The craziest bitch. Let's not mince words. If he wasn't going to leave the cab before the zombies came to the raiding party, she would have murdered him and left him as company to that rotting corpse just outside. He'd be daddy to a whole gutfulls worth of maggots in about a day.
That she had opened the driver's side door instead of the passenger one as she intended was quickly forgotten. There was only one thing on her mind and that was getting the fuck out of there. Didn't matter if he was hitching a ride. Though, when one of those brain suckers slammed a fist through the glass T was glad he was there.
Just as he was saying the word "fucking" with his helpful suggestion, she pressed on the gas and the tires kicked up a Texas dust cloud so thick it mighta worked as a smoke shield if the clingers weren't tapped into some other ancient instinct that kept them lurching forward for blood and guts. When the truck had a burst of speed, she slammed on the breaks, throwing Mr. Grabby Hands from the hood.
The weight in the back helped prevent it from fishtailing when she pressed her foot to the gas again and the truck flew straight down the road. There were the loud sounds of dead meat thumping down from the top of the truck and hitting the clay, leaving a trail of road rash behind them as they burned on down the road.
The gun could have gone off and killed him but it hadn't. When she eased up on the gas until they came to a stop the gun was still pointed and she asked, "I could kick you out. What do you think? "