Doc hated his life. Oh so much.<br/><br/>He knew this to be true as he sat in the<a class="link link--external" href="http://www.motorstown.com/images/ford-f-150-lighting-01.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">truck</a>he had "liberated" from a dealership in Texas. It was strongly built, had a powerful engine, four by four drive, was air conditioned, had thick metal plates welded on half-assedly by him, and was completely<i>out of gas</i>. Well, not completely. He was running on fumes when he shut the truck off. Now he was parked in an alley in Atlanta, Georgia, of all places. Doc rested his forehead on the steering wheel and let out a sigh.<br/><br/>He was sure the government was lying when they said it was safe in Atlanta. And even if he wasn't, he knew he shouldn't have come here anyway. The announcement of safety in Atlanta attracted thousands of people there like moths to a flame. And<i>that</i>was like ringing the dinner bell for these things. Not to mention the possibilities of the infected being<i>in</i>the city to begin with, along with the infected tagging along in the mobs that headed towards the city.<br/><br/>The government fucked up on a lot of things, but the Atlanta Announcement, as he liked to call it, was the biggest. The CDC shouldn't have been experimenting with the infection in a highly populated capital city<i>anyway</i>. While there were containment procedures to prevent an outbreak of a disease in the CDC, the hadn't ever dealt with a disease that brought the dead back to life. They should've taken more precautions, like a more secret research facility or higher containment procedures.<br/><br/>But there was no wallowing about the past now. He couldn't fix this, he didn't even know how to<i>fathom</i>beginning to fix this other than waiting it out. The infected were, technically, dead, and deteriorating. Humanity's best bet was to stay low and avoid the infected for as long as they could until they decomposed into mush that would be cleaned up.<br/><br/>He looked up from the steering wheel and spotted something. A mostly closed grated-door to a maintenance garage door in the back of a hotel. Mostly being the key word. That would mean it would be unlocked. He grinned as he turned the ignition and pulled the truck up to the garage. Hopping out, he looked under the door, his pistol out and his flashlight on, shining it into the garage. No feet meant no infected. He flicked the safety off on his pistol, though, just in case. He pulled the garage door up, still seeing no infected persons. Good. Rushing back to his truck, he pulled it in, thanking whoever was watching that the garage was big enough. He turned the truck off and hopped out, quickly closing the garage door.<br/><br/>He looked around, seeing a door that opened to the inside. Walking up to it, he attempted to open it. It budged a bit, but it was being blocked. Either someone was in there already, or someone had blocked it in the beginning and had since left. He knocked on the door, loudly enough to attract the attention of anyone inside.<br/><br/>"Hello? Is anyone in there?" Doc asked. He had to speak loudly for his voice to reach through the door. "If there is, I just want a place to lay low for a while, at least until I can find some gas for my truck and some extra supplies. I mean no harm, I promise!" Maybe something else would work. "I got some spare food I can share. They're MREs, but they're probably better than whatever you're eating." He waited a few more seconds before sighing.<br/><br/>"Look, if I don't get a response from anything living in the next sixty seconds, I'm busting the door down and killing anything that moves, alive or dead. Your move."