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We stopped where we were, in the street, to survey the group blocking our way further. This group seemed tight, or compact like a pack of wolves huddled close together. We guessed the crowd was made up of anywhere from six to eight individuals. My vote was to wait for them to move along, but Branden was more inclined to have me ram them with my car. I hesitated when he proposed this.
     
    “ No way. This is our only functional car, and it’s my car. Besides, there might be more inside. I don’t want to risk getting stuck somewhere without a working vehicle,” I said.
     
    “ Oh, come on! Does it matter whose car it is? Look around!” He leaned up closer to the glass. “There’s a car!” He glanced at me with his mouth gaping and eyes wide. Pointing at another car, he said, “Jesus Christ! Praise the Lord! There’s another! Wanna trade this four-banger in for that truck over there?” He pounded his hand on my dash.
     
    Sarcasm, I usually like it.
     
    I shook my head and stated that I wasn’t willing to charge into a fight where we were outnumbered three to one. He slumped back in his seat with a sigh. But while I was looking out at the group of infected, he managed to reach across the console of my car and honk the horn a time or two. The zombies down the road instantly looked our way. A couple yelled a horrific and unbridled scream as they started running toward us.
     
    I looked over at Branden and wagged a finger in his face. “You asshole!”
     
    He shrugged, and a coy smile stretched across his cheeks. Silently saying to me, Whatcha gonna do about it? I groaned and turned my attention to the road. The car purred, not roared, like a kitten as it attempted to pick up speed like a Formula One racer when I smashed my foot into the accelerator.
     
    Branden was, without a doubt, toying with death. This was not the time or setting to be making rash, impulsive, or thoughtless decisions. We will die if he continues to do stupid things like this. Just thinking about his behavior enrages me. He put our lives and our only means of transportation at risk without knowing with absolute confidence that we would get food out of it. A heavy amount of caution will be taken when Branden is around from now on.
     
    We crashed through the infected—well at least most of them, I think. I couldn’t tell how many we had actually hit because blood drenched the windshield after the first two. The windshield wipers worked, but only small areas of the glass were wiped clean. I could only see through a small portion of the glass by leaning forward and pressing myself into the steering wheel. The sounds of the vehicle hitting the zombies were surprisingly loud, and the car shook hard with each one. I figured we hit them going at least forty-five miles an hour, but I can’t remember.
     
    Trying with my best effort, I kept the vehicle on the road. Assuming that the few infected we didn’t hit were now running behind us, we didn’t have the option of stopping. I drove as well as I could and tried to safely get us up the hill to the Warehouse. I jerked the wheel after briefly seeing the entrance of the employee parking lot with little time to react. I misjudged its distance and ended up driving up the curb onto the grassy hill that surrounds the fenced-in parking lot.
     
    I cursed aloud when a metallic cracking sound came from my car. It jumped down the next curb while I was aiming for the drop-down gate. Another loud noise—this time a bang and crunch—reverberated through the car as if I had run over something big. We broke through the wooden drop-down gate, which has an odd resemblance to a railroad crossing. Cracks were spider webbed over the windshield. I would have been rather irate about all the damage to my car, all thanks to Branden, but I was too busy trying to make sure we were going to end up an adequate distance from the pursuing infected when we reached the parking lot.
     
    I pushed the brakes to a stop about fifty