It was a day that he knew was coming and had actually been pretty fucking pleased that it had taken so long to arrive. Boomstick had broken down in the middle of the night. She had stuttered and coughed and then just stopped moving. Lance had spent a tense night in the front seat, guns slung across his lap, waiting for the sun. He needed light to look at the Jeep.
Light hadn't helped. He didn't have the parts he needed. Hell, he didn't even have anything around to cobble makeshift parts out of.
After an epic cursing fit, Lance had packed up as much as he could carry and then started away on foot. He fucking hated walking. It was so much better to just run shit over, but that was an option he no longer had. At least he sort of had a destination in mind. Maybe. Unless he was totally off and had turned down all the wrong roads, which was possible. Lance was never one for directions and, hell, there was that field he'd just randomly decided to drive through because it looked sweet.
He should have buried the Jeep. He could've opened the earth up and let it swallow Boomstick, give her a proper burial, but maybe he could find parts or someone more adept than he was to fix her. It wasn't likely, but he was gonna consider it.
The wall threw him off guard. "What the fuck?" Then he decided to follow it. Walls lead to doors and doors lead to people. Sometimes. Sometimes they lead to giant zombie mobs. He should've packed more fucking guns.