[They peeled back, two by two, like flaking paint but it took until the ones leaned over the hood with their arms reaching for the windscreen cleared off for Jake to hear that horn, long and blaring loud. Noise, and the dead folk, they staggered toward the noise but it was retreating, instead of coming toward.
Jake didn't question. He said his prayer to his God, real quick and his lips thick with fright and he put his pedal on the gas hard and swerved blind, ahead onto the long road and left to right and left again until the last of the dead things shook themselves loose out of view. There was something clinging tight on the back and he screeched to brakes, the back of the truck was real easy to break loose (hadn't he figured that out when good and young and sneaking into town on his grandparents' date night?).
He shot backwards, the worn tires trying real hard to grip to dusty stretch of road, and he got a view of a man in the car, firing away at the dead critters getting real close. Jake leaned out the empty window, and fired at the thing holding tight to the mud-guard on the back, and he didn't care he was wasting bullets and making a racket, he fired until the thing was good and dead and lying still in the road.]