Nathan didn't turn around to check as he walked into the bathroom, but he heard the door open and two sets of footsteps leave the apartment; one set with a long and confident stride, the other the almost silent carpet squish of someone always very conscious of the noise they're making. He slid his shotgun over his shoulder and into the elastic straps on the back of the bag so the butt of the gun stuck up behind his right ear.  Then he adjusted the bag one more time, using all the straps to fasten it snugly to his body. It didn't budge an inch when he tested it with a few stationary hops.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Perfect</span>he thought as he picked up the two large gas cans and turned to trudge lumberingly out of the apartment. He turned left down the hall, away from the stairs upward, to a point that really served no purpose. Here, Nathan had punched a large hole in the floor, and another in the floor below that. Shadows moved at the bottom in the dark, and painful groans floated upward. Nate aimed for one and dropped the first gas can.<br/><br/>He missed. The red jug landed only one floor down and tipped onto its side. It began spilling its contents across the floor with a steady<span style="font-style: italic">glub glub</span>. That would be good enough. The fuel would drip down and set both floors up in flames. â€œAnd now for this one.â€ Nathan said, with something a little too close to pyromantic glee as he took the second jug and began splashing the walls and floor around the hole. When it was half empty, he dropped it down the hole with the other and ripped a piece of wallpaper off the wall.<br/><br/>This was always a good moment. The moment preceding the change: or the big â€œfoom,â€ as Nate would call it. In order to get the full effect of what he was doing, it was always nice to take a strong mental picture of what everything looked like before. Then he could really see how much of a change he'd made to the world.<br/><br/>He lit the strip of paper with his lighter and took four big leaps backwards down the hall as it floated down the hole and into the dark. Then...<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">FOOM</span>â€œFoom.â€ Nathan whispered along with the fire like a true pyro. He smiled at the blaze for only a second before turning around and sprinting toward the stairs, grabbing a towel along the way. Only<span style="font-style: italic">then</span>did it occur to him that his two new companions could have easily crossed the gap and cut the line; leaving him stranded to burn or be eaten. There would be no reason for it, except maybe spite, but people did strange things these days and for just a moment, as the young man threw himself up the stairs, he was stricken with terror. When he reached the top and found Rainie there waiting, he actually closed his eyes and released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.<span style="font-style: italic">I wonder what this apocalypse is doing to my heart...</span><br/><br/>Rainie actually looked relieved to see him. She'd obviously been waiting.<span style="font-style: italic">She's not the type of person to see me as a tool, either.</span>Actually touched by the sentiment; Nathan also found himself disgusted that someone actually caring that he wasn't eaten alive was so heartwarming anymore.<br/><br/>He just smiled at her and said, â€œThanks for waiting.â€ as he took a few long strides to the edge. â€œBut we should be moving. I went ahead and set a distraction for the zombies...â€ Nathan let that hang in the air for proper comical timing as he threw his towel over the wire and wrapped his hands around it so he could tighten his grip and slow down at the end. â€œ...and fire to the building.â€ And with that, he lifted his legs and slid off the rooftop.