Outbreak RPG

[Ferro_Vida]

The smell of starched linens and and industrial strength disinfectants hung heavily in the otherwise dead air. As Alastair came to and sat up he realized that he was in a hospital, but had no recollection of why he was there. He shivered once as his bare feet touched the cold, lino floor, and then again as the cross breeze from the open window at the other end of his room caught across his naked body.

It was a simple matter to find a set of scrubs folded away in a half open locker, but it helped raise another, more ominous question: Where had everybody gone? By the time he had finished searching the hospital and reached the front door the sun was beginning to set. With a fabric bag packed with junk food dangling in his right hand, Al stepped out into the streets.

[greenlantern555]

Enjolras wakes up in his car after he had crashed into a pole. Blood has been dried on his head. He has never felt a headache as excruciating like the this bitch. He needed help. He gets out of the car and falls over. His whole body felt as if the life had been sucked out of it. He slowly gets back up. Looks around and sees no one. The streets are trashed and bodies are everywhere. He needs to find a hospital.

[Dane]

James straightened his crisp, fresh uniform as he looked himself over in the mirror with a smile. His first day on the job. He had come a long way since the Academy and he had a right to be proud. He stepped out of his small, cramped apartment and made to lock the door. He noticed the silhouette of his land-lady, Mrs. Kawolski out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't worry Mrs. K- I'll have your rent by the end of the week. Just starting a new-" but broke off halfway with his key still in the door. He turned as his land-lady pierced his personal space. He recoiled back, far enough to register her face covered in blood. "Oh god, what happened to you?" he spurted out in alarm. His slightly obese land-lady said nothing but bared her teeth menacingly and James realized the blood wasn't hers.

He drew his pistol as she lunged at him. Her wild attack knocked the gun from his hand and she pinned him to the ground with unnatural strength. He stretched out a hand for his gun but it had slid just inches out of his grasp. The oddly rigid, gray-skinned Mrs. Kawolski growled savagely as she dived toward his face, her mouth open and grizzled with stringy flesh. At the same time James narrowed his eyes and his face hardened.

A dull *thunk* sound echoed softly through the deserted corridor. James held tight on the bowie knife he kept in his pouch next to his holster as it stuck out of his land-lady's eye socket. He hadn't really had time to aim his strike and it was even more gruesome than it had to be. He kicked land-lady's lifeless body off him and stood up, panting slightly. He looked around for someone to call 911 but all of his neighbor's apartments were empty.

"Man, I am not having a good first day..." he said to himself as he pushed open the front door from his apartment building. Scenes of complete carnage met his eyes, with bodies, crashed cars and broken shop windows covering the street. "Guess it could be worse" he said, looking down at a severed leg. "But, I should look for survivors. No one needs a 300 pound zombie-lady visit if it can be helped" he thought to himself and started off through a nearby street.

[Purrpura Bastette]

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. Sitting in an Art history lecture, Angora was dead tired. She could hardly keep her head up and when she did, she was either looking at the clock, or watching the sun inch closer and closer to the horizon through the only window. The whole day had odd feeling to it. There was an eerie and ominous feeling lingering in the air. Angora figured that it must have just been the weather and that that was the reason why so many students were missing in class today. "Just a few inches left... " Angora mumbled to herself, sulking back in her seat. A few inches meant a few minutes and class would soon be over.

*Brrrrriiiiiiiiinnnggggggg* Finally, the damn lecture was over and Angora could make her way across town in her black Blazer. Everyday she would make the same trip down the same road at the same time. Past some housing complexes, past more residential area, past a small woods and past the hospital. She knew the trip by heart and got into her car for a relaxing drive home. The car was her Father's old hunting truck. There was still some equipment in the trunk, but Angora never messed with it. "Damn, I'm gonna sleep like fucking baby tonight." Angora said, almost halfway home. *THUTHUNK* Right as she was passing the woods she felt herself run over something. "WHAT THE FUCK. No way. Holy Shit." The only thing she thought it could be was a deer but, "There aren't any deer in this area....." She knew if it was, it'd still be alive and she'd have to euthanize it. She popped the trunk, got out and grabbed an old pistol her dad had left in there.

