It soon become apparent to Luna that while she could peddle the bike fast, she couldn't keep it up, and soon she knew she would fall victim to...to the walking dead. She needed to find another means of transport, and hopefully someone else. Safety in numbers, right? Especially since she had already run into two groups of stumbling, walking, horrible dead. Some had gunshot wounds in their chests, One had, horribly, been gutted, its intestines, guts and god knows what else tumbling out the horrible hole in its chest. She hadn't liked that one bit. 

Yet it told her that they couldn't be killed, well killed again, by a shot to the chest. Coming across a dead body, with a gun shot to the head, told her they could be killed by killing the brain. She didn't knowif she had the courage to do that though, and thus she tried to avoid them. But she was starting to become terrified, and she had yet to see someone llving. She began to wonder if she was the only one left in the city. 

And thus she didn't see the golf cart as she came barrelling towwards it as she looked about her, and she crashed into it. Scrambling out from under the bike, a graze elbow and probably bruised, she brushed herself down, looking about wide eyed, seeing the man int he cart, she immediately started to sign, before realising that they probably couldn't  understand her. She held up a hand, the universal signal for wait as she quickly got her notepad and pen out, writing [i][color=f6989d]"I'm so sorry! I'm Luna!Do you have room?"[/color][/i] it took her seconds to write it, and she handed it over, glancing about fearfully in case her crashing had attracted some dead. She looked back to the man, wide eyed still, and jigging nervously. 

[i][color=f6989d]"Please"[/color][/i] She mouthed, seriously contemplating just jumping into the cart, pressing her hands together in a begging gesture. She would have whined if she could. 

[@Orlan]