[b]Ricky - Old Jefferson, give or take - Anyone [/b]

Ricky had never claimed to be an expert on this place. He'd spent more him around here than in Canada, sure, but he hadn't spent a whole lot of time near Baton Rouge, which was where the signs were telling him he was, give or take. And after almost a year of zombies ruining things, the world was starting to look a whole lot different. Of course, that didn't stop him from making his way toward the nearest Walmart. Or that was at least where he thought he was going. The world was too messed up to really be sure. But he didn't have much choice. These houses had been cleaned out, and his only hope was scavenging something useful out of the twenty-four-hour Supercenter he was sure had been around here somewhere. So he moved quietly and hoped. Hope usually wasn't the best resource to rely on, but he'd found himself leaning on it more and more lately. With things already sent to hell in the proverbial handbasket, there wasn't much else left to work with.

So he kept that in mind as he headed for what was likely salvation and damnation in equal measure. Sure, there might be things in the Walmart, but he was sure to have to fight for them. If it was him there, with enough people he trusted, he would most certainly start running a gang. There had to be enough furniture and non-perishable food there to last years. Even tempered with reason, though, hope was still a sketchy thing to use as a means for anything. The chef pushed aside his existential crisis once more as he decided to pick up the pace. There was a surprisingly undamaged bicycle just sitting in another yard. It was a child's bike, sure, but it was better than nothing. With no shame now that the world was pretty well destroyed, he thought nothing of adjusting the bright-pink contraption, lifting the seat and handlebars as high as they would go before hopping on. He could still manage a running pace on the ridiculously undersized bicycle. The glittery rainbow streamers trailing from the handlebars lent a comedy to the otherwise cripplingly depressing situation, and Ricky caught himself smile, but too late.

Even as he was making good time on his new ride, he spotted a dog. But this wasn't a normal dog, not any more. It was still alive, for better or for worse, but the shock of having to adapt to a hostile environment had left it mentally unwell. Something brightly-coloured and moving quickly had to be food at this point. It barked once, and another half-dozen animals appeared, more dogs. The golden retriever in the lead was the largest of them, looking ragged and soaked in blood. The rest appeared to be mutts of varying colouration. However they all shared the same, tattered, bloody look of the pack leader. Then, as the chef dared to hope he might be in the clear, the alpha barked once more, and all seven dogs took off after him, running faster than he could pedal the hot pink Supercycle.

There was only going to be one answer to this problem. Or rather, there were six of them tucked against the small of his back, however the .38 slugs weren't ideal for putting down compliant animals, let along probably-rabid dogs. "Fuck my life." he muttered, pedalling as hard as he could for the end of the street. Someone had left a dumpster there, on a little hill probably four feet from an eight-foot chainlink fence. The dumpster was overflowing, however, and there was a pile of garbage beside it, with a six-foot piece of plywood draped over it at an angle. It was like the perfect ramp. All he had to do was get over the fence and he'd be okay. The pack of dogs was getting closer, though, and he was sure this wasn't going to be an easy task.

And then, because Murphy was probably the worst person to ever grace the earth with his scumbaggery. Things went south faster than the CF-105 project, and Ricky was soon left in a panic. He hit the makeshift ramp and watched the plywood disintegrate. He was tossed over the handlebars of his too-small bicycle, and went head-over-heels through the back end of the garbage pile. None of the bags had been compromised, miraculously, so he had that going for him, but the tumble down the hill was the opposite of enjoyable. And now that he had really slowed down, the predators chasing him were catching up faster than he liked. And of course, he soon discovered the flaw in his original plan, on top of all that. At the bottom of the hill, where the fence was set up, he found a hole, big enough that the largest of dogs could squeeze through it. That meant he would fit too, but it also meant that, even as he scrambled for safety, he was going to have a lot more scrambling ahead of him.

The survivor managed to get through the chainlink fence without too much trouble, but now his pursuers were about to get through the fence too. Luckily for him, they had to take turns running through the hole, so he spun around long enough to draw his piece and pop off two rounds. Of course, the first one missed, and while the second one struck home, that left one dog down, and another six still chasing him. And now zombies would be moving toward him, hoping for an easy meal. He cursed up and down and took off sprinting again while the dogs struggled with moving the fastest of them out of the way. He wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings any more, he was too busy seeking anywhere he might escape the vicious appetites of the dogs behind him. His vision had tunnelled in so far, he could barely see what was in front of him. Too far in the black to care, he couldn't remember there was a revolver in his hand, though he did manage to pull the trigger while it was pointed at a zombie that seemed to appear out of nowhere. A doorway appeared, and he dashed through it, trying to close a door that no longer existed. He couldn't hear himself calling for help. Indeed, he was on the verge of passing out at this point. Something caught his foot, and Ricky fell, his hard landing setting off his revolver once more, leaving him with only two rounds, though he wasn't coherent enough to use them effectively anyway. That didn't stop him from rolling over and continuing his attempt at escape while flailing in front of him like a giant canine was about to jump on him at any moment...