The Queen was dead. The zombie grisly had eaten her brains out and left the rest for the birds. Nearby the bear was in a frenzy of rage. Killin Hood's men had managed to stop it with a trap. It roared swiping at a henchmen who dived from getting shaved. It's hind quarters ensnared in sharp spikes kept it from taking another life.

"We will have your cage here soon, Goldenrod, now who's been a good girl" swooned the head zombie grizzly bear trainer, before he cracked his whip.

A ways over Killin Hood played with his mustache, watching the scene. The coroner of the woods zipped Elizabethy the 6th into a body bag. She had been slain. He and his boys had managed to successfully tag another game.

"I know those truckers we let off the hook tried to help her try to escape, and even worse as soon as the going got rough they used her as bait" said the squad leader of a highway crew.

"We'll keep looking for them, sir," said another one of his scouts.

"Of course we will hunt them to the very flat edges of this planet," said the big boss of the woods.

He bent to study tracks leaving the swamp.

He walked to where the hot rod had melted. Woodsmen in hazmat suits studied the machine's guts burned by intense heat bubbling forth from beneath the planet. The ground was ripped apart everywhere in this area, and filled with dirty water. One worker got stuck in the mud walking forward. He went tumbling overhead to struggle in a large puddle.

“Watch your steps gentlemen. COUGH!.. Excuse me anyway we saw the King in here, we have his bike, and we’ve disposed of the Queen with the help of our beast, but he has disappeared from our trap without a trace” said Killin Hood.

“Perhaps he is in the stomach of the bear” theorized the 2nd in charge.

The 2nd in charge was a bandit lizard leaning against the abandoned bike. He flicked his reptile tongue as his mustached leader approached.

“No. I know that the king remains alive. He will be our biggest hunt yet, and the proudest trophy on my mantle, you all know that” said Killin Hood.

“Aye” said the henchmen standing around him.

Flames crackled revealing snow falling down the side of the mountain. The big rig was parked for the night under cover of a large rock overhanging it. The winds were too fierce for the journey to continue until morning. A rusty knife delivered a puncture to a can of ham. Jed retrieved their supper by scooping the moist contents out. It plopped on an iron cooker heated by the fire. Mule lay on his back resting. The contents were cooking. Jed flipped over the thin layer of seared meat. Mule licked his lips in anticipation at the smells wafting to him.

Mule's wound had appeared to have stopped bleeding when Jed had recently applied a fresh bandage. He was awake standing on his leg. He limped over to Jed. The man fed the donkey what remained of raw food from the can, and soon the rest of it was cooked. They ate together warmed from the outside frost. The three moons lit the mountains. The sparkling stars are a magnificent sight. Mule winced, his eyes hurt, his leg really hurt. That wasn't all his brain was very foggy ever since the Queen had dragged him to the core against his will.

“I’ll take a shift to watch over things, Jed you should get some sleep so you can drive good tomorrow” said Mule.

“I suppose that is a good idea. Yawn.. Long if you're up for it” said Jed stretching his arms back in a makeshift hammock he had made.

Mule took out his harmonica and began to play a lonesome lullaby. Jed had made sure to save the hard-case of tools from his hot rod. He had also saved the hard-case containing his banjo. The two travelers began to play a traditional tune. They played a few more folk songs before Jed retired. He went to take the instrument to the heated cab where he ended up sleeping.

In the morning birds tweeted. Mule held an industrial hose in his mouth. He was pouring liquid brew from one tank into another. The jungle juice would act as coolant, and lubricant for the big rig's crystal core engine.

“Alright, here's where my trucking skills will really be tested,” said Jed.

“I hope you’ve got what it takes,” said Mule, slamming the passenger door.

They were off up a mountain pass. The smokestacks leaking into the clouds. The sun's rays forced Mule to backseat. Jed's eyes were protected by his Epic Legendary branded trucking hat. This section of the path eroded leaving only a narrow band to safety.

“Take it easy now, because this is a one strike and you're out type of affair” said Mule.

“I can see that,” said Jed.

He had gripped tight hold of the wheel, taking as big a breath as possible to relax himself.The truck slowly inched along driving gravel falling hundreds of meters below. Mule glanced out at the drop to certain death, and gulped. The road angled sideways tilting them, and he gritted his teeth.

“Almost there, We got it” said Jed, talking to himself, focused.

The cab had almost cleared the danger. They had made the trek. All that was left was the large vat of jungle juice hanging out in the elements. The wind whipped the trailer threatening to blow them off with it. Jed felt the power leaving the vehicle as they were sucked back. He shifted into first gear, and smashed on the pedal. The metal smoke stacks had turned bright red with the roaring fires. The truck slowly pulled itself up climbing a steep rock.

Jed sighed. They cleared the hump to a flat roadway. Snow was thin up here, so was the trees, and the air.

“I wonder if we have air crystals aboard here in case the atmosphere gets too thin?” asked Jed.

“Actually I do have some gas masks back there in our inventory. Good idea ill go fetch them” said Mule.

He adjusted the seat to climb to the back of the cab. The truck lurched and the donkey smacked his head.

“Oh man I hope it’s smooth sailing soon, I'm not sure how much more bad fortune I can take,” said Mule.

He found the gas masks, containing crystalized air and brought them back to the front. They both slapped them on for full breathing support in thin air. The truck had reached what looked like the highest elevation of the road through the mountain. The incline had started to go down.

Above them on a peak three men crouched in hiding in winter camouflage. One of them looked on with a long crystal scope, but they all spied for the same boss.

“We’ve found our target, let's get back to where we have service” said the man compacting his spying device.

The men climbed aboard fast snow machines on treads zipping off towards the direction of the swamp.

Meanwhile in a dark thicket the coroner of the woods escorted his latest taxidermy project. His party carried torches, some rode horses, and a few gripped blunderbusses. They were heading to the morgue. A particularly toady looking Bootlicker among them croaked out as garrote wound out behind the neck. A horse ran off dragging a dead body impaled by a throwing knife. The coroner threw his arms up in surrender.

“Bang, Bang!”

He was executed.