The snow was starting to fall thicker now, and the white coat on the road and fields seemed to make the night brighter.  He flicked the headlights off but didn’t slow down.  There wasn’t much gas in the tank and he didn’t want to draw every zombie for miles around.  Rhoda yelped at him.

“We’ve got to risk it.  We’re not advertising a buffet here.”

His breath turned to ice and he looked down for a moment to turn the heat on.  When he looked up, he saw a pair of zombies appearing out of the shadows right in his path.  He tried to dodge, but the wheels slid on the fresh snow.  The SUV bucked as one of the zombies flew over the hood.  The impact sent them spinning even more and the whole world wrenched as the vehicle slammed on its side.  Sparks flew, lighting the night for only a moment before they drowned in the snow.

He hadn’t put a seatbelt on, so his head hit the roof.  A moment later, Rhoda tumbled into him.  He locked his arms around her and tired to protect her with his body.  Something, probably the steering wheel, struck his abdomen.  Pain caused his vision to blur and he fought against passing out.  He was losing the battle until he felt something wet on his face.  Part of his brain was worried it was blood, until he smelled dog breath.

“I’m awake.  Five more minutes.”

Rhoda wouldn’t let up though, and as his thoughts came back to him, his eyes snapped open.  When he tried to move, one of his legs burned like it was on fire.  Using his other leg, he kicked out the windshield, or what was left of it.  Rhoda trotted out over the broken glass and then stood there whining at him.

Dragging himself out slowly, he tried to look around as he did.  Back through the twisted wreckage of the SUV, he saw the zombie he hadn’t run over was shuffling after them.  He reached for his knife and only felt the empty sheath.  He’d had it on the seat next to him before the crash.

“Great time to lose my weapon.  Keep an eye on that one Rhoda.”

She barked at him to get moving as he reached down and picked up a piece of the windshield.  It didn’t look very sharp, but it would have to do.  His injured leg wouldn’t hold any weight.  He felt like screaming every time he stepped on it.  Even though Rhoda started to run off as soon as she saw him stand, he held his ground.  He wouldn’t be able to outrun even one zombie.  He needed to take it out.

It’d been a woman, the tattered remains of long hair drifted in patches around its head.  He gripped the glass in one hand and the bumper in the other, ready to attack.  Then he saw more shapes starting to move into view behind the curtain of falling snow.  Two, three, four, he stopped counting.  Too many to fight.