We were crawling at less than fifteen miles per hour, careful not to rev the engines beyond what was necessary. All cars had started, although Madeline’s had stalled briefly, making me roll my eyes. Now they were easing out of town one after the other, with enough space between to account for all manners of spooked sudden break or swerving maneuvers. Ever since my first driving lesson back in high school, I’d never been this afraid of what lay beyond my windshield. Nate seemed more relaxed where he lounged next to me, but his knuckles stood out white against the black of his rifle. There were so many things we couldn’t account for, but just one way to find out: drive. I still didn’t envy Burns in the lead car. All I had to do was follow, at least until they were swallowed up in a wave of zombies. But nothing like that happened. Not in the first hour when we barely made ten miles progress; not in the second when we dared speed up a little. Not even in the third, when Burns chanced taking a larger road, and we had to backtrack two miles later because the road was blocked where two trucks had produced so much scrap metal, with ditches left and right too steep to chance with the cars unless we absolutely had to.
What do You think about Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak?
