Stepping out into the bright sunshine with Rodeo on her heels, her hearing temporarily deadened from the gun discharge, Lita is initially elated to see the parking lot looks clear. Maybe this handoff would go off without a hitch. At this point, the two of them could really use a win. As soon as she thinks this, Lita hears Rodeo curse through the ringing in her ears. She turns to the sound and echoes his sentiment, seeing a swarm of walkers lurching out from behind the restaurant. They are relatively slow-moving but they're double the size of the horde inside, and even thought Lita hasn't dealt with any infected on a large scale, she knows they pose a threat. Where there's one there's ten, and where there are shufflers, crawlers can't be far behind. God help them if any runners get wind of them.
Or, rather, her. Clearly, she's the attraction, what with being basted in their favorite BBQ sauce and all. Rodeo's starting to struggle under the considerable weight of his buddy and when he turns to her about his keys, Lita feels the air go out of her. The setback only gives the geeks time to advance on them and they don't have the advantage or firepower to make a stand. Knowing she had to buy them some time while she fished Rodeo's car keys out of his stupidly tight jeans, Lita does the first thing she can think of to distract the zombies before the two of them get overrun.
She takes her gun and, not wanting to drop it to the ground out of fear it might go off and shoot her in the face, shoves the muzzle down the back of Rodeo's jeans. Hoping the metallic scent of blood smells more intoxicating than her, Lita rips her flannel shirt open, scattering buttons in all directions. She balls it up and throws it upwind of the biters, hoping to draw them away from the vehicles. Her tight, white tank top underneath is relatively free of blood and Lita prays to whoever might be listening that the motion of her throw coupled with the scent of the blood will be enough of a distraction. The lurkers are slow to change course but as the scent reaches whatever olfactory senses they still have left, they turn, moving to Lita's flannel on the ground several yards away.
"You owe me a shirt," Lita says, reaching for Rodeo. Facing him, the angle is all wrong to quickly delve into his pant's pocket for the keys. She draws in close to his chest, a difficult feat with 250 plus pounds of dead weight over his shoulder but it's the only way to slide her palm against the front of his pants. With one hand clutching the front of his shirt for some slight leverage, Lita snakes the other into his front pocket. She can feel the the strength and tension radiating from him from supporting his friend's weight as she gropes.
"If you think this is the craziest thing a guy has ever done to get me to stick my hand down his pants," Lita says through gritted teeth as she moves against him. "You're dead wrong."
She's so close to him she swears she can feel his heartbeat through his shirt and with her hand sliding down his thigh, the whole situation might be intensely erotic if they weren't about to die. Who was she kidding, the whole danger aspect just amps up the sexiness ten-fold. Before she can even process how insane this notion is, Lita's fingers catch Rodeo's keyring and she whips it out of his pocket. She takes her gun back from waistband and, making sure no stranglers have come too close, closes the distance between her and his truck quickly. She shoves the key into the ignition and the truck jumps to life.
The revving engine attracts the attention of the walkers, who have lost interest in pawing Lita's discarded clothing. Lita positions herself halfway between their vehicles so that when he finally heaves the body into the truck, she can leap into hers and speed off. That is, if she doesn't accidentally shoot Rodeo in the process.
"Move your ass!" Lita yells, knowing they only have seconds to spare.