[b]Ricky - Airline Highway, Old Jefferson - Anyone[/b]

Ricky wandered along the road, his travelling, at this point, was mostly aimless. The highway was littered with abandoned cars here, people had tried, and failed, to flee the population centres, it would seem, and now their attempts would grace the earth for a few years until nature destroyed what humanity had carved from it. He'd broken into song a little while back, quietly working his way through Led Zeppelin IV. He kept his voice low, to avoid attracting attention to himself, but he had to do something to maintain his sanity. He started into "When The Levee Breaks" with a chuckle, realizing that the levees had doubtless already broken. He couldn't know for sure, having not made it terribly far into New Orleans before he gave up. There had been a rather large consortium of the undead barring his path, and the man just wasn't up to trying to negotiate a city so thoroughly infested by zombies. Instead he had quietly declared, "Fuck it, I'm going back to Canada." before turning around and heading back. 

Unfortunately, he'd been unable to find anything that might be considered a motor vehicle, even the bicycles he'd been able to find were all destroyed, meaning that the trip back to his other home wouldn't be nearly as easy as the trip down. He had grumbled at first, but at least he was still alive and moving. Rather than worry about it, he continued singing to himself, trying to decide on his next musical selection as he found himself at the end of Led Zeppelin's fourth album. He sighed and decided to change things up, going for The Tragically Hip's "Up To Here". With Gordon Downie singing in his head, the chef picked up his pace, quietly drawing in his surroundings and wondering what he was going to do about this whole mess, but knew there wasn't much he could do, except see if he couldn't get back to the Maritimes. The rough weather was sure to be harsh on the undead, and he knew that at least a couple of his friends had to still be alive. 

He was suddenly shocked from his thoughts by the sickening thump of a soft, decaying skull smacking into a window. He turned to his left and watched as an armless zombie headbutted the window again, trying to get at him. The third time, it put a good deal more effort into the attempt, and crushed its own skull against the glass. He chuckled and shook his head. "What a dumb cunt." he growled to himself, sneering at the monster. Even with this distraction, he'd spent enough time in the swamp to know how to pay attention to the world around him, and he spun effortlessly as another zombie lurched from cover toward him, intent on eating him. Of course, Richard couldn't, in good conscience, allow anyone to consume him without first cooking him first, being a chef and all. Knowing that the undead weren't into cooking, he wasn't about to let this one eat him. Instead, he drew the longer of his two knives ,and shoved the sharp point right through the left eye socket of the ghoul, twisting the blade viciously to send it dropping to the ground, quite dead.

"I don't see how people are afraid of these fuckers..." he muttered to himself. "Yeah, they can hurt you, but not if you're smart about it..." he shook his head and chuckled, moving along at a faster pace now. "They're like gators..." he offered to the air, "They are mostly sedentary, just kind of floating along, waiting for something to eat. And when they find it, they tend to swarm... Just gotta keep them out of the boat." he didn't bother to sheath his knife, instead he held onto it and continued his journey with the blade swinging happily by his side. He had forgotten his music in the surprise attack, an didn't bother to pick it up again. After the first time the boat gets hit, one can assume there will be a second and third time shortly. Sure enough, he spotted more of the undead trapped in cars, all of them hungry for the wanderer who was getting closer as he continued his north-bound journey. 

Purposeful swings of the heavy blade he was toting severed the reaching limbs of his potential predators and Ricky proceeded down the road without any trouble. He continued weaving through the cars despite the risk, as he saw no reason to give any watchers something to look at. Sure, he wouldn't mind some company, but he wagered anyone scanning the highway would be more likely to be looking through a riflescope than a magical friendship telescope, and even if someone had gotten a hold of the latter, he wasn't prepared to trust someone naive enough to try something like that. [i]Slit their throat instead. Watch the life fade from their eyes...[/i] he found himself thinking suddenly. [i]Then I'll get soaked in blood.[/i] he thought back, scrabbling for the pill bottle in his left front pocket. [i]Shoot them, then. Right between the eyes.[/i] his mind responded as he cracked the bottle open trying to get one of the pills out. [i]That will attract more zombies.[/i] he insisted mentally as he crammed his medication into his mouth, swallowing hard and hoping it kicked in quickly. He hadn't eaten in a little while, so he was pretty sure he would be okay. [i]You need a new gun, then. Or a crossbow.[/i] he supposed that was a good idea, but he didn't know the first thing about crossbows, and he could barely operate a revolver, he doubted he would be able to use anything he could suppress with any kind of skill. The voice faded as the medication kicked in, and he pulled off the highway to go look through what had once been someone's home. If he could avoid using up his meagre supplies, his journey would be a lot easier, but he wasn't hopeful, considering how close he was getting to Baton Rouge proper...