Fight for your life

Chapter Eight

-Roughly 3 hours later-
Of course, I spoke too soon. The zombies had finally moved on, but not before they managed to push it out about 100 ft down the road, and towards the top of a small hill, where it was dangerously close to tipping on its side, where it would roll down the hall until it hit the trees. Murdoc and I are carefully sitting in position, leaning against the left side in an attempt to keep it on the road, and of course to keep warm. It's the coldest it's been in months, and the thin black blanket is barley helping. Murdoc's arms are warm and inviting, but I try to avoid leaning on him to much, or getting to comfortable. Partially because we're in a zombie apocalypse, and getting comfortable never ends well, but mostly because of the suspicion I feel towards his feelings for me. At first I thought he just respected me because of my military 'position'. But lately, he's seemed a little clingy, and I get a more admiration vibe than respect, and I don't want to lead him on. The apocalypse isn't exactly a great time for romance. Really it's not a great time for anything. Except maybe being a serial killer. I pause, feeling a little sick to my stomach. They're already dead, I remind myself as my emotions begin to catch up. All the people who's lives I've ended.
"Do you think it could be reversed?" I ask, gazing out the window, where I can see silhouettes moving. From here, they look like normal people.
Murdoc stares down at me for a long moment, before shaking his head. "No. That'd be impossible-"
"But we don't know that-"
"Jones," he says sternly, his frown barley visible. "They can't, and even if they could, no one would bring them back to life. They're all rotting bodies, and most of them have injuries that would kill them all over again. They're dead." I stay silent, not wanting to admit that he's right, even if his logic does put me at ease. We stay silent, listening to the swarm stumble, occasionally stiffening when one got too close, and would hit the large car, which was now at a 45 degree angle, half on the road, half in the ditch. I want to make sure the car is in park, but I don't want to risk a zombie seeing the movement in the widows- we'd definitely be tipped then.
If we do get tipped, would we die? Probably. Either from the car crushing us, or maybe the impact, or if neither of those did, the windows would be shattered, and the noise would draw the horde to us- we'd be torn to shreds in seconds.
After a minute, I take to trying to tune out the dead's groans, but it's mostly in vain. Murdoc stays quiet, and after a few minutes of silence, I rest my head on his shoulder, getting comfortable enough to attempt sleep, which surprisingly comes quickly.

Once I wake up, for a moment, everything is calm. It's bright, and warm, and I feel safe- until I realize what woke me. A soft knock makes me jump, and Murdoc tightens his arm around me and tenses up, his gun already in hand, and I realize, it's definitely not Scout and the others. I take the gun from my pocket and sit up, peeking out the window, at the tall, dorky looking red head with a machete. Two men stand behind, both holding knives as well. "Stand down," I say, pushing Murdoc's arm off me before replacing my gun in my waistband. "No guns. No injuries. Let's chat." I say, praying it's only the three of them, and that the others are safe.
"What?" Murdoc asks, eyes wide.
"What are we gonna do, refuse to get out?" I ask, sighing and reaching for the hatch.
"Fine," he says before he puts an arm around my waist and pulls me closer, like he's going to protect me from an attack.
"Really?" I ask as the trunk door rises, pushing his arm off and climbing out of the vehicle. "Um, hi." I say, waving awkwardly. The red head's eyes widen, and he looks surprised for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops. "Ooookay," I say, straightening up. Murdoc wrapped his arm around me again, and I push it off as the boy shakes his head and finally speaks.
"I'm David," he says, putting his machete into his belt. "This is Conor and James," he gestures at either man before continuing. "Are either of you bitten?"
"I'm Ricky, and this is Murdoc... and no," I say, raising an eyebrow. "You?"
"No," he says with a smile.
"Is this all of you?" I ask as Murdoc looks around.
"It's all that's out here, yeah." He answers. "You?"
I narrow my eyes and shake my head slowly. "We have others, at a safe distance," I say, narrowing my eyes again.
"How many?" The red head asks, tilting his head. "We have a safe place close by. Food, water, power."
"How many people?" I ask as Murdoc puts a hand on my shoulder.
"14. You?"
"5," I answer, considering all the ways this could go terribly. We could be lead to an ambush, or be eaten. Raped. Tortured.
"Come with us." David says, gesturing behind him.
"To where?" I ask, not moving.
"We shouldn't follow them," Murdoc hisses.
"It's a little motel up the road-" His buddy, Conor, elbows him in the rib, making him grunt, before whispering in his ear. Murdoc doesn't look away from the men as he whispers to me.
"I don't like this. If he's telling the truth, and there's 14 of them, we couldn't fight them off. And it could be a trap-"
"I know," I say, turning to him. "I know. But what if it's not?" He finally turns to me, his muddy gaze as intense as ever.
"I know you want to believe in this, Jones, I do too, but we can't put everyone in danger."
"Danger?" I ask, annoyed. "Every second of every day we're in danger-"
"And we shouldn't do reckless things-"
"Alright," I say, turning back to the boys, who all turn around, surprised. "Let us find our group. Then we'll talk."