Jon grabbed my arm as the zombies tucking into what was left of Kate took notice of us; Fresh meat, ready for the taking. Knowing how quick the zombies were now, it didn’t take much deliberation time before we turned and sprinted to the car. My ankle was weak and unbelievably painful as was being used far more than it should have been. The reality was that it should be in a cast, with me off my ta-tas on tramadol, foot raised as I rested it for several weeks. That fantasised luxury couldn’t have been further apart from the treatment my injury was receiving, as I had been putting weight on it, hurtling myself over fences onto it, cramping it up in a confined car designed to hold 4 yet yielding 7, and now running heavily on it. Every step released new found pain up from my foot through every vein in my body, but I knew the pain would be much worse should I let that get the better of me. We both ran as fast as our legs would carry us, the zombies yapping at our heels in the process.
