Something was wrong in Outbreak City. Something very wrong.
Above the typical quiet of an early morning, shrieks of terror could be heard in the distance. Low moans and guttural, feral cries replaced birdsong.
"Hey!" he yelled at the woman reaching in through his now broken car window after Hank. Her head snapped in his direction and she shambled towards him with a high pitched scream.
Hank's heart reached a crescendo as he repeated to himself 'Gotta get outta here!' under his breath. He cursed himself, frozen with fear, cowering upside down with his head in the footwell of his friend's sports car, unable to even close the door beside him.
Hank snapped out of his panic when Troy slammed the driver's side door. Troy fumbled in his pockets for a moment and realised Hank must have the keys.
"Give me the keys!" he yelled as Hank squirmed like an eel in a barrel in the ludicrous position he'd gotten himself into.
Outside, the walking dead, drawn to the commotion, shambled ever closer to the car.
Hank twisted into a seated position and scooped the keys from out of the footwell. Troy snatched them out of his hand and gunned the engine just as the undead were upon them.
As Troy struggled to keep his composure the squeal of rubber heralded their escape and attracted the attention of more creatures. Out of the darkened alleyways they came.
Troy ploughed across the intersection, the roar of the 3.6 liter engine accompanied by high-pitched screams as the undead, threw themselves at the car in a furious blood lust.
"Look out!" cried Hank as two figures lurched out into the road and Troy drifted to avoid them.
As they neared the figures Hank saw a gaping head wound and bared, broken teeth as the bloody mess flung itself towards them.
The car door slammed hard against Hank's shoulder and he winced at the impact. The body spun and crumpled and a shock of crimson spray appeared across the windshield and wing.
"Holy shit!" said Hank as he looked back at the crowd of walking dead gathered in the street.
Troy didn't say a word. Nor did he risk a glance in the mirror, for fear of what he might see.
They'd certainly had better days.