The apocalypse had come and gone, and even though there were still plenty of walkers stumbling around Montana-or what Billy called GOB (Good Ol' Boy) land-the worst thing on two legs was the survivors. At least with the dead you knew where you stood-as a potential meal! Billy was a young black man who worked for Zombie Express, the main trucking company that ran supply routes between the remaining towns and strongholds spread across the Big Sky state. He was originally from the harsh environs of L.A., and he now had to show the ropes to Ted, the erudite Old White Dude the company had saddled him with. He knew nothing about the elderly grandpa, other than Zombie Express had hired him at the last minute to ride shotgun in his truck. Everyone's story of their Z Day . . . or week . . . or month, was different of course, but damn, didn't the old dude ever shut up? And just minutes into their first run the old man was already napping! He was going to get Billy killed . . . or worse! And Billy did not want to end up a dead head!