Hospital

Do you want to hear the sequel? I thought so. Where was I? Oh yeah. So, we blew up the car. And then what? The horde would break the spell and march on to feast on our bones. Couldn’t be better!

But this is a bridge we’re talking about. There were so many cars that surely there would be at least one with fuel. Without giving it a thought or two, people almost instantly wanted to rush to the nearest Hummer. I shouted: “Hey, don’t try to bite off more than you can chew.”

Why? Look, pal, the Hummer is recognizable, huge, and needs A LOT of fuel to drive at least 10 miles, and no one had taken it away. You could bet there was no fuel inside. We had to look for an old pickup truck. Their drivers always carry an extra tank of gas in them.
So we crept quietly like mice. Can you imagine the number of cars we had to crawl by? There were so many! We even had found Ferrari at some point, but it was dismantled. We began to lose hope, I thought to myself: “Damn, all the gasoline must’ve been long drained. There’s little time before a fraction of the horde would find us.”

Right as the thought crossed my brain, I saw it: a thing of beauty. Dodge ‘87! I thought: “This is it! If there is fuel on this god-forsaken bridge, it must be in this baby.” And as luck would have it: keys in the ignition, gas in the tank, the car on the move. We sat down and drove off.

What was next, you ask? We just followed the plan: broke into the hospital, killed some zombies, searched the hospital, packed the supplies.

Just before we were about to leave, I heard rustling in the corner. I went to check and saw you: a boy with a scalpel in his hand, trembling all over with fear, looking really crazy. Well, you know the rest.

So, what’s your story?