Making her way towards the front of the car Angora caught draft of a terrible scent. It smelt like death, but it couldn't be coming from the deer, it wouldn't even be dead yet. Angora shined a little light on her keychain under her chasis. "Oh my god...." Two feet stuck out from under her truck. She kicked them a few times to see if the person was dead but not a sound nor movement occurred. "Holy fuck I'm going jail." The hospital was just a few blocks down the road. Angora couldn't move her car without running the guy over again so she decided to run down there real fast. She stuffed the pistol into her satchel locked up her car and began running towards the hospital.

Angora's car.

[Strafe Prower]

"What happened?" Noah asked as he slowly came to consciousness. One minute he walked into the school with Walker, his best friend, and then suddenly they came like wildebeasts. He vaguely remembered fighting alongside Walker and taking out the strange attackers. He remembered them fighting and acting almost inhumane. He didn't understand if they were zombies or what, but he had to find Walker. They must ofpassed out after fighting that many enemys.

He got up off the chilly tile floor and became sick at his stomach as he saw all the dead corpses and various body parts strown about. He then came to the realization that they were zombies and he was in a real situation. He walked down the blood red halls of the school he once felt safe at. He wondered how many people actually survived the intial onslaught. He then heard a desperate cough and ran towards the door it came from. He didn't know what was on the other side, but he couldn't take chances. He looked around for something to use as a weapon. He saw the corps of the school policeman.

He dashed to the body and grabbed the handgun. He walked slowly back to the door, checking the clip for ammo as he did. There was a total of three bullets left. He prepared the standard handgun for fire and grabbed the crimson stained handle of the door. There was an ominous feel to the entire school and Noah didn't like it one bit. He turned the handle and opened the door with his left hand, still aiming with is right. He took a deep breath and walked through it checking all his surroundings.

A clacking soud rang throught the classroom as the gun hit the floor with a violent sound. A single tear streamed down Noah's face as he looked upon his best friend. He was speechless as he walked over to his friend, actually more like a brother. Walker's body was mangled from the fight and he obviously was close to death. "He bud, you still with me?" Noah asked with a shaking voice. He couldn't handle this, he refused to.

"Yea......But......Not.....For.....Long." Walker whispered with a cough of blood and looking towards his commrad's face. Noah didn't really know what do to or say, as no one should ever be in a situation like this. He couldn't help in any way and it sucked ass. He sat down against the wall beside where Walker was laying. "I will be here with you, till the end. Love ya man" Noah said with his voice changing pitch and bursting into a river of tears flowing from his eyes. "Survive......For.....Me." Walker said closing his eyes and sighing. "I will." Noah said as his friend and only ally died before him.

Noah didn't know what to do, he didn't have anyone he could contact. He slowly got, still in a histerical state, and walked out of the classroom, picking up the gun as he walked out. He closed the door of the classroom and walked towards the front doors of the school. He was slowly calming down, for now. He had to think about survival for Walker.He opened the doors and started to walk down the street. He had to find help, no matter who it may be.

[InnerVenom123]

The undead wandered the streets aimlessley. Their faces caked with blood. A horde traveling together wandered down Main St, but one by one, their foreheads started to burst. Their own blood splattered on each other, and they fell one by one.

On a rooftop ledge above Main Street, a sniper rifle's barrel peered down. Slaughter peered into the sniper scope once again, grinning.

"One. Two. Three."

There was a tiny click as the silenced sniper went off. Another undead's forehead exploded, and the recently un-deceased fell to his knees, and then onto the ground spread eagle.

"Four."

Slaughter grabbed the coffee mug sitting next to him on the ledge, black just like he loved it, and he drank half of it down in one gulp.

"Ah...."

The moaning of the undead caught his attention. He turned around to face his rear, an extremely fat zombie walking towards him, arms out.

Slaughter took another sip from the cup, took out a pistol from a brown holster strapped to his left side, and fired. The bullet went through the zombie's head, and the colossus fell.

"I love the smell of death in the morning. HA!"

[lagoon_boy]

Memories of yesternight, were still a blur for Frank, all he could remember was a trip to the supermarket, a drive back home, a call..a drive to the police department and blackness soon took over. Frank wasn't just a military expert..but he was also one of the most high ranking S.A.S agent that ever joined. But hes strongest and probably most feared job of all is his current job, a mercenary. But what actually did happen? Frank woke up from the state of unconsciousness, how could this happen? How could he, Frank O' Connor, A.K.A The Bigman, let himself unconscious, and not remember any events that happened twenty four hours ago. This left Frank in a disappointment to himself. No matter, all he needed to do was stand up and go home right? Wrong. Frank slowly but surely pulled his still recharging body up from the tiled floor of the police station, everything seemed quite, for a police station not many officers were on duty, if not none of them showed up...this was quite a confusing sight to have woke up with.

