It was not a car.  It was a motorized scooter, customized to look like a motorcycle and sound like one, too.  The black scooter hurdled toward them at the alarming pace of four miles per hour.
                          
            "There's someone on that thing!" Wilson called out. 
                          
            Zane and Ethan tried to get a good look at the driver.  It was clear there was someone in the seat.  The blinking yellow lights illuminated the slick black of a helmet.  
                          
            "I don't think it's alive," Ethan said.
                          
            "Me, neither."
                          
            "I think it's heading this way."
                          
            Zane realized the course of the scooter was indeed on a path of destruction with the azalea bush.  He and Ethan grabbed Ricky's arms and pulled.  "Hurry!" Wilson called from the tree, and Zane and Ethan managed to jerk their unconscious friend out of way just as the scooter hit the bush and drove right on through it. 
                          
Momentarily, Zane thought the scooter was just going to keep on going and crash into the side of the house near where Josh was hiding.  His mind had concluded that the person on the scooter had died at some point while driving this thing down the road, and somehow the accelerator pedal or button or however this thing operated had been stuck.
                          
            Instead, the scooter bumbled to a stop.  Then it slowly turned around.
                          
            The thing driving the scooter was not alive.  Nor was it dead.  It was a sack of old skin and bones that vaguely resembled a senior citizen of indeterminate gender, wearing a printed hospital johnny and a threadbare blue bathrobe and black orthopedic socks that had fallen down to reveal thick, veiny white legs.
                          
            The thing had seen Zane and Ethan and Ricky, and it pushed forward on the little switch that moved the scooter forward.  
                          
            Luckily, the scooter didn't move much faster than one of the walking dead, despite its noisy motor, and Zane had plenty of time to hoist Ricky to his shoulders in a fireman's carry and avoid the scooter's trajectory.  He and Ethan danced out of the way.  Ethan had his baseball bat at the ready.
                          
            "Guys!" Wilson called.  "Head under the tree!"
                          
            As they jogged toward Wilson's hiding spot, Wilson got his handgun ready.  He aimed carefully, then pulled the trigger.
                          
            The shot would have popped off the head of the zombie, if it hadn't been wearing a helmet.  Unfortunately, the scooter was now hurtling toward the tree, where Wilson had lost his balance after the unexpected recoil of his weapon.
                          
            "Ack!" Wilson muttered, dangling from the limb.  "Guys, help!"
                          
            Zane set Ricky down as gently as he could, and got to the tree just as Ethan jumped aboard the runaway scooter and pried the corpse's cold, dead hand from the controls.  The scooter wound down to a stop just before hitting the tree.  
                          
            Zane placed Wilson's feet on his shoulders, and Wilson started to climb down.
                          
            "Safety," Ethan called. "Put the gun's safety on."
                          
            "Oh," said Wilson.  "Good idea."
                          
            He fumbled around for a second while his boots dug into Zane's shoulders.  Then he was able to descend without killing anyone.
                          
            "See?" Zane panted after they both had collapsed to the ground.  "You saved the day."
                          
            "Yeah I did," Wilson said, and held up his hand.  Zane gave him the biggest high five he could at the moment.
                          
            "That was crazy," said Josh, rejoining the group.  He picked up a stick and poked at the corpse in the scooter.  "Seriously.  That's a zombie.  This is for real."
                          
            "We're all going to die," wept Dylan or Tyler.
                          
            "Pull yourself together!" snapped Rebecka, holding her handful of broken fingers.  
                          
            "Hey, where's Jose?"
                          
            They looked over at where Jose was still playing dead.  Hunter jogged over and tapped Jose on the shoulder.  Jose's arm swung wide, with his knife out.  Hunter staggered back.  "Hey, stop!  Jose!"
                          
            "WHAT'S GOING ON?" Jose yelled.
                          
            "For the love of God, shut up!" hissed Hunter as Jose's words echoed along Palm Street.
                          
            Zane slowly got up and went back for Ricky.  "We need to move out," he said over his shoulder.  "I'm sure there are many more zombies out there."
                          
            "Leave me," moaned Ricky.
                          
            "No way," Zane said, getting his arm around Ricky and lifting.  Ethan trotted over to help.  "Leave no man behind."
                          
            "You know who would have said that well?" Wilson said from the tree.  "Mason.  He was such a good soldier."  He looked up at the sky and shook a fist.  "Don't you wish you hadn't killed him off so soon?"