus scooted backwards, Wichita still clutched in his arms. Zombies poured from the opening and Columbus grabbed Wichita's gun and opened fire. Zombie after zombie dropped from the rain of bullets. It was ironic that on the last zombie his gun clicked empty. In a last resort, he threw the empty gun at the approaching zombie, catching the flesh eater in the face and sending it to the ground.

As the undead snarled and groaned, Columbus wrapped his arms around Wichita's shivering body and bowed to kiss the top of her head. There was no other place he'd rather be than right there, with her.

Clenching his eyes shut, he waited for the tear of teeth against his flesh. Instead, he heard a single gunshot and then a body hitting the ground. Squinting an eye open, he found Tallahassee standing in the doorway, Little Rock at his side, gun slung casually over her shoulder.

"We thought you might need our assistance," his attempt at humor was short lived when he noticed Wichita.

"Wichita!" Little Rock yelled, rushing forward.

Tallahassee was frozen for a second, his eyes slightly wide. Upon further examination, he softened his face and took a step forward. "She's been bitten."

Columbus flinched. Tallahassee's voice wasn't harsh, but defeated. His words weren't a question, and since it wasn't, the answer was already concrete. They would either have to leave her, or kill her.

Little Rock was crying, the scene much like the time the four had first met. But this time, it wasn't a con. This was real and the loss of life was the inevitable solution.

"Come on," Little Rock sobbed. "Open your eyes. Come on, Krista."

It must have been the familiar voice that broke through the darkness, because Wichita's eyes opened ever so slightly. "…Abby…?"

"Yeah," Little Rock smiled through her tears, "I'm here. Don't worry; everything's going to be fine."

The older sister shook her head weakly, "…Don't…do it…"

Little Rock didn't hesitate with her answer. "We can trust them," she said and turned to Tallahassee, "Give me that knife of yours."

The man hesitated. He hated not knowing what was going on.

"Tallahassee!" Little Rock snapped with an authority unseen for a twelve-year-old, "The knife!"

Columbus watched as Tallahassee handed his knife to Little Rock slowly. Before anyone could stop her, she slashed open her small palm and held her hand over the bit mark on her sister's leg. Making a fist, she let her blood drop onto the wound. A few seconds later she withdrew her hand.

Tallahassee ripped of a strip of his shirt and handed it to Little Rock. "Do you mind explaining to me what the fuck just happened? Why did you do that?"

Little Rock ignored Tallahassee and turned to Columbus. "She's going to be okay. It might not look like it for the next couple of days, because it's going to be hell, but she'll be fine."

Columbus stayed silent, his eyes locked on Wichita's face. She'd slipped under again, eyes closed.

"Columbus!" Little rock said more sternly and he looked up. "She's going to be fine. I promise you."

He blinked and seemed to finally understand. "But—but how?" he asked. "There isn't a cure."

"Why do you think I just did what I did? Believe me; I didn't do that just for kicks." She sighed and shook her head slowly, "There is a cure."

Tallahassee stood in shock.

Columbus' mouth dropped open. "What are you saying?" he shook his head, unbelieving. "Where did you get it? When? How?"

Little Rock stayed silent, staring at the ground.

Tallahassee broke his own silence, "Does that mean there are others out there? Others that don't snack on people?" Again, Little Rock was silent. "Did the government develop it?" He paused and eyed her suspiciously, "How did you get it? You stole it didn—"

"I didn't steal the cure," Little Rock snapped dangerously, "I am the cure."