Mud splashed as the vehicle rammed through the surging zombies and returned to the highway. Their vacation journey continued.
Before long, Martha brought the woman they had just rescued to the area behind the driver's seat. Standing in the aisle, she said in a sweet voice:
"She isn't hurt. We did it!"
The old man driving smiled as well, the weight finally lifting from his heart.
He had originally been lost in the face of the sudden apocalypse, but after successfully saving someone through his own driving, the joy and sense of accomplishment immediately made him straighten his back.
"Thank you! Oh my God, I thought I was going to die! Awoohoohoo!"
The rescued woman covered her face and began to cry. Of course, these were tears of joy.
The woman was about five feet three inches tall, and her waistline was about the same. Her arms were thicker than Martha's thighs. She wore a tight, soaking-wet white dress and carried a cloth bag full of canned food, stained with specks of blood.
Though she was probably over fifty, her complexion was rosy, her hair golden, and even her wailing was exceptionally loud. She was truly a formidable woman.
"You're welcome, ma'am. In a situation like this, it's only right that we save people. Besides, Mack deserves the most credit for getting you out safely."
Martha supported the older woman by the arm to keep her from collapsing from lack of oxygen. At the same time, she pointed her chin at the driver, smiling brightly.
The crying woman wiped her face, sniffed a few times, and looked toward the driver with bleary eyes.
She froze for a moment. Then color rose to her pale face, and even her voice became gentler. Her sausage-thick fingers twisted together as she lowered her