Mark had hardly registered that the driver had said anything until he felt the truck take a violent jerk to the left. He had just enough time to get a good grip on the edge of the flatbed, but the motion of his body weight suddenly shifting to one side was almost enough to throw him off. The second time the driver said something, he made sure to pay attention.<br/><br/>"Julian! Do you have your cell? Fuck! I don't know where mine is!"<br/><br/>Well, he wasn't Julian. He actually wasn't sure who Julian<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>, but if he had to use context clues he'd likely peg him as the other Hispanic man in the back with him. Mark didn't wait for Julian to answer for two reasons. The first being that he had his cell handy, and the second being that getting to the truck's rear windshield meant getting away from the edge of the bed and that alone was enough to make him half-crawl up to the window, jiggling the sliding pane a second before it opened. His hand shot to his jean pocket and producing his phone, tapping the driver on the shoulder with it. The sounds of shouting and whatever loud-ass gurgling those things made jerked his attention upright and he looked through the windshield, the phone slipping from his fingers and onto the seat of the truck.<br/><br/>Arms covered in graying skin and blackened veins took swipes at a man standing atop an SUV, doing his best just to keep away from grabbing hands. Mark looked to the truck's driver, and panic set into his features just as determination set in on the other man's. He was about to protest, but the truck suddenly jerked forward and the sound of bodies hitting the car or the sickening sound of them going<span style="font-style: italic">under</span>overtook whatever argument he could have possibly formed against the idea.<br/><br/>And then there was a gunshot.<br/><br/>Mark jerked his head away from where he'd poked it through the rear windshield, a loud and insistent ringing drowning out the sounds of the world around him. Just the increasing sound of white noise made him want to vomit, let alone his dizziness from being in a car crash and then sliding around on the back of a flatbed, but he shook it off the best he could and stood up in a half-crouch, withdrawing his pistol from where it had been tucked into the back of his pants. In one swift motion, the safety was flipped off and Mark held the pistol steadily in front of him. He shot once, twice, and then reached his hand out as the body slid down the side of the car and crumpled haphazardly on the ground. "Get on!"<br/><br/><br/>Ethan hurriedly gazed around his surroundings taking whatever shot he could into the mass of bodies, until finally he saw his salvation. A truck barreling towards him. At that sight, his head became clear again and he started stomping onto the sunroof of his SUV attempting to smash it in.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Get on!"</span>they cried out, but Ethan had bigger plans.<br/><br/>"Just hold on a second I got some things to bring onboard!"<br/><br/>Ethan finally smashed his boot into the sunroof and climbed in, ignoring any screams coming from his new friends. Feeling the need to show them quickly what he meant however, he grabbed a case of two desert eagles and their accompanying ammo and popped out to toss it over. "There's more where this came from just hold out!"<br/><br/><br/>Mark grabbed for the thick gun case so fast he damn near dropped his own gun. He laid it down on the flatbed, moving it along with his foot down to where someone could hold onto it. There weren't too many reasons someone could have for carrying many more firearms than that in a town like this, but whatever his reasoning Mark could only be glad for it. He had guns, and they could definitely use the protection. Reasons be damned for now, he guessed as he waited for the man to come back up with the rest of<span style="font-style: italic">whatever</span>was in his car so they could get the hell out of dodge.<br/><br/>A sick, gurgling sound caught his attention through the still-persistent ringing in his ears. He sight quickly turned, directed itself to the corpse-looking man slowly dragging himself to the side of the truck. Mark shot at him and yelled in spite of the panic in his voice, "Come on man we've gotta<span style="font-style: italic">go!</span>"