-Olivia-

"No, I want to follow you." She looked down at her scuffed up tennis shoes and sighed. Her fingers gripped tightly around her handgun. She was young, so it was natural for people to treat her as a child; she was a child. Olivia just wished they did not think she was incapable of surviving. It was true that the undead had the upper hand. They were bigger for the most part, weighed more and vicious. Here she was, a 95 pound, farmers daughter. Olivia did know how to use guns; she had that at least. Before all this happened, her father had been teaching her everything there was to know about living off the land, how to hunt, how to drive a tractor and even how to drive their little beat up car. "Someone should be your lookout. You go first since you have the melee and I'll let you know if anything is coming from behind or from the sides." She bit down on her lower lip.

"I know I'm small, but I've made it so far. Don't think of me as just a kid." She looked around the backroom they were in and tried to find something that could be handy as a weapon and not as loud as a gun. There wasn't much; it was just a typical backroom for a small store. She hoped the store had stuff that would be useful for them.

Finally, her eyes landed on a broom. It wasn't much, but would do in a pinch. She picked it up, weighing it in her hands. It had some weight to it and despite being small, she was strong since she helped her father on the farm. Olivia tucked her gun into her jeans and then unscrewed the brush from the broom stick. She gave it a few practice jabs and nodded to the other girl. "I'm ready."

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head. "I'm so sorry. I forget to tell you my name." She blushed. "I'm Olivia."

They quietly started to venture into the main part of the store. She was surprised to see some lights flickering. They were not very bright though and she realized they were emergency back up lights for when the electricity went out. Olivia wondered how long they would last. The area seemed clear, but the smell inside told her otherwise. She wrinkled her nose up in disgust. The dead were inside. Several if the smell was any clue.

"Look," Olivia whispered as quietly as possible. There was what looked like a young child sitting on the floor in front of a display shelf. It's eyes were wide open, but had no spark to them. It's head lulled about and it's tongue, what was left of it anyway, was hanging out of it's mouth. The child looked like he or she had been a little younger than Olivia.

"It's a lurker. Have you seen those type before?" You could get as close as a foot away from one and it would not react. Only when you were close enough to touch it would it lazily try to grab you, but with lacking effort, as if it were bored with unlife and did not really care to eat. It was easy to tell a lurker from the rest. Their skin usually decayed a lot faster than the others, taking on a mostly rotten look and sometimes, they were one step away from being classified as a walking skeleton. The normal undead were slow and it was usually easy to dodge and walk between them if there were not many around. Then there was the fast ones. They were the most rare and the the most dangerous. 

Olivia had only ever seen one before. She shuddered at the memory.

"Wait," Olivia warned her companion. "I think I hear something behind us. Don't go any further inside." It would be the worst thing to get trapped with undead in front and behind them.

---

-Remy-

"Wow," Remy said, a soft whistle leaving his lips. "Thank you." He turned to Ash, wiping his hands on his jeans. "That was too close for comfort. That gunman almost made things fatal." He took the offered handgun and knife back from her, pocketing the gun, but keeping the throwing knife and his large knife out for melee purposes, just in case they got into another jam. "Well, I suppose this man answered our question." He looked down at him. "He must be the one who fired the shots." He tutted and shook his head. "Not even out of his bathrobe. Was he living in his own little world, not realizing this one had gone to Hell?" Remy bent down, inspecting him to see if he had anything else that would be useful.

"He really is only wearing a bathrobe. No clothes, nothing. Not to mention, his skin is damp." Puzzled, he looked toward the man's house, or the place he assumed belonged to the man. Had he really been having a bath? Sure, bathing was a treat and when the opportunity presented itself, Remy did not pass it up, but he usually only took one if there was lookout. Poor guy.

"Do you want to keep looking around or head back toward the others? Should we check in his house?" It did not seem this man would have much they needed, though maybe some food. "I guess a quick peek wouldn't hurt. Can you keep watch?" For some reason, he had an ounce of trust for Ash; maybe because she watched his back and hadn't let him 'accidentally' get bitten so she could steal his stuff. He had had people try and do that to him before. It never ended pretty.

Remy walked into the living room, checking carefully for any more undead. It was clear and he managed to make it to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and cabinets and took everything that would be useful and could fit into his camping backpack. He was thankful for his academy training. They trained him how to do combat while carrying around a lot of weight. He never thought he'd put that training to use.

He returned to the front door and nodded at Ash. "There wasn't much in there, but I grabbed some food. I'll ration it between the four of us when we meet up. Also, I realize I neglected to tell you my name. It's Jeremy, but I just go by Remy." He gripped the handle of his long knife and looked around them.

"Let's go."