Feast 3: The Happy Finish Page #4

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I've been tracking you guys

for a little while.

I had to make sure

you weren't infected.

I'm sorry for your loss.

She looked to be quite the fighter.

Save your sorry for someone else,

macho.

We're looking for the right way to go.

Will you help us?

Well, there's too many of us

to run topside.

They're picking off survivors

left and right.

It's not for that.

I've been using it to see.

Baking soda, peroxide and pop.

That manhole up there,

we ought to close it.

We don't want nobody

coming down here.

Good thinking.

- Yeah.

- I got it, Pops.

You must be a military man.

Oh, yeah. Marines?

Yup.

Intuition like that

only comes from battle experience.

F***, man!

Get up. Lift him up.

Hey.

Back, demon.

Foul beast, I command you.

Back. Back, I say.

Back. Back.

Let's go, man.

We'll catch up

with your little friends.

What was that?

I don't reckon we're alone here,

partner.

You in any shape to fight, son?

I just got my arm bitten off.

Yeah, well,

you better walk it off.

Because one of them suckers

are in here with us right now.

Come on, motherf***er!

I'm not gonna make it.

You gotta keep fighting, son.

I'm with you.

Look.

Oh...

Ow, that really hurt.

F***.

Oh, man.

Piece of sh*t.

What?

Oh, f***!

Take it easy. Come on, take it easy.

You're okay.

Yeah, speak for yourself.

- Sh*t.

We gotta stop that bleeding.

It's too f***ing dark in here.

I can't see.

Lean over, lean over.

I got an idea.

You ain't a smart hombre.

This is going to sting.

Just a little bit.

Mother of Mary. God.

I got a bullet from

a hunting trip here, son.

You're not doing

what I think you're doing.

Well, we gotta close that wound,

son.

Somehow we gotta

pour it in deep here.

Real deep.

That's a lot, dude.

Hey, listen,

this is battlefield surgery, son.

It's very delicate.

I mean, you're the f***ing patient,

I'm the goddamn doctor.

Just let me do my f***ing thing,

will you?

One more, that's all.

All right, now,

I need a match.

I got one, I got one.

- Did you learn this in the Marines?

- No.

- Rambo III.

- What?

Oh, my God!

Oh, f***!

Whoa, what the f***?

What the f***?

GREG:

LIGHTNING:

GREG, THEN LIGHTNING:

GREG, THEN LIGHTNING:

Greg, he's not a baby.

LIGHTNING:

He's not the baby.

GREG, THEN LIGHTNING:

LIGHTNING:

GREG:

LIGHTNING:

GREG, THEN LIGHTNING:

Greg, stop it.

LIGHTNING:

LIGHTNING:

We gotta keep moving, son.

I look like a goddamn

foosball player.

I know it looks bad right now, son.

Yeah, it looks real bad, all right?

Why don't you just chew off

my dick?

We'll call it a day.

Look,

you keep fighting until the end.

You suck it up and you fight.

Stay with me, f***ers.

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