Life had been difficult in some ways, even though he was quite safe here. Sure, all the fresh foods were long gone by now, but their were still plenty of dried and canned things, supplemented by trips out to scavenge for things, which occasionally turned messy.<br/><br/>The gas stoves still worked plenty fine, although he knew the stored gases would eventually need replacing, and he wasn't sure how to do it. Still, their was enough for at least a few more weeks usage.<br/><br/>Right now, he was reading by candle light (they had hundreds of them on hand, as each table in the diner used to be have a lit candle in the center in the evenings), a book called "Dead of Night", a work of fiction.<br/><br/>He spent a lot of time reading; their were three tables just piled up high with books, sorted in an almost OCD-like manner into genre and by author's last name.  It's what's kept him sane thus far, all this reading, keeping himself occupied; being in as secure of a place as they are, their was a lot of free time to kill.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, a large pot on the stove was quietly simmering. It was a vegetable and barley soup, with thin bits of cut up beef jerky in it (because fresh meat simply could not be found). It was pretty much ready to eat, he was just waiting for a bit, giving time for the flavors of the soup to develop more.<br/><br/>All of a sudden, he heard Olivia mentioning his name, and he instantly turned his attention away from the book, and towards her. "Huh? Really? You think it's the infected?" He'd ask her warily, standing up from his seat.<br/><br/>He was quick to don his leather biker armor, though he didn't take the time to zip it up; still, it was good enough that it could stave off most bites and clawings. He also picks up his aluminum baseball bat, which has been kept nearly pristine clean, only nicks and scratches on it standing testament to its use, and helmet.<br/><br/>He waited, patiently. He had explain to Olivia before, that this system he set up was how he's lived so long. Wait for the knocking. If the person does the right set of knocks, he'll talk, and then, open it up and see who it is. If it wasn't done right, he opened the door and came out swinging.<br/><br/>Not that the zombies ever actually had bothered him here. They shambled through the parking lot, in the beginning, but he kept so quiet, even when they did occasionally bang against the side of the building, that they just left.<br/><br/>He put one finger to his lips as he looked at Ollie, just a gentle reminder to her to keep quiet.  They have no way of knowing what's on the other side of the metal door; their were no windows or the like in the kitchen, which is where this entrance was.<br/><br/>After he gave her the gesture to be quiet, he slipped the helmet on. The thing was meant to take direct hits to cement at high speeds while keeping the wearers head safe. It was a good piece of armor to have. Plus, the visor meant that he could see well, but his face would be protected from blood spatter.