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Rudo Ihejirika looked over the edge of the multi-story car park to see if there was any activity from the crashed cars. He'd seen the whole thing six hours earlier, but a mixture of fear from being caught by the dead, and a certainty that the cars' occupants had died, had prevented him from leaving the safety he had fought so hard to establish.

Safety, yeah, that was one word for it.

Rudo hadn't been safe from the moment he stepped foot in America. An illegal immigrant, who had made the expensive and perilous journery from Nigeria to South America, and then up through the Mexican border, he was no stranger to the dangers of a hostile world. Furthermore, he was no stranger to a hopeless situation. 

Still, he'd thrived hadn't he? With his fake credentials, he'd landed a job as a shelf-stacker at Walmart. No one bothered him, and no one suspected his inventive back story was anything worth questioning. Besides, surely his generous and kind personality would beat away threats to report him to immigration officials. Right? Right!

But it was his kind and generous nature that wouldn't let him stop checking the scene of the crash. However, as he peered over the top of the carpark's highest floor, his jaw fell. He saw a flash light, flailing around in the darkness. Survivors! 

His first instinct was to call out. They might be dangerous, sure, but Rudo hadn't survived the last four weeks without putting bad men into the ground. He could handle them, he always had. In Nigeria, it was a case of facing down the multitudes of corrupt officials and soldiers; in America? Hah, these Americans knew nothing of his hardships, and their assumptions of combat paled in comparison to his. 

Still, if they were friendly, then they may have food - and Christ, was he hungry. He couldn't stay up there forever, this he knew. It was a question of starving to death, or getting the Hell out of there. Luckily, it looked as though God had provided him a life line. 

He strolled along the barrier, to where a National Guard machinegun nest had been positioned a week previous. The bastards had taken the gun and ammo with them, but they'd left the mounted light and portable battery behind. With steady hands, he flicked the on-switch on and off several times, casting a circle of strong light over the toppled car. In doing so, he saw that there were a handfull of survivors - and what he assumed to be a little girl. 

Hopefully they'd get the idea, and mosey on over to his concrete home. 

After a few more flicks, he left the light off, and proceeded down to the bottom of the car park. He'd blocked the entrance, but the gap between the floors was plenty of room for people to crawl through. Not shamblers though, they seemed too stupid to understand the logistics of pulling themselves up onto a surface. Every now and then one of them would fall through the gap, but Rudo took care of those. Besides, he'd kept his presence there very low key.

He hid behind a pillar, next to a black Sudan. The Colt .45 stirred restlessly in his waistband. With the power out, he doubted any of them would see him when they entered.