THERE SHE WAS JUST...HITTING GRENADES FROM A ROOFTOP. SINGING DOO-WA DIDDY DIDDY DUM DIDDY-DOO.

FWHACK.

BOOM.

10 seconds later.

FWACK.

BOOM.

He was drawn to the sound. It was the only sign of other survivors he had heard since he had high-tailed it out of his hometown in Florida. Now heading through Louisiana, he had left the relative safety of his Cadillac Escalade to investigate the cause of the echoing explosions. It was coming from a nearby rooftop. He checked around a corner for any stray zombies and, finding none, moved towards the revolving doors that led to the building's lobby. The doorway was blocked by several corpses, many without heads. He attempted to push the doors, hoping that the force would dislodge the zombies, but to no avail. Taking another look at the problem, he decided to drag each body one-by-one to the street curb. It proved more effective than his initial attempts.

The lobby floor, once white marble, was now a sea of red. Whether it was zombie or human juice, he couldn't tell. Never to be dissuaded, he slogged his way through it, kicking a severed hand from his path. An abandoned bloodied chainsaw lay on the ground nearby. The elevators inside were golden and splattered with blood. Switching his sawed-off shotgun to the other hand, he pressed the button. Raising his gun, battle ready, he soon found that it had been unnecessary. The elevator was empty.

The cheerful music going up was oddly soothing.

Reaching the rooftop, he approached the doorway to the outside world with caution. He was a touch trigger-happy at times, but he was not an idiot. Not a complete idiot.

FWAK.

BOOM.

Amused laughter. A new sound added to the only two he could make out from the street below. Female laughter. The door cracked open an inch as it was nudged by the barrel of a gun. Slowly, quietly, he made his way towards the figure that stood near the edge of the rooftop. She leaned on a golf-club, hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she surveyed the damage of her game. Next to her lay a box of grenades. Grenade golf.

She picked up another from the box and placed it on the ground. Quickly withdrawing the pin, she took her position and swung, the grenade flying into the empty parking lot below.

"Four!" she called after it.

He chuckled from his position nearby.

She continued to survey the parking lot appearing oblivious to the noise behind her. But she had heard. She had heard him park his car a couple of blocks away. She had heard him trying to open the lobby doors and then dragging the bodies to the curb. She had heard him coming up the elevator. And she had heard his attempted sneak attack on her before he had even opened the door. If she had learnt anything from being the sole survivor in this town, it was vigilance. She would be dead had it not been for keen eyes and pricked ears. Or at least undead.

Based on his actions so far, she could tell he was human and based on the fact that he hadn't shot her yet, she felt she could safely say he was no real threat.

She turned her head slowly in his direction.

He was surprised by her lack of concern.

"You play?"

It took him a minute to realize she was referring to golf.

"I prefer less peaceful sports," he told her, gesturing to his shotgun.

"Me too usually, but I had these..." she picked up a grenade and positioned herself once more, "...lying around. I couldn't really think of a more entertaining way to pass time."

She swung and this time he was able to watch its journey to the lot below. He now saw what she was doing. In this game of golf you didn't aim for the hole. You aimed for the zombie. He laughed with his hands on his hips as one of them was thrown into the air by the force of the blast, leaving his leg behind from the knee down.

"Oh man...you do this all day?" he grinned, shaking his head slowly as he stared down at two zombies that had just shown up, attracted to the noise.

"Not all day. I try to fit some sharpshooting into my routine. Any weapons. Any I can get my hands on around here. It makes for good practice. Gotta learn how to use whatever's on hand. My motto: Stay armed and you'll remain unharmed."

He looked around the rooftop, spotting the sniper rifle and an assortment of other weapons, as well as what looked like a makeshift bed.

"You sleep up here?"

"In my view, it's the best place. Zombies have never made it up here. Mainly, I think, because they don't know I'm up here. I've got a 360 birds-eye view of the town, it's elevated, cool, and at the end of the day it's kind of nice to lie down in the fresh air and watch the stars."

"Where do you get your supplies?" He scanned the surrounding buildings for signs of a grocery outlet, but saw none.

"This used to be an office building. There's plenty of stuff lying around here, but I got most of it from a store on the way up here."

"You ain't a local?" he asked. He was trying to remember the name of the town he had seen on the sign on his way in, but for the life of him could not recall.

"I meant up to the roof."

They both suddenly realized that they neither knew one another, nor trusted one another and simultaneously drew weapons; he raising the shotgun and she pulling a machete from a sheath attached to her pants.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Who are you?" he replied

They eyed each other with suspicion for a long while before he decided to break the silence.

"I don't much like giving out my name to strangers."

"Neither. Where'd you come from?"

"Tallahassee."

"Well, Tallahassee, welcome to Winnfield, Louisiana."

He thought he'd recognized the accent. Louisiana. So he had been driving in the right direction.

"Where're you headed?" she asked later as they sat on the roof eating soup out of cups, which she'd warmed up with a fire she'd built inside.

"Not really sure. Thought I might get out and see the country while there isn't much traffic."

She smiled and nodded while swallowing the last spoonful of food. The sun was just starting to set and the sky was an orangey-pink coloration. It would have looked slightly beautiful if it wasn't for the zombies below strolling aimlessly about.

"You plan on staying here for good?" Tallahassee asked her. He dropped his empty cup onto the head of a zombie below, causing both of them to break into laughter as the mug shattered and the zombie twisted around in confusion.

"Hadn't planned that far ahead. It's worked for me so far though. Don't see any point in leaving now."

It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to after being alone for so long, but she had survived perfectly well by herself up on top of this building; she didn't particularly feel like leaving. One of her own personal rules in times like these was to remain solo. One person was easier to look after then...well, more than one. Tallahassee took off his hat, dusted the brim with the smack of a hand, and replaced it. It was strange meeting someone who had become so at ease with the situation, as she had too. His outfit: jeans, boots, t-shirt, leather jacket and cowboy hat; it seemed practical but also casual. Her own outfit included similar garments; boots with faded black jeans, a black t-shirt and the necklace her mother had given her for her for her 8th birthday. She played with the crystal tied onto the piece of leather, glancing at Tallahassee's own necklaces. It was an interesting collaboration of adornments.

"I'll probably be moving on tomorrow, then. Places to go. Zombies to kill..." he trailed off and then a thought struck him, "Hey, you haven't come across any Twinkies 'round here have you?"

She thought for a moment and shook her head.

"Damn," he said with disappointment, "I've been craving a Twinkie like a motherfucker."

"How about a hot chocolate?" she offered.

"You got some?"

"Yeah. I stocked up on the shit. It's like camping when you were a kid. Sipping cocoa, watching the stars..." she paused, reminiscing about her childhood. "Marshmallows?"

"Sure," he smiled. It was kind of nice now that he came to think of it.

So they sat up on the roof, drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows, tossing rocks down at the zombies below as a form of entertainment, guns and knives by their sides just in case. Just in case.


A/N: Hey all, just a quick note.

I wrote this series a long time ago and originally posted it on Quizilla. This is the first time I've opened it in years after deciding I wanted to share it again, and as far as I can tell, it's filled with cheesy puns, so I apologize in advance, haha. The titles of each chapter are a play on a classic rock song title, also cheesy puns.

Any feedback is much appreciated. xx