Z and Me
The taillights swerved erratically as the car skidded to a stop. I almost didn’t get in with the wild-eyed man, but I wasn’t sure I could flag another ride so late at night.
“Glad to see they haven’t got you, yet.”
“They?”
“You know your way around a shotgun?”
“Umm...”
I’d hitched with crazy people before, without trouble; mostly, if you pretended to listen to their rambling, they’d take you anywhere. But this guy’s violent nonsense was scaring me.
I was thinking how to get away when we topped a rise and plowed into a phalanx of lurching flesh.
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