Hunter jumped into the driver seat of his old pickup truck. First thing he did was throw the pump action into the passenger seat. He soon noticed that those new people he was trusting sat in the back of this truck, where he kept the .22 rifle. Loaded and ready to fire. Trust, that's what he had to tell himself, Trust. Hunter could see more walkers coming in near the truck. The first girl was still asking him to wait before leaving. "[color=007236]We need to go now! We're running out of time![/color]" Almost as soon as he said it the other girl ran out of the store, she jumped in telling Hunter to go. "[color=007236]Fine! Fine! Hold on![/color]" He screamed back.

Hunter attempted to start the truck, the first attempt the old thing just stalled on him. "[color=007236]Shit...[/color]" The walkers started closing in on them. He attempted to start again, this time it started with the what seemed to be the entire engine running rust and loos parts, it popping and grinding with every action. But it was running now. 

Hunter kicked the truck into drive and sped out of the parking lot and into the street. Infected everywhere. Why the hell did he fire that damn gun. That damn gun was the loudest thing he owned and he decided to use that instead of that damn .22 rifle. But that didn't matter now, now all that mattered was getting out alive. He drove the truck out of town as far as it would go. Though he wasn't sure where to go. If he went back to his place these two would know where he lives now, but he didn't know where else to go. So once at a safe distance he pulled over. Then stepped out of the truck with the shotgun held in one hand. "[color=007236]So? You two want to go anywhere specific?[/color]"