Alex's crotch had gone completely numb after several hours on his bicycle. Unlike many other survivors, he had no car to travel with, and figured it would be safer to use a bicycle anyway. With the noise minimized and no dependence on fuel, he could travel infinitely, and fit through narrow spaces if necessary anyway. The trade-off was severe ass and crotch discomfort, but he didn't care, even in this crisis he was still committed to helping Mother Earth.<br/><br/>The city was a shambles, his whole family missing, presumed dead (or undead, now) so he didn't stick around to find out which. Emptying the cupboards, raiding the garage and setting out on his bike, he left and never looked back, sticking to country roads or off-road areas with his thick mountain bike tires and NEVER GO FLAT tubes protecting him from getting stranded on foot. His backpack was filled with cans of soup, beans, whatever he knew would help him survive. There were also packages of crackers, Pop Tarts, granola bars, whatever he could dig out of the cupboards that wouldn't go bad on him after a week or two...if the food managed to hold out that long. And of course, a can opener.<br/><br/>That took up the bulk of the space in his backpack, the rest were kitchen knives and screwdrivers (long ones) he brought with him for protection. Those were for last-resort escapes, however, because he was packing two pistols his father had for some reason left behind during the family's escape from the house. Both were fully loaded but he had only one spare load of bullets after that, and he prayed he'd never have to use them at all. So far so good; staying out of sight and quiet was the best plan after all. Though, his journey took days longer than most others'.<br/><br/>He wasn't really sure where he was going, not having a radio, but he figured finding a small town or at least some other survivors would help him figure it out. And sure enough, the strong smell of burning corpses, mingled with some other chemical stench, caught his nose. If anything, that meant someone had done some serious ass-kicking and probably knew how to defend against a horde of the undead. He headed in the direction of the smell, choking back vomit as it got stronger, and hoped his hunch was right.<br/><br/>He came upon a sign that read "Potossi: Population 2519". Well, that certainly sounded like a small town. He let his bike roll down a slope into town from the opposite end of where Route 8 would, since he had avoided any named roads. It was quiet; no moans or screams or explosions or gunshots. That was a good sign...potentially. Zombies didn't moan unless they saw prey, though, so that might have just meant the whole town was undead and he was about to start them off moaning. But at least there were buildings here; he'd rather sleep on a rooftop than in another tree again.<br/><br/>But suddenly he whirled around as he heard a loud roaring, and watched a Hummer plowing through the city as if out of control, and crash into the wall of a church building. "Oh, shit..." Alex gasped, racing over to the accident. He just hoped he wasn't walking towards a car being driven by a zombie, since that might have been the reason it crashed. But if there was a chance that a genuine human life was at stake, he needed to at least try.<br/><br/>The Hummer was tipped over, so Alex dismounted his bike, not even bothering to put the kickstand up, and let his backpack fall to the ground. He climbed up onto the part of the Hummer that was facing up now; thankfully that was the driver's door so he'd have an easier time seeing if the driver was in fact a zombie or not. The driver appeared unconscious, and zombies never slept, he knew that. The door was unlocked so he pulled it open; the minute it was open all the way it fell off the hinges. "Well, hell..." Alex chuckled, throwing it to the ground. "Hey, mister, you all right?" he asked, poking the driver in the neck and shoulder. Quick jabs, in case it really was a zombie and would try to surprise him with a bite.