"Goooooooood morning survivors of the Zompocalypse!" The radio fizzles with static, but Citizen Z's voice still comes through clear enough. "If you're hearing this, that means you're probably still alive. Congratulations!" The familiar greeting causes Felicity to slip out of sleep and into reality. "There's not much to mention today, other than the usual. Some thunderstorms in northeastern and central parts of the united states, some wandering zombies and even some good tunes." There's a click as a needle is placed on a record and music begins playing. "Remember the mission and stay safe out there. This has been Citizen Z." The music takes over and Felicity rolls away from the little machine.

The mission. The one everyone assumes belongs to Murphy alone. The world is in for a big surprise. Felicity is determined to make it to that lab in California before Murphy does. Call it a goal if you want. Felicity prefers to refer to it as destiny.

Cars sucked.

Cars really sucked.

Having to drive a car sucked like a hoover that just got a shot of NOS.

Gareth sighed and cranked the wheel to the left, turning down a small alley. The wide truck barely fit between the buildings but he'd had plenty of practice, and he'd torn off the side view mirrors the first time down that alley so it didn't matter anymore.

He stopped the truck below a fire escape and threw it into park. It took a little maneuvering but he was nimble and within a minute he had the keys in his pocket and had slid over the drivers seat and into the back.

The rear window slid open and he forced a duffle bag packed with supplies through the narrow opening. The bag landed in the bed with a loud thump and he quickly followed it out, pausing a moment to listen for the telltale sounds of the dead.

Nothing.

He grabbed the bag and pulled the strap over his head before he jumped and grabbed hold of the ladder dangling from the fire escape. Five minutes later and he was pushing up the window on the fifth floor of the high rise and slipped into the dimly lit apartment.

Blue Oyster Cult's (Don't) Fear the Reaper was playing on the static filled radio and he couldn't help a grin.

"Looks like Z has good taste in music still," he called out. "Come on in, Felicity. I found some ravioli while I was out."

Without waiting for a reply he dumped the duffle bag onto a table and started pulling out canned food and other various sundries.

The crackling of the radio stirred a sleeping Lawrence Macintosh from his sleep, laying on the bank in the back of his truck. He had left the radio on all night, looking for a signal, anything. Lawrence wasn't really familiar with what was going on in the crazy state that the world found itself now. The last he heard, there was a contagious disease. Then, suddenly, the dead started to walk the earth and he was stranded in the middle if Michigan, hundreds of miles away from anywhere he could call home. His mother and hometown were at least three states away and the lumber camp, where he had been staying for the last 9 years, was all the way up in northern Canada. Lawrence was stuck, sleeping in his broken down truck and desperately looking for humans that wouldn't eat him.

This morning, after turning off the radio so it wouldn't attract the undead, Lawrence prepared to go out and look for food. He had eaten almost all of what he had stashed in his truck and drive throughs weren't exactly and option these days.

Clutching his axe, holding it close to his body, Lawrence wandered down the street, making sure to remember where he had left his truck. Down the alley way, he saw a leader dangling from a fire escape. He knew it was a bad idea to even think about climbing up it but what choice did he have. As Lawrence neared the ladder with every step, he contemplated whether he could just continue to walk past it or try his luck with the ladder.

Felicity remained on her side, her back turned to both the radio and Gareth. A few moments of music passed before the clatter of various things hitting the table drowned it out.

"Is it that offbrand shit, or is it the real-deal-Chef-Boyardee shit. 'Cause I could go for some Chef Boyardee." She finally rolled herself out of bed and leaned tiredly against the doorframe.

Her hair frizzed with static from the bed and her clothes were all wrapped around her funny, suggesting a hard night's sleep. The bags under her eyes lent to the sight, though one might also contribute it to her "condition."

She crossed her arms over her chest and watched Gareth do whatever he was doing.

"It's edible shit, so I'll thank you to be a little appreciative and not give me any of your shit about it." He grabbed a can of the table and tossed it her direction. It was Chef Boyardee mini ravioli.

Gareth pulled the top off a can himself and dug a couple of forks out of his bag. He tossed one to felicity and started digging into the cold can.

"Any plan on what you wanna do?" He asked around a mouthful of noodles. "You keep talking about this CDC lab but we haven't been going anywhere. Think the two of us could make it by our lonesomes?"

With the option too good to dismiss, Lawrence forced himself to take the chance and climb up the fire escape. Although his ascension was not as graceful nor silent as he would have liked. His axe was rather bulky and he had no place to mount it while he climbed. The metal of the axe clanged against the fire escape, making Lawrence cringe every time. He knew the undead were drawn to noise like flies to horse shit. But there were others that were alarmed by noise: humans.

Lawrence's previous encounters with other humans over the last few days had been less than pleasant. All of a sudden, everyone assumed that you had harmful intentions and took it upon themselves to hold you at gun point until you proved them wrong. The area seemed pretty deserted so Lawrence had his fingers crossed that no one would be in the apartment when he finally got up to it.

