The sound of a gunshot rang in the air, and not long after, another followed it, causing Irene to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Gunshots weren't so common anymore. In the beginning, it had been hard to sleep at night because there had been so many, but now, with the world nearly empty, it seemed, it became more and more of a surprise to hear them at all. It sounded like it came from...the highway, perhaps? 

The young woman, who'd been sitting on the roof of her quiet little haven of a house for the past hour, got up and climbed down. Although she considered it important to relax at a time like this, there [i]were[/i] things that needed to be done: she needed to pull some weeds, check for pests and disease on her precious veggies, see if dinner had gotten caught in one of her snares. And maybe it would be necessary to complement her cactus fence with some nice, deep pitfalls with something sharp or hot at the bottom. There had been no major incidents with infected before, but better safe than sorry, reasoned Irene. 

The veggie garden was coming along nicely, but soon it would probably need some compost. The herb garden...was a little more weedy, but that was easily fixed. Everything seemed in place. Perfect. Irene wiped her hands on her filthy apron and checked to see that her glass knife was on her before carefully, quietly sliding open her gate. This was always the chore she dreaded the most, because while it wasn't very likely they could break into her little establishment, they might pick her off easy out here. She ran back and picked up her garden shovel. It was good and heavy, something that could easily bash out the rotten brains of an infected.