Notes from the Author: Sorry it has been so long since I have posted updates. The most recent was chapter 11, but I'm going to try and get back into things. I really do want to finish this story and maybe start working on another one. For those who have bothered to read this little tirade of mine I really do appreciate your sticking with me.

My feet were beginning to ache. My body wasn't designed for long distance running… ok I'm lying I wasn't running. I'm too fat for that. But I was managing a decent power walk. The rest last night did a little to help the groaning in my right knee, but not as much as I would have hoped. We had been walking for about 3 hours I suppose. None of us had watches, we used out cell phones, which were all dead now anyway, so I couldn't be sure. The old judge-it-by-the-sun method always did manage to escape me. My best guess said two or three in the afternoon.

We stopped at a small convenience store which was mercifully empty. Jeff kept watch outside while Brad and I grabbed what we could that would last us a while. Granola bars, some warm bottles of water, and finally, some cat food. Mara and Wedge scrabbled form my backpack as I tore open two small can of moist cat food and let them dig in. The purring was loud against the otherwise dead silence. Stuffing several more cans and a snickers bar into my backpack's pockets I noticed Brad over by the magazines and comics.

"Not exactly survival material there Brad," I smiled at him impishly.

"Actually it is." He held up the atlas maps that he had picked up, "Once we're clear of town and on the road we may need these."

"Good point. Don't forget to grab some stuff for Jeff ."

Brad grabbed a plastic bag from behind the counter and filled it with food and water.

Returning outside we found Jeff lounging against one of the gas pumps.

"I was thinking," Jeff said, "There's all this gas here. The place still has power. Why not empty out some of the glass-bottles in there and make up some cocktails?"

I blinked.

Shit I can't believe I hadn't thought of that… I usually pride myself on the clever ideas but that one goes to Jeff. Brad and I ran back into the store, activated the gas pump, and began emptying some of the glass bottles. Luckily Orange Crush comes in glass… or else we would have been hard pressed to find any glass bottles. A few minutes later we were all sporting narrow, rag-stuffed bottles sticking out of our pockets, and me with a backpack full of cats and food. A few lighters compliments of Fina completed the ensemble. SO basically we looked like a bunch of complete dorks traipsing down the deserted streets… but we were well-armed dorks.

We reached a major intersection, 19th and Q. Car dealerships and office buildings lined the street here, only the WhattaBurger seemed out of place here. The sun was beginning to get on towards evening but I wasn't worried just yet… I was beginning to limp badly though. I was slowing us down.

"We should head east from here," said Jeff, "make for the countryside."

"By the time we hit the city limits it will be dark again, " Brad replied, "And I don't want to be caught out in the open in the dark with only a couple of flashlights."

He was right… we were going to have to find another place to hole up before dark… and it was probably my fault for being so slow. Jeff's skinny ass could've made it all the way out of town on his own by now probably.

"What do you think, Scott?" Brad's question made me blink, I hadn't been paying attention. I was so strung out…

"About what?"

"The pawn shop there," Brad pointed. The place was familiar to me. Brick building. Barred windows and doors. If we could get in and lock it up it might just hold us through the night.

"Yeah… bet there's some guns in there too…" I said.

So we made for the pawn shop. The front door was unlocked, but the smeared blood on the bottom of the glass gave us pause.

"Well they have to be somewhere… " Brad muttered.

"Okay… I've seen enough SWAT movies to have this whole sweep and clear thing figured out… sorta." Jeff grinned.

"Yeah, room by room, if it shambles, and doesn't speak, blow it's head off." I said, raising my shotgun to my shoulder.

Jeff turned to Braddly "Brad, keep em off our backs with Scott's club till we can get you a proper weapon." Brad nodded in reply. I un-slung my backpack and handed it to Braddly.

"Keep them safe."

Jeff pulled the door open and I swiveled around, leading the way with the barrel of my gun. The flashlight taped to the end illuminated a trashed room. Shelves were turned over, and I spotted a few bullet holes in the wall. They must've gotten in before anyone could lock this place down. I took a few tentative steps forward and Jeff entered behind me. His pistol swept left and right while I stepped over a broken chair. I was too busy watching the space in front of me to see the hand reach out from underneath a toppled shelf and grab my ankle….