The big black bull, now bloodied and staggering in the arena, had been acting strange all morning, long before the big bullfight...

They'd heard the international news speaking of the dead rising, and they ignored news reports that said the virus seemed to be passed on through cattle. It was clearly another over exaggeration by the ignorant and uncivilised Americans in order to stop their proud traditions. Everyone agreed that the bullfight MUST go on!

The epic struggle between proud matador and noble bull lasted several hours as the beast stubbornly clung to life, despite having been worried by dogs to exhaust it before entering the arena There was one point where the bull dropped to his knees and the matador took the sword from his assistant and stepped forward, bowing to the striken beast before plunging it deep into the bull's chest with a flourish. The crowd cheered! How noble, how beautiful!

The bulls nose sank down to touch the sand, its breath bubbling the blood that pooled there, but after a long moment it shook and shuddered, and then... stood up! The fight went on till the matador himself and even the baffled crowd was becoming more and more worn out, and the bull, though it should have been dead, seemed to have found new strength became ravenous and further enraged - it simply would not die!

Finally in what everyone in the crowd agreed was a poetically tragic moment, the matador dropped to his knees and bowed his head. Without hesitation the bull gored him with one great horn straight through his chest and tossed him high into the air. The crowd screamed! How wild, how terrifying! The bull's strength seemed to know no bounds as it crashed through the crowd barriers and began to tear its way through the throng. Crushing together to get to the exits they only made it easier for the great bull to scythe them down with its horns.

To this day his roaring bellows echo from the whitewashed bloodstained walls of the arena... and so Taurus charged his way into our Zombie Zodiac.