Felicity caught the can, giving Gareth an excuuuuuuuuuse me expression. It disappeared when the fork came at her. She caught it and then gave him a smile. "Edible is better than nothing I suppose." She used the back of her fork to pry the can open and then took on a thoughtful expression as Gareth asked her a question.

"Any plan on what you wanna do?" He asked around a mouthful of noodles. "You keep talking about this CDC lab but we haven't been going anywhere. Think the two of us could make it by our lonesomes?"

She shrugged. "In this world, I think having too many folks around could be dangerous. Not to mention hard to take care of. It's hard enough to find enough food and water for just the two of us." She stuck her fork into her can and took a bite, sucking on the utensil in thought. She didn't remove it when she spoke again. "Where are we going to find people anyways? All anyone wants anymore is to protect themselves. Taking someone they've never met all the way to CA on the snap of the fingers is not something people just do anymore."

"Where are we going to find people anyways? All anyone wants anymore is to protect themselves. Taking someone they've never met all the way to CA on the snap of the fingers is not something people just do anymore."

Gareth shrugged. "Like helping out strangers was high on a lot of people's lists before the shit hit the fan," he growled. "We find someone willing to help and they can pull their own weight? I say it's worth giving them a talk to at the least. Not a big group, but a couple extra sets of hands and eyes couldn't hurt, ya know?"

Gareth spun, suddenly, ravioli can falling to the table as he reached back and drew one of the two kuhkri he carried from the sheathes sewn into the lining of his vest. The handles stuck out from beneath the garments hem at his waist, putting them within easy reach. His other hand he held up toward felicity, signaling for silence.

A moment later he heard it again, echoing up the fire escape. The clang of metal striking metal. He ran across the apartment and put his back to the wall, window on his right and leaned over just enough to peek out the window.

He couldn't see anything but judging by the noise, someone was climbing the metal steps. The dead don't climb.

"What do you want?" He called. "We don't want any trouble but we will defend ourselves if you're looking to cause any!"

As soon as Lawrence heard a voice come from the apartment he was preparing to climb into, he froze on the spot. Almost all the way up the fire escape with his axe in his hand, he panted heavily as he decided what to do. Going down wasn't an option but, as it seemed, going up wasn't one either. He couldn't just stay there on the ladder, he had to do something. He had no doubt that whoever was at the top had a weapon on them and was prepared to use it on him. Lawrence had no choice but to resort to complete honesty.

"Uh,..." he started, "I don't mean to hurt you. My truck is just broken down and I'm looking for some stuff to fix it." Seeing as Lawrence actually couldn't see who he was talking to, this was a rather bizarre conversation.

Felicity shrugged at Gareth's comment and then turned her attention to the window when he did. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. As if on cue, it appeared as though someone had literally came to their doorstep. Whether or not they were actually friendly could be a different story.

She backed into her room leaned against the wall, out of sight. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened in to the conversation outside.

"Don't have anything that could be used to fix a truck," Gareth called down. "How long you been on your own?" If this guy had been by himself for a while it presented a few options.

Number one he could be smart and a survivor. Useful on a bat shit crazy endeavor such as the one they were contemplating. Would also be good to have someone else who could take over driving, or watch at night when they needed to sleep.

Number two, he's a murderous fuckwad that would as soon kill them in their sleep as he would help protect Felicity. Might he even sell her out to the first person they cane across that he could make some kind of profit off of?

He leaned over further, turning so he could poke his head out the window and look down at the man, just one floor below their window.

Still stuck in this strange position on the fire escape, Lawrence had to hold on tighter to the metal bar, as his hands began to hurt from holding on for so long. He wished he could just continue to the top of the fire escape and explain to the man, face to face, that he was not dangerous but he knew coming any closer to him could do more harm than good.

"A few weeks now. I was moving here from Canada when everything happened."

Felicity listened in as best she could, though she found it rather difficult to hear the strange man. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, her mind going back to it's original purpose - thinking.

Would it really be wise to bring in another party member? Gareth had had a point that it might be helpful to have an extra set of hands in the case of something like a Zunami, though she thought, at that point, it wouldn't matter. They'd be pretty fucked even if there were a hundred people with them.

In any case, hunting for the supplies necessary to take care of more than two people would be easier if there were more than two people. It was almost a perfect ratio, the only limiting factor being that it was the goddamn end of the world and Hostess just up and quit making them Twinkies this time around. You know, among other things.

"Come on up here," Gareth called down. "Long as you don't give us any reason to x we won't hurt you. If we can all be civil I think we might be able to find a few things to talk about.

As he spoke he backed up, away from the window and took a seat at the table where he'd piled all the food and supplies from his bag.

Reaching under the table he pulled a large handgun from where it was held to the under side with a strip of velcro and pulled it from the holster before setting it down on the table in front of him. The gun would be in full view when their visitor came in through the window.

The guy didn't have to know that there weren't any bullets. Or that Gareth had already cannibalized the slide spring and firing pin for other uses.