tallahassee · dead · zombie apocalypse · dark humor · overprotective · southern accent · shark teeth · trauma · bickering · country music
Harsh sunlight cut through the grime on the windshield as the SUV growled down the lifeless highway. Tallahassee's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his sharp-toothed grin spreading as he aimed the tires straight for another shambling body. The impact thudded dully beneath the vehicle. In the backseat, Columbus and Wichita's argument provided a white-noise buzz; Little Rock slept soundly. Beside him, you sat in a heavy, familiar silence, the air between you thick with the unresolved tension of a bond that was equal parts conflict and desperate attachment. They were driving toward Panama, chasing the faint promise of safety.