After finishing his cigar, Fred threw it on the mossy cement and stamped it out, starting to whistle. He pulled out his pocket watch and stared at it. "Two-thirty-six." he announced to some murmuring. It would be sun-down relatively soon, and without the lights of the skyscrapers and cars and everything else it would be darker than in what was now so easy to call "the good old days." Fred began to walk over to the vehicles, before some weird loud noise erupted from afar, yet too close for comfort. He was at this point climbing onto one of them and was knocked off; as he fell he slapped his hands down like a kiddie who just did karate and thought he was cool and then stood, leaning against the vehicle whilst clutching his head. Then he saw the first of them crawling from an alley, whoever the person was before shit hit the fan he was certainly big and buff, but the classification of the thing would be hard. 

The man ran quickly to the driver of the car and shouted "Drive back, drive back now!" The man gave him a puzzled look thinking what just happened came from his headphones and then pulled them out. "Drive!" he screamed but the driver seemed to want confirmation of whether this should be and stepped out. By the time the man made six steps towards Eli already masses of the clicking things were coming. "You drive! Reverse the damn thing and lets get home! Come on!" he shouted, and the shocked man in the other seat went in place of his compatriot and hesitated a millisecond before putting the car in reverse and rather slowly making it go backwards. To the dismay of Fred, [b]they[/b] were catching up. Fred stood and took aim from his pistol, turning on the laser sight. His hands swerved left and right, his palms began to sweat and his breathing got faster. There were too many targets, but all of them too far. People were already going down screaming, but he couldn't help. If he shot now he might miss, but this would attract more of the things specifically to him and his truck. 


This was no time to play hero.


He lowered his pistol to wipe some sweat off of his forehead and then took aim once again as heroism overrode utilitarianism, but then lowered it. He hopped onto the trucks's side and held on to it's mirror and opened window with one hand, whilst holding his gun. It seemed that the new driver was someone who wanted to save his hide too, just like him and thought like him since he was driving back despite the fact that it had space for many more passengers, and those who couldn't make a turn of speed were getting left behind. People staying back and fighting - the fools - were blasting away massive supplies of bullets but the things were getting ever closer and the screams of pain Fred heard meant that for some people they got just a bit [i]too[/i] close. Some idiot even shouted "Get back here you cowards!" but Fred did nothing but look for the zeds that broke through what little lines they had and were going for the truck. After a few shots he saw that they were starting to make some distance from the rest of the party despite the fact that more and more people were retreating and either catching up or begging the driver to slow down... he didn't. After a few more shots and the click of an empty magazine Fred looked at his pistol reflectively and then at the people still fighting.

They probably wouldn't hear him, but as the suspicious naturalist looked at the mounting casualties he simply said "I'm sorry."