<strong>June 1 (Day 10), 9:03 p.m. - Mall, Downtown New Angeles</strong><br/><br/>Willie made his way down the stairs and slowly opened the access door into a utility hallway. He silently stalked his way down it, the distance short enough that it only took a few minutes, and came to a door that led into the mall-proper. It was dark. Creepy. Perfect environment for ninja-zombies to thrive in.<br/><br/>Holy shit! He hadn't even THOUGHT about ninja-zombies...<br/><br/>~Get a grip, Willie,~ he told himself as he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment to catch his breath and wiping sweat from his brow. Then, silently, he slipped out the door and into the mall open area.<br/><br/>His ears, nose, eyes were all on high-alert, looking for signs of movement, listening, sniffing the air. So far, silence. No shuffling of undead. No sounds of survivors, either. His spirit nearly sunk. What did he expect? To show up and find hundreds of people living comfortably in the spacious surroundings of a shopping mall, protected from the outside world?<br/><br/>He pulled forth the tiny pen-light that he had - up ahead, a shadow loomed out of the darkness, and as he closed, he realized it was one of those mall directories. He began to look over it, wondering where people would gather. Most likely, food-places, right? "McDonalds, Cinna-bon, Chic-Fil-A... hell YES I'd kill for a Chic-Fil-A sandwich right about now," he mumbled as he read. So there was a food-court, and likely, that would be where-...<br/><br/>"A hunting store!" he gasped, surprised by his luck at seeing the place listed on the directory. A hunting store would mean guns, and ammunition - glorious ammunition! So, the hunting store first, load up, and THEN head to the food court for a Chic-Fil-A sandwich. Hell YES, his luck was finally looking UP for once since all this shit started!<br/><br/>He looked at the map to make sure the direction he needed to go, which turns he would need to take, and then set out as quietly as he could in that direction. He took his time, even though he was itching to get more ammo - and then more food. His "Pop-Tart Diet" wasn't doing much for him now, and he was down to his last two boxes plus a few bottles of water. The thought of a juicy, hot chicken-sandwich was almost too much for him to bear.<br/><br/>He closed in on the location of the hunting shop a few minutes later - and thought he -heard- something. He silently cursed Bart Stilwell, the owner of the Army Surplus store that he frequented. If Bart had extended Willie's credit a bit last month, Willie would have those awesome night-vision goggles he had wanted so badly. Swiftly, he moved to the nearest wall, slowly passing a wooden bench flanked by small metal garbage bins. He was near the entrance to the hunting shop, he knew, according to the map anyway, and he was just about to-....<br/><br/>There it was again - a noise, louder, which almost sounded like it was right next to him in the silence of the place. He reflexively jerked to put his back to the wall - and solidly kicked the metal garbage bin over with his foot.<br/><br/>"FUCK!" he hissed, gripping his weapon tightly, his heart pounding in his chest.