Frank stood up finally, but still having wobbly legs. He used one of the information desks to aid him on successfully standing up. He looked outside, still looking for any people to show up or at least move, but again nothing. Frank decided to explore the rest of the sheriff station, looking for any possible life. Frank seemed to h ave already regained composure..it seemed that his muscle enhancements came in handy.

Frank looked around as he neared the end of the hallway, but a baritone, moaning noise stopped him right in his tracks..he narrowed his eyes and saw a shadow, creep towards the light..the shadow became more detailed, and judging alone from the shadow it was a police officer, but oddly walking slowly. Frank with a serious voice questioned"Sir, do you know where the others are?" But no reply, Frank grew suspicious..Frank felt around his back, looking for his Beretta but it seemed he dropped it on the ground where he was unconscious. This day could not get any worse as the officer finally showed himself at the opposite side of the hallway where Frank stood. "Great, a zombie" Frank said to no one else but to himself.

Frank still with his suit on ran as fast as any athlete on steroids could go and performed a spinning back kick to the undead officer, literally kicking his head off. Blood squirted from the neck of the vulnerable undead corpse. "At least he still has blood left" Frank again told himself.

Frank felt for the officers piece as he successfully found it, it may not have been a Beretta, but glock can do.

[Power NeXus]

Derek Hubbel and his manager, Keri, were turning off the lights at Burger Hut after closing. It had been a long day. All Derek wanted was to go home and play WoW.
"We done Keri?" Derek shouted out to the manager.
"Yeah Derek. You can go ahead and go."
Derek stepped outside into the slightly crisp night air, took a moment to breathe, and started the walk back to his truck. He heard the door slam again as Keri came out, and he started listening to hier footsteps as she walked behind him.
"That's... too many footsteps..." he started to think. Derek looked casually over his shoulder to see what was going on back there. A large man was walking drunkenly behind Keri. She was texting and hadn't noticed yet. He was gaining on her very rapidly.
"KERI! Guy right behind you!" Keri's head snapped up and she jerked around. She cursed and tried to get away, but it was already too late. The man had grabbed a hold of her wrist, and was keeping it in a bone-crushing grip. Derek stood frozen on the spot for just a second. He was about to rush to his manager's aid when he felt sewer-like breath on his own neck. He reflexively spun around and aimed a punch right in the eyes of a 15-year-old girl. She was soaked in blood. He heard a scream behind him, and saw the man biting Keri's neck. Blood was already gushing out in a huge puddle around her. There was nothing he could do for her. He slowly got more of a bearing in the parking lot. It wasn't just the man and the girl. These blood-soaked drunken psychopaths numbered at least half a dozen, all with their eyes on him. Derek bolted for his truck, his heart hammering inside his chest. The freaks pursued him, but didn't seem to be able to run very quickly. He whipped the door open, jumped inside, and locked it again, hearing a small clatter outside. Before he could get the key in the ignition, one of the freaks jumped up on his hood and began to beat on the windshield. Derek revved the truck up and shot into a quick U-turn, sending the freak flying. Derek stomped on the gas and skidded out into the street, which seemed unusually empty. Derek reached into his pocket to get his cell phone... to find it wasn't there. With a moan of fear, he realized it must have fallen out of his pocket when he rushed into the truck. Berating himself, Derek wiped the sweat off his brow continued to drive, just drive. But where was he supposed to go now?

[InnerVenom123]

Slaughter slid the pistol back into the holster, not bothering to clip to the holster's top. The ability to quick draw had become extremely valuable today.

Slaughter peeked into the sniper's scope once more, licking his lips, and he joyfully gulped down the rest of his coffee, ignoring that the steaming liquid was dripping onto his neck. Any normal person would have twitched, but Slaughter could have cared less. Pain wasn't his biggest worry, his body count was.

A zombie looked up from the street and saw the barrel. This particular zombie looked at his breatheren, worms wriggling in his upper lip and a disgusting yellow pus dripping from his gums, and this zombie pointed up.

Slaughter grinned upon seeing this. He looked down at his chest, admiring the white 'RIP' written. Then he looked at the group of zombies below, and as more zombies joined, heading for the building's front doors so that they could climb up the stairs toward him, Slaughter laughed.

"Bring it."

