More blood in the air. His, this time. The tears in his skin are felt, like the cut of a dozen tiny knives, skin already blistered in places from the burn of the bile spew, and that initial swell of rage bleeds out of him for a moment as he too goes to a knee, dizzy.

No. Get up.

He shakes his head to clear it, still gripping the axe tightly. When one of the zombie Crows gets a little too close, however, Bull glances up just in time. His free hand goes to snatch the corpse by the throat and squeezing, giving a sharp twist and hurling it aside.

Come on. Get up.

Time to get back to work.