The smell of rotten flesh lingered in the air and mingled together with the undeniable scent of fear. Florence Matthews sat upon a rooftop in Salt Lake City, in the crisp air. She was level with the distant snow kissed mountains and she looked over the streets below, littered with the writhing undead. Their growls and snarls were not much different than the howling of coyotes at night or the call of a morning dove. These undead creatures had made themselves a part of nature and Florence was slowing growing used to it. 

The travel to Salt Lake City had been treacherous. After getting separated from her husband back in Boise, Idaho, Florence had refused to leave the city until she found him. She found that she didn't particularly care if he was alive or frothing at the mouth and hungering for human flesh. She just wanted to see him with her own two eyes, to lay her conscience to rest. However, the city soon became overrun and Florence had no choice but to leave, abandoning whatever hope she had of seeing her husband one last time. 

She initially took off by car. Many people had abandoned theirs in the middle of the road, somehow thinking that taking off by foot would be a better option. Grocery stores were raided, along with convenience stores and hardware stores. Any place that offered survival resources became like a battlefield. Florence grabbed what she could before fleeing the city and taking to the countryside. She had to leave behind most of the guns and ammunition her and her husband had, from their business, but managed to salvage three guns with cooperative ammo. Sleeping in her car and living off of stale granola bars was not particularly what she had in mind but it would have to do. At such a time as this, there was no room to be picky. 

In time, food and fuel posed an issue. Food was a relatively easier to find, but fuel was next to impossible. After getting lucky a few times, Florence's luck eventually ran out and she found herself on a lonely road somewhere in Utah, with no gas. She had no choice but to gather up her supplies and continue her trek on foot. She eventually found herself in Salt Lake City. As far as she was concerned, there were little survivors here, amongst the hordes of the undead that roamed the streets. She fought her way to the tallest building in the city, climbing the fire escape until she found herself on the rooftop. 

It had been two weeks since that day. Water was whatever the bucket on the roof collected when it rained and food was some canned goods she had managed to pull from the hands of a crazed woman back at the last grocery store she had visited in Idaho. She had come to terms with the fact that she would likely ride out the next good while alone. She didn't quite seem to mind. While she did not mind being in groups and sharing what she had, she found that now a days, people were only out for themselves and wanted what they hand, as well as what you had, and left you helpless. Florence was certain that she could make due on her own for as long as time demanded. 

But then she heard voices - not the snarling of the undead but voices of the living. A woman. Florence scuttled to the edge of the roof and peered off into the distance. Despite the hanging fog, she could make out the figure of at least three humans near the outskirts of town. What on earth were they doing. "Jesus," she muttered under her breath. She rarely saw survivors out in the open like that, and when she did, it was only a matter of minutes before their flesh was devoured by the undead.