Slaughter ripped a grenade free of its pin and tossed it down, and he got to work with his sniper. Firing shot after shot, smiling all the while.

[InnerVenom123]

The grenade plopped to the ground, and burst; shrapnel and explosive force throwing back a few of the zombies, while other zombies just continued on. Their foreheads burst, as Slaughter kept up the fire.

"About 15. More coming."

Slaughter thought, as he grabbed another grenade and ripped the pin out between his teeth, and tossed it down. More undead were thrown back by an explosion, and through the smoke, Slaughter made more shots with the sniper.

Down below, the undead started to catch on. More of the zombies started to wander out from the alleys, and surrounding streets, all toward this location.

"Dammit."

Slaughter re-loaded the sniper and took it off of the ledge. Reaching into his trenchcoat on the side, Slaughter pulled out a strapped M-60, and aimed the barrrel down. He then let loose a flurry of automatic fire.... what Slaughter didn't see, was that the undead were swarming all sides of the building, not just this one.

[Erik-El]

Day 1, 8:15am.

Preston had noticed that he had not seen a customer all day today. Strange for a monday morning. Usually he is making twice his base pay in tips alone. It looks like he is not getting the latest issues of his comic on wednesday. Damn customers. It actually was a little creepy. Preston opened up the shop doors to make the place seem a little more inviting and let the sound of the finger snapping alternative music to be heard from the streets.

Preston was just going through his checklist of chores when he noticed a customer heading right for the shop. "Finally!" Preston thought as he prepared himself for a record breaking coffee service.

"Ha! Hello Mr. Jackson. Will it be the usual mocha today?" Preston said with a glance. No reply as Mr. Jackson lumbered into the shop. Preston looked up again and noticed that Mr. Jackson was bleeding profusely from several open wounds on his right arm and shoulder. Preston meant to say something like, "HOLY SHIT!" But no sound came from his mouth. Mr. Jackson reached the counter and then fell to the floor and Preston jumped over the counter to help Mr. Jackson.

"What happened Mr. Jackson?" He said as he hurriedly looked all over the counter for the shop phone.

"Some dam.... Damned people attacked me for trying to help.... A woman. They were.... On her and... I tried to.... To help. I just wanted.... to help...."

Preston was busy trying to stop the bleeding with wads of napkins. He looked up at Mr. Jackson again and stopped immediately. Mr. Jackson was dead. Preston leaped over the counter again and knocked several syrup pumps over before he found the phone buried behind them. 911. The first time he had ever had to dial the number in his life. He never expected to get a busy signal. "Bullshit!" He exclaimed.

Just then he noticed Mr. Jackson was moving again, standing up with his back to Preston. "Mr. Jackson! I thought you died. What are you...?"

Mr. Jackson turned and they met eyes for a brief moment. To Preston, it felt like hours. He never had someone look at him like that. With such emptiness. Before another word could be said, Mr. Jackson leapt at Preston with a ravenous passion. He fell going over the counter and grabbed at Preston as he went. Preston nimbly dodged out of the way and scampered back, grabbing a toaster for protection. He did not know what to say. He just stood there as Mr. Jackson stood back up and stumbled at Preston.

CRACK!

One solid hit across the head and Mr. Jackson was down. He did not get back up.

Preston looked at the bloody toaster and the flakes of blood on his own apron. He dropped the toaster and fell against the counter to support himself for a moment. He looked out the doors of the shop and a new sight was before him. Silent, bloody people chasing and attacking screaming ones. Some had noticed the music of the shop and were heading his way. Only two thoughts were in Preston's head, "I need to get home and I need to get Sam."

[Power NeXus]

Derek Hubbel sped home, faster than he had ever driven on that road before. He wasn't scared of hitting anyone. There were hardly any cars to be found. He wasn't scared of being pulled over. He actually hoped he might be so the cops could tell him what the h**l was going on.
Speeding down the highway, he saw more people like the ones who had just attacked him. Bloody, greyish, walking like they were drunk. Derek drove faster.
Derek had played the video games, seen the movies, read the stories. But he would not allow his mind to close in on the one answer that made everything fit: zombies. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible. He forced himself not to even think of the word.
He skidded through his neighborhood and pulled up next to his home, rushed to the door, busted inside. "Hello!" he shouted. "HELLOOO!!!". No answer. Nobody was home. Why would nobody else be home at this time??
Derek stumbled outside to think. WHAT THE F**K WAS GOING ON.
He heard a dull thud in the driveway where he had left his truck. A shadow moved. Somebody had just climbed out of the bed of the truck.
For only a split second, Derek was torn in half between primal agression and childlike fear. His mind chose agression. He rushed at the figure, prepared to beat it to the ground.
He was the figure's face in the light of the street lamp.
It was Keri. His manager. The manager he had just seen bitten through the neck not 20 minutes ago. The wound was still there, gaping and bloody.
Keri was different. Her eyes were rolling in their sockets. Her skin was pallid and greying, and pulled taut over her bones. She hissed at him, and her breath stank like the sewer. She advanced on him, eying him with an all-consuming hunger, and stumbling like she was drunk.
Derek finally let the word sink in.

