Zombie Flash Fiction: The Little Bugout Truck

With a knapsack full of peanut butter, I rounded the corner and ran down the alley behind the grocery store.  I looked over my shoulder to glance back at the horde on my heels.  That was enough of a distraction for me to get my feet mixed up and send me tumbling.  But, in this world, you can't stay down.  I was up in an instant and I hopped, limped, and otherwise made my way back to my little yellow truck.  I climbed in and looked over to see the dead clawing at my windows.  It's always an inconvenient time to dig your keys out of your deepest pocket.

The dead were drooling on my windshield as I finally started the truck.  As it started up with one turn of the key, I smiled and reflected on my little truck.  I  always thought I'd want a really big four-wheel-drive truck with a winch and brush bars just in case the world came to an end.  Now that the world has actually come to the end, I'm glad I have a simple and reliable little vehicle  that sips fuel, cranks every time, and is incredibly reliable.

I put my little truck into drive, accelerated to thirty, and slammed on the brakes.  It was fun to see the dead roll off the hood and down the road.  Escape was simply matter of making a quick turn and hitting the gas.  I left the dead behind me in the rearview mirror.  

When I'm surrounded by a horde, I can't have car trouble.  You can't just call AAA for a jumpstart or a tow.

Photo by:  Ildar Sagdejev (Specious), CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons