Steve was woken abruptly by the quietest morning in a week. As he blinked a visible discontent for the dawn's arrival he listened closely to the noise from outside. There was still a perpetual shuffling, but the snarling had been reduced to a minimum. In one fluid motion Steve ruffled his hair then rubbed his eyes. Cautious but effortless he rose to his feet without making a sound. For a brief moment he reacquainted himself with the panic room before he set about his morning routine.

The white light of the florescent lamps bounced of every pale grey surface in the room, and there were plenty of them, the floor, three of the four walls and the ceiling. The fourth wall was also pale grey but the light was prevented from bouncing off of it by the shelving units that lined it and the rows upon rows of tins that they housed. This was the most decorated wall, closely followed by the wall with a sink, a mirror and single shelf on it. There were no tins on this shelf though, only a portable stove , a tin opener, and an immaculately clean tin cup and bowl with cutlery.

Steve silently rolled up his bedroll and tied it to his backpack. For a moment the snarling outside seemed to intensify but after listening carefully Steve shrugged it off. He was satisfied that he was remaining quiet enough to remain undetected and by now the only thing remarkable about inaudible his movements had become was how comfortable it had become to him. He glided across the room and softly removed the plastic lid from a tin of breakfast bars. Calmly he retrieved a bar and replaced the lid without the slightest hesitation. Whilst he ate, he set about the redundant task of mentally taking stock of what was left on the shelves. He couldn't deplete the supplies in here given years but counting tins was as good a way as any to pass the time.

Once he had finished his breakfast he discarded the wrapper into the waste bin which he then straightened so that it was flush against the wall. He had lost count of the amount of times he had done this in the past week. Finally Steve felt adjusted enough to the morning to take a glance through the peek hole. Once again with hushed steps he moved quickly across the room. Paying close attention to even the slightest inconceivable movement he was making he pressed his face against the door so that his right eye was parallel to the tiny viewing glass.

He could clearly see the entirety of the office on the other side. There were only three zombies in there today. Each of them motionless, subdued into a trance by a lack of stimulation. Steve's next exhalation after realising this fact almost sounded like a sight of relief. He turned on the spot then nearly laid on the door closing his eyes for a few moments. He was mentally preparing himself for the day ahead. When his eyes opened again he was looking down. For the first time in a week he was concerned about his appearance. The dried blood stain on the upper half of his left sleeve stuck out like a saw thumb. A dark red patch on his light beige shirt.

Quickly he tore off his shirt and bound across the room to retrieve the first aid kit from his back pack, still managing to keep noise levels to a minimum. After removing the old dressing he examined his wound. For the most part the bleeding had stopped, he proceeded to wrap it tight enough that there was little chance of any seepage for the next day or so. As he washed his hands he observed his physique in the mirror. Despite having limited opportunity for exercise in a while his youthful figure had remained quite toned. He threw his old bloodstained shirt in the bin before returning the first aid kit to his backpack and grabbing a fresh shirt. It was as clean pressed as a shirt that's been kept in a pack could be but it was probably the smartest Steve had looked in a few days. Finally he slid his metal baseball bat out of the bag. The days of anticipation for this moment left an expression on his face that roughly resembled lust as he eyed his faithful weapon.

The backpack was to remain where it was for the time being as Steve returned to the door. He took a firm grasp of the handle then paused for an endless moment. This would be the first unpractised motion in a while. He tried to rehearse the quietest way to open the door in his mind but truthfully he didn't have the first idea what kinds of sounds might emanate from the mechanism. If he couldn't pull this off he might have to wait another day or so before he could try again. Remarkably he kept his heart from pounding in his chest as he slowly began his attempt. He kept his face pressed against the peep hole the entire time, the slightest reaction from the corpses outside and he'd let go of the knob without hesitation regardless of how loud the spring back would be. They never stirred though, and before Steve knew it the latch was completely undone. He remained stationary however, still staring through the spy hole, calculating his best plan of attack. All three of his soon to be victims were facing away from him. He hoped, rather optimistically that they would stay that way. Once he had convinced himself that he had a fool proof plan he burst through the door, quickly but quietly.
He reached the first zombie without detection but the thud of metal crunching bone and the anguished cry it let out as his bat met its skull aroused the suspicion of the other two corpses. Steve manage to swing his bat into the face of his second victim dispatching it quickly before it had completed turning to assess the situation, but the third had now gotten a full glimpse of him. It lunged towards Steve deflecting his blow and interrupting his perfect swing to hit ratio. Steve wasn't ready to let this rattle his cool though, and effortlessly side stepped the attack. As the zombie stumbled passed Steve on his right hand side he lined up quickly and brought the bat straight down on the back of it's cranium.
'Phew!' Steve sighed regaining his breath. He listened intently for a little while to figure out if anything outside the room had heard the commotion and decided to investigate. Everything seemed quiet. Steve surveyed the room, it was refreshing looking at new surroundings for the first time in a week. Compared to the panic room he had just left this room was a palace, it was pretty ornate compared to any room but after a week in that pale gray cell Steve could spend an eternity in here.

Before the dead forgot their place in the world this had been a mayor's office, and in some ways it still was. It wasn't in bad shape either. The symbols of its past, nation flags and city emblems had long since been removed but the rest of the décor remained; mahogany desk, leather seat, red wallpaper with intricate regal gold designs. The satin rope drawn curtains even remained in the windows. If it weren't for the three freshly silenced corpses on the ground one could be forgiven for assuming the office was ready to take appointments. Steve gazed around the room in awe. Obviously he had been in here before but exposing the brain to the same stimulus for a prolonged period of time has a way of reinvigorating the senses when they finally get something new to analyse. It wasn't long before his eyes landed on an irresistible treasure. A tin stove kettle that shone like silver in his eyes. 'Oh thank Christ!' he exclaimed with glee. Before Steve had been presented with the need to seek refuge in the panic room the kettle had been removed from their and he hadn't the time nor the forethought to replace it before shutting himself in. with a new sense of urgency Steve rushed to collect his shiny trinket and quickly returned to the panic room to get his first hit of caffeine in far too long.

Steve didn't bother with milk or sugar, it was a miracle he waited long enough for the kettle to boil. The satisfaction he gained from desperately swallowing his entire mug of coffee in one determined effort seemed to quell any chance of scalding his mouth, tongue or throat. Greedily slurping at the last few drops he seemed to have lost all concern of being quite and he honestly couldn't care less if the whole neighbourhood of cadavers heard his contented 'ahh!' when he was done. Luckily they didn't seem to notice. After carefully washing out his cup and placing it back on the shelf Steve glanced at his back pack across the room. He walked over to it gingerly, then opened it with the greatest caution. He studied the contents thoroughly before reaching in to grab a small black case, slightly larger then his palm. For a second he just knelt there, holding it in both palms, breathing mindfully. He opened the clasp, with a well practised motion that had long been cemented into his muscle memory. Now resting the case in his left hand, he caressed the syringe inside with his right before taking out the small bottle strapped next to it. His gaze followed the bottle as he moved it away from the case, weighing it in his left palm. There was one more thing left to do before he was ready to leave.

Now truly focused he slung his pack onto his back and meaningfully marched out of the panic room, then out of the mayor's office, his bat loosely gripped by his side, he wasn't going to let anything get in his way today. There were only a few other zombies in the building and none of them put up strong enough resistance to cause Steve any concern. When he finally strolled out of the building's double doors he breathed in the fresh air deeply. The air was quiet and still, and if Steve wasn't high on his new found freedom he would have noticed the putrid smell in the air, but to him the air was sweet, and he could almost hear birds singing. They weren't of course, but it had been a while since Steve felt so accomplished and he was determined to savour this moment for as long as he could. He knew that wasn't too long though and before long he balanced himself again and decided to check his surroundings.

The streets were quiet, but they weren't empty. Many corpses still shuffled around. None of them had noticed Steve though and Steve didn't pay them too much attention himself. If he had, he might have recognised a few of the previous members of his community. Mostly though he was just counting and calculating, searching for the path of least resistance. He figured, quite correctly, with a calm gait and a well planned route he could slip by most of them unnoticed.
As he began his journey out of the centre of the settlement he was somewhat surprised by how normal everything felt. He almost expected to bump into a neighbour at any moment. It had been some time since the world had been plunged into it's current state of chaos, so most were quite accustomed to seeing zombies strolling around, but the residents here had never expected to see any inside the gates. Perhaps that was why there was so little sign of struggle. Steve wondered for a moment how many would have simply ran rather than try to hold off the tide of the undead. As he rounded the last corner obstructing his view of the gates he saw a scene that told a very different story. The town may not have been painted red but the ground here certainly had. Bodies and parts of bodies lay everywhere. Cadavers with clean head shot wounds, heavily armed guards and lighter armed civilians torn up so bad that either there was too little left of them to turn or what was left was unable to do much more than slither along the ground. Steve wasted no time wondering how this could have happened, he knew how it happened. It was a treachery of the worst kind, but he had no time to dwell on it, he looked at the gates left wide open and beyond them to wherever he might end up next.

Paul stared intently, the deep wrinkles snaked across his face visible even into the edges of his short white hair conveyed great concern. Slowly he brought the spanner clasped in his thick greasy hands to his face and began tapping out his thought process on his lips. When he was satisfied that he had found a solution he began tinkering with the generator in front of him. It was only ten in the morning but Paul was already on his third job of the day, his white vest and beige khakis were streaked with dirt and oil whilst the rag hanging out the back of his waistband was almost pristine. He worked tirelessly for the next hour only stopping occasionally to nod or wave at a passer by who greeted him. When he returned to his work he would grumble about the interruption but each time he heard a voice call out to him there was a smile that spread across his face that he couldn't hide.

