Obaziadicts

Limping and lurching across the frozen ground and Obazy hound reaches the steps of the ancient building and its granite steps. She stops for a moment and looks around at the lifeless streets, this early in the morning no one is out, the sun is still an hour away, and but for a few horrid sounds of feeding, most of the zombies have taken refuge for the coming day.

The woman wears the tattered remains of a once beautiful and expensive pant suit, her hair is matted and the old creases of her face are smoothed with filth and grim. She smile because she knows, what ever her appearance she is accepted in this place. After all she only ate one or two of the members before her zombieness was unavoidably obvious, and by the way they were from that other group any way.

"What are you doing here?" shouted Obazy as he came from within the building.

"Need more."

"More what?"

"More everything."

Obazy pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He blows out a puff of smoke, before answering.

"Tell the minions in Florida to gather and make there demands. But don't eat anyone infront of the TV cameras. I'll get more, the rich still have blood to bleed."