Demi and Jane
“Okay, I’m going to try and take out enough of them so you can just plow on through,” Jane called. It wasn’t the easiest or the smartest thing she’d ever done but unless the woman inside the truck had an arsenal, they didn’t have much of a choice. The fact that she didn’t know if she was immune didn’t stop Jane, though. She was scared shitless of being bitten but living with knowledge she could have helped someone and didn’t because she was frightened was a fucking cowardly thing to do. Jane checked and rechecked her weapons, making sure she had enough ammunition for her service pistols as she slid the ballistic riot shield over her arm. She opened the cruiser’s door with driving force, sending the closest shuffler on it’s ass. Jane stood over the decaying husk of the once human and with no hesitation brought the edge of the ballistic shield down against the shuffler’s neck, nearly severing the head and obliterating whatever force kept this monstrosity on its feet.
Careful not to hit the truck, Jane started picking off shots, crippling some of the walkers but nailing one or two in the head. A zombie that must have been no older than 8 when it turned came for Jane, its teeth gnashing as it let out an inhuman howl. Jane had no time to mourn the loss of life for this child; she dropped her shoulder and launched her shield into the walker, sending it skittering before she stopped its twitching for good. She’d cleared out enough of the infected for the truck to possibly make a break for it.
“Give it some gas!”
Demi was having what one might call a severe case of sensory overload, between her own fear, the shufflers and the noise from the woman’s attempt to help her. Demi didn’t know what to focus on first or even where to look. She wondered for a brief moment if this was what those mice that scientists put in cages felt like, overwhelmed by their surroundings while trying to achieve the end goal. Except Demi wasn’t going for cheese, she was trying to save her fucking life.
Or more appropriately stated the blonde woman with the gun was trying to save her life. Demi was simply watching from the cab of the pickup wide eyed as the police officer took down zombie after zombie, looking in Demi’s own opinion like some kind of modern day valkyrie. A valkyrie that had made a path in the shufflers large enough to get the damn truck through them, at all.
“Okay!” Demi yelled back, turning the ignition.
Nothing.
She turned it again, cursing under her breath and praying that the engine might roar to life this time.
It didn’t.
“Fuck!” She slammed her hands against the wheel. “”Goddamnit Caleb, why the fuck can’t you keep this thing maintained?” Demi yelled as if it might help to curse out her cook, a man who admittedly didn’t know how to keep this rusted out hunk of metal running half the time. She had been warned it might stall out on her, Demi just didn’t think it would do it right in the middle of a horde of zombies.