"Canyons, canyons, canyons...fucking canyons everywhere. I swear to whatever unholy God is up there laughing at us…if this all blows over and I see another canyon I will fucking blow a gasket..." Were the words that came from the very frustrated, very grimy, very lonely young woman walking down the side of the deserted Highway 24. "Oh good, now I'm talking to myself, way to go self, now I just need to answer myself and I'll know I've officially gone insane!" A dirty hand rubbed across a tanned forehead in exasperation, smearing it with more dirt and sweat than there was originally, not that she noticed. Everything was dirty these days.

Taking a long gulp of her lukewarm water, the rumbling of a vehicle came from behind her, a mixture of interest and wariness coming over her. Nowadays, people were the ones you had to worry about even more than the undead. She continued walking, not speeding up but not slowing down either, and just as she expected the rumbling came to a climax when an old, beat up truck in a faded red slowed down to a stop beside her, a squeaky window rolled down and a raspy voice called out to her.

"Lil dangerous for a girl like ya t'be out on her own now, ain't it?"

She scoffed, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the setting sun as she stared down the desolate road, just her luck...another one of these pricks.

"Little dangerous for anybody to be out now that there are dead people walking around and chomping on everybody, isn't it?" She shot back, turning to face the stranger and pursing her lips slightly at the sight of blackened teeth behind chapped lips that were formed into a grin.

"Hmph...got that right, woman." He muttered, his lascivious grin growing even larger as he paused for a moment, and then got out of his truck and made his way around to her at a leisurely pace.

Immediately, she could tell he was made for this world. He seemed to have no fear of the fact that a horde of the undead could be on them at any moment, his walk was a confident swagger and the sheathed machete hanging off the belt around his worn coveralls appeared as natural on him as his eyes and nose. Oh those blue eyes...shit! No, stop that, he's a threat, stop thinking like that self... The woman scanned his body involuntarily, noticing his tapered waist, broad, broad shoulders and well-built arms noticeable even through his clothing. He wasn't bodybuilder big but she quickly realized those arms could probably break her in half if he so desired. When she looked back at his dirt-smudged face, a smirk that could rival the Cheshire Cat's was there, his tongue licking his bottom lip slowly as he shamelessly took in her own curvier body before he reached into his chest pocket and took something out.

"Wanna smoke?"

"Uh yeah, sure, thanks..." She trailed off as she peered at the nametag on the coveralls. "Mac." She took a cigarette out of the proffered box and leaned down and over to reach the lighter he held out for her, though not far enough out that she didn't have to get closer than she'd have preferred at the moment. Straightening back up she met his cool blue gaze again, his lips curling up into a shameless grin again as she arched a brow. The two smoked quietly; Mac's eyes barely leaving her mouth, watching her pink lips wrap around the end of the cigarette. Her avoiding looking at him, though occasionally sneaking glances at the way his cheeks hollowed when he inhaled, defining the bones as the last rays of sunlight cast shadows across them. The tension was growing in the dry air around them and she knew she should walk away right this instant but the grimy man in front of her had a strange, slightly malevolent, air about him and she'd be lying if she said it didn't intrigue her. Unfortunately, the atmosphere they were creating dulled their sense of awareness, which normally wouldn't be such a problem, but with the six dead people currently shuffling closer, seemingly from out of nowhere...it was.

Pulled out of her reverie by the rotting stench of long-dead-undead corpses, her reflexes came quickly. Pulling her own machete from its sheath, adrenaline taking over, she stabbed it through the oozing eye socket of the closest one. Using the momentum, her agile body spun around to slam the weapon through the forehead of the walker just behind the first one. Completely lost in saving her own ass she missed Mac almost getting a shoulder chomped on as he watched the young woman take on two monsters by herself, with no fear, little body twisting around, discoloured blood spattering her and not even causing a flinch. The area was a flurry of movement, blood and squelching noises for a few more minutes, making the silence that surrounded them the moment it ended seem deafening. Her chest was heaving, panting hard from the exertion and rush of adrenaline, drawing Mac's already blown pupils downward. And then lower. And lower. Those darkened eyes taking in the spatters of blackened blood across the woman's entire body shamelessly and with as much lust as if she was totally naked.

Mac had never been so turned on in his life.

She noticed his roaming eyes, and whether it was because of the rush of endorphins through her body or because she realized he was undoubtedly attractive in a crude way her body reacted instantly. Tingles ran down her spine and sent bolts straight to her core.

"Hey, eyes up here buddy!" She snapped her fingers suddenly, almost more for her own benefit than his and drew his blue eyes back to her face.

His expression was of the most malevolent lust she'd ever seen; a mix of the darkest pits of Hell and the heat of ten suns.

Ironically enough, that's what made her run. A stupid decision on her part in hindsight, he had a truck. She had two feet.

She barely made it 3 feet before her body hit the ground hard, a warm, heavy weight crashing into her and pinning her to the dusty pavement.

"Whatcha runnin' for, bitch?" Warm breath, a deep growl and that peculiar scent that accompanied all meth teeth flowed across the side of her face as her smaller body struggled to push him off.

She simply scoffed in response, intensifying her struggling, feeling something hard poking into her lower back. It took a moment for her to realize what it was.

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me…" She grit out, body going limp for a moment, assessing the situation. Her machete was pinned between her leg and the ground so that was out, the bastard on top of her had to have had at least 50 pounds on her and had both her wrists pinned to the ground above her head and to top it all off she hadn't eaten in two days, making her weaker than she would have liked. All in all, she was fucked. Both figuratively and, most likely, literally if this so called Mac got his way.

"HEY!" Mac barked into her ear, snapping her out of her reverie, "Asked ya a question…whatcha runnin' for? Ya wanna play cat an' mouse, sweetheart? Jus' remember…cat always gets the mouse in the end." She couldn't see it but she could feel his smirk against her ear.

Quicker than she could process, one large hand slipped under her thigh and slid the bloodied machete from its sheath and the heavy weight was off of her. Stunned but not hesitating she picked herself up off the ground and whipped around to see Mac tapping the flat side of the blade against his own thigh, a malicious smile on his face.

"Well, what're ya waitin' for 'lil girl …," He paused for a moment, relishing in her wide eyes, tensed body and disheveled appearance, "Run."

Not even taking the time to process why he'd let her go all of a sudden, just intent on living through another day; she quickly turned on her heel and sprinted away, a nagging feeling still in the back of her mind.

The loud rumble of an old, red rusted out truck behind her suddenly disrupted the heavy, canyon silence then. And bright, heavy duty beams broke through the darkness, training themselves on the lonely, little mouse in the middle of the highway into Hell.