Despite the semi-bitter weather in California in December, Deon walked the streets of what was once his hometown shirtless. Not that it was his choice, just after escaping death himself Deon had to tear apart his shirt for the use of bandages to keep his head from bleeding out, as well as a few cuts and scrapes he had all over his chest and arms. Now for the most part completely healed, his body bore the scars of what reminded him continually of the destruction brought about this city. Just how far did this plague go? He prayed to god that his little sister Kallian hadn't been affected; she was all he had left.

Deon stopped his mindless wandering for a moment, bending down onto his knees, stooping over a man who had died just hours ago. The rats had already began making a meal of his exposed feet and face, but he had a shirt...a shirt Deon needed. Brushing away a rat that sat on the dead man's shoulder, Deon stripped the smelly clothing from the man and adorned himself with it, instantly feeling relief of the cold December air no longer on his bare skin. These rats were the only thing Deon had seen alive in days, and he had only just missed the man by a few hours. He had to wonder...was he the only one left?

"I suppose it's just you and me then." Deon said to the rat now nibbling at pieces of the man's chin. Deon moved his hand carefully and picked up the rat, putting it onto his own shoulder before standing back up straight and tall, the rat now cleaning it's whiskers after having a full meal. "I think we could both use a bath, what do you think?" He asked the rat with a somewhat bland expression. He began walking again, in hopes to find some fresh water.