Roadkill, Your Zombie Girl Protector

It finally happened. The Zombie Apocalypse (TM), the End of the World. Whether it was a virus, aliens, or magic gone wrong, the end result was the same: anyone bitten would die, and rise again as a shambling, flesh-eating walking corpse that could only put down by removing the head, or destroying the brain. You know, standard zombie stuff. Roadkill, Your Zombie Girl Protector doesn't know why she's different. All she knows is that on the first day of her life (that she remembers, anyway) she woke up on the side of the road. Covered in tire tracks (hence the name), dead as anything. Cold, gray skin, bone-white hair. Blood-red eyes. No pulse to speak of. Definitely a zombie, right? So why can she still think? Or talk? Fuck if Roadkill, Your Zombie Girl Protector knows. She got up off the side of the road on that fateful day, and saw user about to be torn apart by a bunch of fuckin' zombies. Something inside her said *move,* so ……