Axel groaned as he rolled out of bed, blinking at the bright sunlight that was streaming into his room. It took him a moment to gather his surroundings and remember that he couldn't run down to Jamba Juice for a quick smoothie before heading over to his job at Empire Erotica. At this he laughed a bit, stretched, and began with his new routine.

This new routine consisted of pulling his Glock 17 out from under his pillow and doing a quick sweep of the bedroom, adjoining bathroom, and balcony. From there, he moved over to the door and listened for any sounds of movement in the next room. If and when he heard none, he moved the very large and very heavy cherry oak dresser from in front of the door, grabbed his gun, and moved into the other room.

After a quick walk-through of the apartment revealed that no undead had managed to sneak in while he was sleeping, it was over to the calendar. He picked up his pen off of a side table and squinted in the little box that was today's date. After confirming the day of the week and the date (it was one of the little things that kept him from going insane, honestly) he scribbled a messy '190' in the box and drew an 'x' through it.

For breakfast, he would have scrambled eggs and toast. He thanked God every morning that the St. Regis New York had some big ass generators that kept the refrigerator in his little kitchen up and running, allowing him to keep perishables. The only problem he could envision would be finding fuel, but there was quite a large amount of backup fuel that for whatever reason no one had tried to loot, so he wouldn't worry about it just yet.

After breakfast, if it was a Monday or Friday, he would shower. Again, praise the Lord, there was still hot, running water. But he knew that this, too, wouldn't last forever, and tried to conserve it as much as possible. Wash the dishes with cold water, do the laundry with cold water, etc.

If the day of the week didn't happen to be a Monday or Friday, then he would kick back on the balcony and stare at the infected for a while. It could be ten minutes, it could be three hours. When one had literally all the time in the world, spending a few hours sniping at the undead could be a wonderful way to pass that time.

Then, he would scribble a few things in his journal to remind himself five or six or sixty years from then what he had been doing. He sighed to himself for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he stood up, grabbed his journal and pen, and made his way back over to the balcony.

The entries had been getting progressively shorter since the initial outbreak, and Axel assumed that was simply the result of him getting used to his situation. Entry 1, 6 Days After Initial Outbreak, was four pages long. It was filled with fear and anxiety, and he was so frantic when writing it that his handwriting was practically illegible.

He flipped back to a black page (the book was almost full, and he'd have to find a new one sometime) and stared at it for a few moments. Well, no time like the present, right?

Entry 184

190 Days After Initial Outbreak

Their numbers seemed to have increased in this past week. He wrote, frowning down at the words. Something about this seemed so ridiculous. But at least it gave him an outlet for all of the thoughts screaming in his head, begging to be shared with someone else. This day last week, I estimated somewhere between five and six hundred. Now, I'd say there have to be at least eight hundred.

A quick glance down at Fifth Avenue confirmed this. I can't imagine why their numbers would be increasing. Could they hear me all the way up here? I make a point to be quiet in everything in I do. Maybe they hear the generators? Even though they're in the basement, they do make quite a bit of noise.

"Well, Axel." He muttered to himself, mostly to hear the sound of his own voice out loud. Just hearing himself think was starting to drive him insane. "This is certainly something to think about."

oOo

Four hours and two movies later, Axel hadn't given any thought to a plausible reason why the undead might be gathering in the vicinity of his hotel. He had, however, considered throwing himself from his balcony and letting the impact with the Earth crush his skull open, thus ending his life. Maybe if he got lucky he could take a few of those things with him.

That thought had prompted a very emotional viewing of The Titanic, in which the redhead sobbed his eyes out and shoveled spoonful after spoonful of the complementary ice cream he had found in the freezer into his mouth. When it became obvious that just watching a very sad chick flick couldn't end his pity party, he popped in The Champ (conveniently the saddest movie ever made) and made sure to turn up the volume as loud as he could and shut all of the windows in the hopes of drowning out that God-awful moaning.

By the time the sun was setting, he was back on the balcony. Watching a sunset against the cityscape of New York City had to be one of the most beautiful things in the world, he thought. Especially from his comfortable seat in one of the nicest hotels in America.

A quick look through his scope revealed that nothing had changed in the time he had wasted feeling bad for himself (something that occurred pathetically frequently.) The infected still bumped around each other, mouths hanging open, decaying bodies with rotten flesh stumbling around aimlessly.

He watched with disgust as one of them coughed up what had to be at least two pints of blood. It was horrid and ugly and made him ill, but for whatever reason he couldn't look away. He had the same fascination with them that made a person watch a car accident or a train wreck. You know that it will be horrible. That people will be broken and bleeding and that you'll hate yourself for watching, but you can't make yourself look away.

Some unintelligible sound of disgust escaped his throat, and he swept along the heads of the rest of the infected, looking for something interesting to occupy his time until he went to bed. Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they will not be disappointed.

But then something caught his eye. Something that wasn't supposed to be in this crowd of undead; that didn't fit. He frowned and angled his sight back to the area where that abnormality had been, leaned back from his rifle, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Honestly, was he losing his mind and starting to hallucinate? Was he so lonely and desperate for human contact that he was imagining other people that weren't really there?

No. These were definitely real people. They had to be real people. He watched with half shock and half delight as these two people - what looked like two blonde girls - navigated silently in between the infected, each holding onto the other's hand for dear life.

They were moving away from him, toward what looked like some apartment complex that had long since been abandoned. He cursed himself for not realizing that there were other people so close to him, but really, it made sense. He was in New York City, after all. A city populated by more than 10 million people. They couldn't have all turned into mindless cannibals.

A grin slowly spread across his face. As he watched them retreat into their little complex, one of them glanced back at his hotel. She was definitely looking in his direction - no doubt she could see the lights he had on in the suite. Now that the sun was setting, they would be easily noticeable.

He doubted that she could actually see him, and if she could, he had to be incredibly small to her. She was small to him, even through the lens of his scope, which led him to believe that she had to be at least three hundred feet away. Even so, after a few moments of this stare down, she pursed her lips together and raised a single hand, waving.

A/N: Yay another chapter...

I'm going to try to update this every day, but I'm not going to promise that's going to happen. xP I'll try, though, I swear!

So, if this chapter seems really boring, it's supposed to be. I don't particularly like it, but I think it's necessary, so I'm going to keep it. I guess I just kind of want to give an example of just how wonderful being stuck in the St. Regis New York is during the zombie apocalypse. (Hint: It's really boring.)

I hope you all enjoy it, please review!

~Sara