"Right," Florence knew how that felt. When she was waiting it out in Armadillo, when her husband was still with her, they would live on the rooftops with the other survivors. But they started to die off. Every so many days, someone would have to retrieve food and water for the group, and they would each take their turn with who had to stay on night watch and who got to sleep. The undead did not sleep - there was no rest for the wicked. The day her husband went to retrieve, he never returned and she had not seen him since. 
However, she had learned to sleep with the growling and snarling of the undead. Like the howling of coyotes at night, it was just something that would have to be accepted. 
"Well, if you don't mind," Florence started as she took one of the thick blankets and blankets and placed it on the floor, up against the wall. She slowly sat down on it, resting her back against the wall and placing her face in her hand. "I'm gonna get some shut eye."