Zombies.

To this day, Derek doesn't remember what he did next. He may have attacked his undead manager. He may have simply dodged past her. He doesn't remember those moments. The next thing he remembers is being in his truck again, speeding back down the same road, desparately racking his brain to remember the iconic 'do's and don'ts' of zombie apocalypse. One thing was for sure: he had to find others. Nobody ever survives these things by going alone.

[Erik-El]

Day 1, 8:20am.

Preston had made his way out the back of the shop. There was no one around in the back alley. He jammed a pallet between the door and a ledge of concrete to prevent gruesome followers from running him down. He still had his apron on. "Just a little extra protection." He mused to himself. Preston made his way behind all the stores in the outdoor mall. He could hear the screams of others, pleas for help and cries of pain. He pushed past it. Nothing mattered except Sam. He was no hero. Let someone else take the glory of saving everyone, he just had to save one person.

Preston had a simple 4'' folding combat knife on him. That was his only protection. He laughed to himself for a moment at the thought of having to let these crazy people get that close to him before he could defend. "Are these crazy people though? Mr. Jackson was dead. I just know it, he was gone." He thought. "No time for that stuff right now. I have to get home and then get Sam."

Once Preston reached the end of the outdoor mall area, it was all parking lot. It seemed bigger now than it used to. All that open space before he could reach the road. "I should have brought my damned bike." He cursed to himself. Preston dodged, ducked and sprinted from car to car. A few had these crazies around them that he had to skillfully avoid. Some were locked in their own vehicles. Prisoners in their own automobiles. Silent sentinels.

Finally, he reached the road that led to his home. It took longer than it normally does because he had to play it stealthy. Not a single encounter since the Coughy Shop. "Too lucky today I guess." He thought as he took to a dead run. He could get to his house in mere minutes from the parking lot if he runs flat out the entire way.

[Strafe Prower]

Noah looked around the ghost town, making sure to avoid any and all zombies he might encounter. He was a decent fighter, but certainaly didn't want to test his skills. He had to find some help and so he just continued to walk.

It wasn't looking good. All around him were dead bodys, whether they were zombies or just the deceased laying on the ground. Suddenly, he heard a moaning a bit different than the rest of the Zombies. He turned to see a little girl walking towards him, but this was no ordinary little girl, it was Walker's sister.

She was obviously infected and Noah didn't know what to do. Could he even hurt such a small child? What would Walker want him to do? "Survive" came to Noah's mind as the girl was in front of him. A tear rolled down his cheek as a kick was sent flying towards the little girls head. It just fell off like it wasn't even attached to her body.

He didn't want to be here, he wasn't strong enough for this. He wasn't meant for hard decisions about survival. What would he do? He then rememberd that he was looking for others and turned to look again down the streets. He just hoped that luck was on his side. He would soon find out that it was.

He saw someone coming in a truck, Noah hoped for the best as he waved, hoping the guy would stop. He doubted a zombie could drive, so this was the best shot he had. He was always told there was power in numbers, so lets hope it proves true.

[Power NeXus]

