The bike looked like it belonged to an old woman. Either that, or one of those trendy teenagers who tried to bring back 80's clothes into fashion. It had a big old basket on the front of it that I happily put my bag in to take the weight off my back, and the brakes squeaked whenever I tried to stop. There were no gears so it would be crappy on different terrains, but I was ecstatic with my find regardless. I sat on it, struggling to hold my shovel while pedalling but managing only just by balancing it on top of the basket and holding onto it. I rode one-handed, and smiled at the thought of me casually cycling towards a big, heavy wall built by hunky Atlanta military men, who would welcome me with chocolate, hugs and a hot cup of coffee.
It was a hot day and the sun was glaring down at me from above, causing me to sweat and crave a drink. Normally in this type of weather, I'd meet up with the girls and we'd have a glass of Pimms, but that luxury was out of the question. I needed some water or something to quench my thirst, and hitting a store would be my best chance of finding something decent. I stopped to pull off my shirt and then continued to ride, ignoring the fact I was now half-naked and just embracing the breeze that blew past me as I rode faster. I saw a sign that said "Gas - 10 miles" and couldn't tell whether to be happy or sad. Those signs only appear on long roads, and I was on a bicycle sweating one out. I started to regret my decision of not attempting to get a car, especially when I had to stop to pick up my shovel from the ground after it fell off for the fifth time. How I wished I was small enough to ride on one of Daryl's arrows - he could shoot me down the road and I'd be there in no time. Yeah, he would be handy to have around.