Free Dying Days 6 by Armand Rosamilia

unable to close the trunk again, dying a horrific death inside a car.
    She tried to remain calm and think reasonably. If she stayed in the hot trunk, she'd eventually die of dehydration, hunger or fear.
    It was time to move.
    Bernie opened the trunk a crack, the sound of the latch disengaging like an air horn. She was sure every zombie within fifty miles had heard it.
    When she pushed it open a bit so she could peek around, she didn't see zombies in her vicinity, but the view was obstructed because of how little she could see from the trunk.
    Bernie threw caution to the wind and opened the trunk, fighting against fatigue and cramped legs to get out as quickly as she could.
    A zombie, about twenty feet to her right, was walking the other way and somehow hadn't heard her.
    There were so many zombies walking in random directions but none had turned in her direction so far as Bernie stretched her legs, fearing she'd get a cramp if she started to move.
    Which way had Darlene actually gone? The obvious choice was her taking I-95 north, which was only a few feet away. If she followed the main road she could hopefully see any zombies coming at her like they'd done when they moved south, looking for a sanctuary that didn't really exist.
    Darlene had told her about Daytona Beach and the smart zombie ruling over the people. She didn't want to be a slave even if it meant protection. Or did she?
    She wondered why she needed to find Darlene anyway. What if she was wrong and Darlene was a wolf in sheep's clothing? Bernie would be powerless against such a creature.
    A nearby zombie turned and started to head in Bernie's direction without making a sound. If she hadn't been paying attention, the zombie might've gotten on top of her and taken her down.
    Bernie began to walk quickly. She needed to pace herself even though her heart was hammering and her instinct was to flee as quickly as her feet would let her.
    I can out-walk a zombie , she thought. I just can't get around too many of them or I'm in trouble.
    The ramp heading south was packed with zombies, all being funneled through the abandoned cars. She could see more up the onramp and over the bridge. There was no way she'd be heading south from this point.
    Bernie turned, gauging how far away the approaching zombie was and seeing with dismay several of his friends had now joined in, and decided to head back to the corner of Route 1 and take it south instead. The path would go through business areas with more chance of zombies and being ambushed but maybe she'd get a few miles down the road and I-95 would reconnect and she could use the major highway.
    Even a city controlled by a zombie was better than being out here in this. Every step you never knew which way to run or if the enemy was at the next intersection. And they were always there, waiting to rip you apart.
    Bernie knew she had a few hours to go before it would be too dark to continue so she wasted no time, jogging to her left and away from the zombies beginning to crowd the street.
    An abandoned Dunkin Donuts, glass shattered and drive-thru window on the ground, gave her somewhere to circle behind and out of sight. Most zombies gave up when they didn't see you anymore, continuing on their path.
    Ted had been a master at leading the zombies away from their group, putting them on another path. Bernie remembered someone questioning the logic of it in the beginning. Why not take the time to put the zombies down instead of letting them continue their quest for the living? Were they potentially shoving the zombies in a new direction, right in the path of another group?
    Ted's argument was simple: they didn't have enough ammo to put down every zombie in their way. There were too many, and one slip and you'd be dead. The risk wasn't worth the reward. Besides, how did anyone know if another group hadn't put these zombies in their path to begin with? They were just paying it forward for the next survivors. With any luck, no one down the line