"Well, I'm still alive, if it's good for your bet on me." Sam said, and he heard moans and groans in the background. Clearly, they wanted him to blubber like a little girl.
"What can you tell me about the mutated Brutes. They seem to be a bit... Jumpy. I'd like some more information." He finished, Noticing something out in the snow.
Stepping out of the Jeep, Sam pulled his P90 up and fired a five-round burst, hitting a man sized target in the gut with all the shots. The thing leaped at him, slamming the cellphone out of his hand and pinning him to the jeep with its claws. A Prowler! Sam thought, using his need to name things as a scapegoat for fear. The prowler pulled its claws out and swiped at Sam again.
Sam fired again, the bullets finding something weird in its chest. The creature fell back, this time for good. Sam noticed a Black viscous subject seeping out of the prowler. When it touched the ground, the highway pavement started to melt.
Hmmm, acid for blood, or a nice little acid pouch in its chest. Great assurance of enemy death if it get its chest blown out.
Sam picked up his cellphone.
"Vlad, we've got other worries..." He said as he stepped into the Jeep and warmed up a little.
Deep thought #1: In the end, everyone dies. No one can outrun time, death itself is always breathing down your neck, just waiting to slip the noose over you. But, in your time of death, what matters is not when or how or even why. What matters is what you do with it. Do you sit down and call it quits, or do you get up, stare your killer and death itself in the face, and laugh copiously, right until the end.