Everything looked like a scene from a bad horror flick. The sky was looking grey and overcast. The streets were studded with crashed cars and the occasional body. If you took a moment to get quiet and listen, you would almost always hear someone, somewhere, scream. Blood painted the scene like confetti the day after a parade.
Derek Hubbel was wired with adrenaline, partially for being awake for so long, but mostly from the unbelievable situation the whole world was suddenly in. He had stopped only once to stop at a secluded gas station to fill up his tank and grab some energy drinks and food supplies. His best chance was to head more into town. There would be more zombies there, but where else would he find other uninfected people?
Finally. One good sign. A guy, looking about his age, standing by the side of the road waving him down. Derek breathed a prayer of thanks and pulled over.
"Get in," he said, "I like to keep moving."
The stranger climbed in, and Derek sped off. They both sat in silence for just a moment before swapping stories. The stranger introduced himself as Noah. His experiences so far had been worse than Derek's. He had fought off entire group of zombies with his best friend, who subsequently died, and he had been forced to kill his friend's undead sister. Derek groaned inside. Had he been getting off easy so far? Would he have to face that sh*t too?
Derek told his own story, and offered Noah food if he needed any. Noah obliged, and asked where they were going.
"I was thinking city hall," Derek replied. "Seems like a logical place to meet with other survivors."
"City hall?" Noah paled a bit. "That's right in the middle of town. We won't be able to spit without hitting one of them down there."
Derek stared ahead at the road. "If you have better ideas, I'm all ears. I just don't know where else to go. There's not going to be an easy way out of this. Any zombie movie or video game will tell you that. If we're going to have any chance at all of surviving, we're going to have to take risks like this at some point."

[Strafe Prower]

Noah had a lot on his mind, as any man would in this situation. He was glad he finally found an ally in Derek though, and he was a nice guy to boot. Seemed like all was going well, until heard their destination. "I'm still not sure that City Hall is the best choice." I would think the Grocery Store or Sporting Goods store would be the best places to find other survivors." Noah said trying his best to think and speak logically. "I mean, Food and Weapons are crucial in these situations right?" He asked Derek with a bit of a weak voice. He didn't know what to think at this moment in time. He just wanted to wake up from this bad dream.

To bad he wasn't dreaming, and the terrible site he saw on the side of the road proved it. "Oh...My....God." Noah stared and shuddered as a man was being ripped to shreds by zombies. His shrieks were piercing the glass of the truck, they were so loud and high pitched. This was the first time Noah had witnessed an attack and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Noah looked away from the horror as they continued on their way to, hopefully, a better situation.

[Power NeXus]

Derek weighed Noah's words, thinking carefully.
"Hmmph. Actually, I think you're right about that," he said after a few seconds. "Guess that's why the people who stick together always survive these things. There's always someone to let you know when you're about to do something wrong."
Derek considered the options. Food wasn't much of a necessity at the moment. He had already grabbed a rather large armful of the basics from a gas station. The primary need right now would be weaponry. Neither he nor Noah had any sort of useful zombie-killing devices, except for maybe a wheel wrench.
"I'm pretty sure I know of a big sporting goods store pretty near the middle of town. It's not too close to any residential areas, so if we're lucky there might not be too many freaks crawling around.
If we're lucky.
We'll just have to make it fast. Get in, grab as many potentail weapons as we can, and get out. That's the good thing about having a truck. We don't have to worry about taking just what we can carry."
Derek shuddered slightly and stared ahead. He didn't know how long he could keep up this facade of confidence. He had always been a basic team player. Never the man with the plan. Noah didn't seem to be much more of the 'strong leader' type than he himself was. They were just two regular guys with a beat-up truck and a few loaves of bread, trying to find a way to survive a situation never before concieved outside of popcorn flicks and video games. F*** this.
Derek studied the area around them. If he remembered correctly, the sporting goods store was only a couple of blocks away. They were in a business district. He hadn't seen a residential neighborhood or major apartment complex for at least a mile or two. He hoped that was a good thing. He hadn't seen many zombies yet in this area. He didn't know if that meant there weren't many here, or if they just had enough intelligence to stay off the main road.
A faint crash of breaking glass.
A shrill scream rapidly getting closer.
A body fell out of the sky, and hit the pavement just in front of the truck.
Out of instinct, Derek swerved hard to avoid the body.
Swerved too hard. Back tires skidding. No control.
The back end of the truck crashed into a parked car, then stopped dead.
It took Derek a couple seconds to fully register what had just happened. When his head cleared, he jerked around to look at the street behind him. The body that had hit the ground was a woman, screaming and desparately trying to crawl out of the street. Derek looked up and saw the second-story window she had come from. Two zombies were seething, hesitantly, at the window's edge. They had just enough intelligence still in them to know not to jump out the window after the woman. A third zombie rushed out of a nearby alley and killed the woman in less than a second with a massive bite to the skull.
Frantically, Derek put the truck back in gear and stomped on the gas. The front tires skidded on the pavement. The back tires did nothing. Something had been broken in the collision with the parked car. Derek was speechless. He looked at Noah, terrified. Their transportation was now useless.