As he walked around the vehicle, he peered inside. Cautiously, he reached his hand in through the cracked window, watching the body on the backseat. His heart pounded in his throat as he flicked the lock. Alive, dead or undead? He froze when the lock clicked, feeling like it was so much louder than it should have been. But the figure still didn’t move. He retracted his hand and, quietly as he could, opened the door. Her arm fell freely out and he saw the unkempt blonde hair of a young woman. On her hip was a sheathed knife and on the floor, where her other hand dangled down to, was a gun. It looked like it was police issued, but he figured he shouldn’t be surprised these days what people wound up with.
He tensed and backed up further as she moved, her fingers tensing, her hips shifting slightly as though she wanted to wake, but couldn’t. And then she murmured something, and he drew closer to ensure they were words. Living Human words… and not the inaudible mumbles and groans of a reanimated corpse. She breathed a name… or part of a name.
When she didn’t respond, he bent down and slid his hands under her arms, pulling her along the back seat and out, her legs falling as her feet dropped to the ground. She was completely dead weight under him. He laid her down in the grass. He checked the car to see if there was anything else and found a worn, tattered backpack. Pulling it out, he set it in the grass beside her and opened it. Inside, it was stuffed with mostly large, crumpled maps.