Finally he stepped back from the machine, grabbing the rag from his waist band and rubbing it tightly between his palms. He quickly glanced over the entire unit making sure he had not forgotten anything before he had the confidence to test if he had brought it to working condition. Content that his work was completed he strolled over to the user panel and turned the key. Silently he observed whatever the panel lights had to tell him then with a silent prayer he pushed the start button. The generator coughed and spluttered, protesting Paul's attempts loudly but he held the button down defiantly. A few pops and another splutter later saw black soot and a few short puffs of blacker smoke burst from the exhaust then without another grumble the generator started. It wasn't the smoothest running engine Paul had ever heard and he was certainly aware it needed a little more tweaking but for now Paul was satisfied that it starts. He looked at the machine with a beaming smile.

'Never thought I'd hear this old thing running again!' A voice shouted over the noise. Paul turned around to see who it was. 'Rob!' he exclaimed extending his hand to shake. Rob took his hand and shook it gladly. 'How's it going Paul? You settling in okay?' Rob asked with a friendly reassurance in his voice. 'you can say that again. I haven't felt this at home since … well you know … before.' Paul replied with an unbridled glee. Rob nodded knowingly. Paul motioned for him to follow as he returned to inspect the engine in it's running state. Rob continued talking, knowing that Paul was still listening even if he wasn't looking at him. 'You know Paul, we're a friendly bunch around here. You couldn't ask for kinder neighbours. Even before. That being said. I've never seen anyone fit in as quickly as you have.' Paul glanced up at Rob briefly with a humbled look on his face. 'well thanks buddy.' he smiled before returning to his work. 'And to top it all off.' Rob continued. 'You're the finest mechanic this community has had in I can't remember how long.' he explained without the slightest hint of hyperbole. 'I do my best.' Paul replied, too embarrassed by the compliment to turn away from what he was doing. 'I'm not kidding, you're a real asset pal and I'm glad that my gates were the first that you stumbled upon after you lost your last home.' Paul's head dropped at that last comment. Rob noticed immediately. 'Gee I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.' he apologised. 'nah it's cool, I was never really appreciated there anyway. So I can't get too torn up about it.' Paul explained. 'That's the spirit.' Rob patted him on the back reassuringly as Paul returned to his work.

'So is this baby ready to start outputting power yet?' Rob seamlessly changed the subject. 'It is...' Paul replied with a muted confidence. 'But it'll probably take me the rest of the day to make sure it's operating at peak efficiency.' Rob chuckled. 'You know Paul? If everyone had the same work ethic as you, this whole zombie apocalypse thing would be over by now.' Paul let out a half laugh as he grappled with a stubborn bolt. 'Anyway I'll let you get on, make sure you grab yourself some lunch in a bit, don't work yourself too hard.' Paul didn't reply but waved rather limply in Rob's direction whilst keeping whilst keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the machinery in front of him. Rob had only known Paul a short while but he knew him well enough that it was easy for him to tell he wasn't being dismissive. Once he got involved in his work it was difficult to tear Paul away for more than a few moments.

As he moved away from the warehouse where Paul continued his work Rob was approached by a tall man in a clean pressed military uniform with the name A. Parker affixed to the left breast. From the way he walked you'd assume he was the type to always have his hands on his weapon, ready for combat at a moments notice, but his assault rifle hung loosely by his side. 'Alan.' Rob greeted him as they reached talking distance. An undetectable look of disgust flashed over Parker's face. He hadn't been in anything approaching a military for a long time now but he was still uncomfortably being called by his first name. 'Sir.' He nodded. 'lookouts have spotted a traveller heading straight towards us from the east.' he explained. 'heh, seems we're becoming quite the popular destination.' Rob joked before pointing to his left questioningly. Parker respectfully pointed in the opposite direction. 'lead on.' Rob motioned to Parker who nodded in agreement before moving off towards the east gate.

When they arrived Rob took the lead again. Instantly climbing the ladder of the spotting tower, Parker followed. The lookout rose to his feet to mark his respect when he saw Rob enter. Rob motioned him to sit down again. 'What do we have today?' he asked in his trademark casual tone. 'Lone male, early twenties maybe.' the lookout replied. 'armed?' Parker asked. 'Just a baseball bat from the looks of it.' answered the lookout. Rob observed the small figure in the distance. 'doesn't seem to be moving very fast.' Rob remarked. 'we estimate he'll be here in half a day.' the lookout explained. Rob nodded then turned to Parker. 'think we'll have a problem here?' he asked. Parker shook his head. 'Probably tired, looking for a place to set down for the night. I'll keep an eye on it sir.' he responded. Paul smiled at Parker's confidence. 'Good, then I'll leave it in your capable hands Alan.' He explained patting Parker on the arm. 'For now I'm off to get some lunch.' they nodded at each other and Rob departed. Parker turned and retrieved the binoculars from off the table. Bringing them to his face he quietly observed the distant figure for a while