I was jolted from my thoughts when the truck jittered and bumped, eliciting a shout of pain and an audible "FUCK!" from Tyler in the back.
"Shit, sorry Tyler, I wasn't watching the road." I apologized, looking back at him as the truck braked to a quick stop.
"Joey, now's NOT the time to be lost in la-la land, idiot." He responded through tightly clenched teeth. "'the hell did we hit?"
"Not sure, let me check." I replied, grabbing my trusty Colt revolver from the passenger seat.
Slowly I opened the door, taking the safety off the weapon. I stepped onto the road, gravel crunching under my worn-out Vans. Closing the truck door with a slam, I snuck around to the passenger side of the vehicle, looking around at the ground under the truck for the source of the bump until something caught my eye: a pair of legs wedged under the back tire. Shit... "Fuck, bro, I think we hit someone!" I shouted through the glass.
"No way, bro, I wanna see-" Tyler exclaimed, trying to sit up. "GAH!" He shouted, clutching the shirt to his abdomen and falling back onto the seat once more.
"Tyler, you dumb-ass!" I shouted, about to open the door when I felt something grab my ankle.
I froze, slowly looking downward. The pair of squashed legs were still there, but now there was a hand wrapped firmly around my ankle. "What the hell?" I muttered to myself, trying to step back.
I somehow managed to drag whatever was holding me out for under the truck, and my heart leapt into my throat. The thing clung to me, snarling and gurgling noises rising from it's greenish-black, half-rotted throat. The severed Walker tightened it's grip and suddenly pulled with startling strength, sending me crashing onto my back, knocking the wind out of me and sending the Colt flying from my hand, landing with a clatter on the blacktop a few feet away. I shouted out with pain and fright, struggling to get away. I kicked and writhed, trying desperately to break the unrelenting grip the undead bastard had on my foot. Even through my struggling, I could hear Tyler's panicked shouting and his palm bashing weakly against the window, and I looked over to the right down the freeway. What I saw almost made my heart stop: Walkers, a huge horde of Walkers in the distance, and they were coming fast. (Well, relatively fast, as zombie hordes go...) This sent my already spazzing brain into a panic-induced overdrive. I thrashed and flopped onto my stomach, clawing desperately at the pavement towards my revolver, which lay just out of my reach, almost as if it were teasing me. My progress was painfully slow, with me trying to pull both my weight and a struggling, yanking Walker. (Hey, even though the truck took half it's body, that piece of shit was still heavy as FUCK!) Grabbing a crack in the pavement, I pulled with all of my strength, managing to wrench my foot free from the Walker's grip. I quickly scrambled on all fours to my Colt, the Walker on my heels in a feverish pursuit. My fingers wrapped tightly around the weapon, and I whipped around, my finger yanking the trigger back, my wrist flying back painfully with the weapon's recoil, and I thought I heard a snap, but it was hard to tell with the gun shot echoing so loudly. I had a moment of relief since my predator now lay dead with his or her brains splattered messily on the pavement, but it was not a moment later before I realized my mistake... The oncoming horde was no more than 15 meters away, and with my gun shot killing one Walker, I alerted the rest of the mob that I was there, was ripe for the picking, and they began closing in FAST.
I was paralyzed with fear as the first handful started shuffling quicker towards me, maneuvering their way through the cars with almost no difficulty. I closed my eyes, hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I accepted my fate. Not only would I die, but Tyler would, too... I failed him and I failed myself. The immense guilt that flooded my stomach felt worse than the fear of my impending death. That's when I was shocked to hear the explosion of a shotgun close by, followed by the 'thud' of Walkers hitting the pavement and another gun shot. Through the snarling of Walkers and the shuffling of feet, I could hear the distinct noise of heavy boots hitting on the pavement, and the opening and shutting of the truck doors.
"What the hell are you doing just laying there!? Get up, we gotta get the fuck outta here!" A harsh female voice yelled as I was dragged roughly to my feet.
Before I knew what was going on, I was sprinting behind a figure (who was still clutching my wrist in one hand and the shot gun in the other) across the grassy medium and the access road before my mind registered what the hell I was doing. "Shit, Tyler! He'll die if I don't get him!" I exclaimed, screeching to a halt, yanking my wrist from her grip, and turning to see the truck already being surrounded by ravenous, blood-thirsty Walkers.
The female quickly captured my wrist once more. "We'll get him, but right now we gotta go!" But I didn't budge. "He'll be fine, now let's GO!" She yanked my wrist, and I let out a startled shout of "Gah!"
Taking one last look at the surrounded truck, I could've sworn I saw somebody in the driver's seat, but I couldn't be sure if they were alive or not. I was forced to turn back as the female gave my arm another rough tug, and we were off again, a knot of uncertainty an dread clenching tightly at my gut.
AN: OOOOOOOH, CLIFF-HANGERS! What's gonna happen next!?