(http://www.tribute.ca/tribute_objects/images/stars/cherry_jones.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">CLAIRE ANDERSON</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>On a suburban side street, somewhere in NW Wellington<br/><strong>With:</strong>Lilly, Olivia, Marcus, Desi and John Donnelan.<br/><br/>While I struggled with my jammed revolver, the man on the bicycle was able to shoot the third attacker and then Marcus got rid of one last one that had surprised us from over a garden fence. I winced as the remains were pushed off the hood of the cruiser, leaving a long red stain. It would need washing off when we got to a pond or reservoir, left like that it would soon stink.<br/><br/>I nodded at Marcus then turned to the new fellow. His pilots overalls had a name sewn over the left breast. There was also a Union Jack patch sewn on the upper arm. I read it and then stuck out my hand to shake his.<br/><br/><strong>"Mister Donnelan, pleased to meetcha. I'm Deputy Claire Anderson and this other gentleman here is Marcus Lerron, who I only met this mornin'. In the car are Olivia, Desi and Lilly."</strong>We shook hands. I continued.<strong>"English, huh? I guess its a long answer, but I'll ask anyway, and you can answer when we get going. Uh..."</strong>I put my hand to the door handle of the Jeep, down the hill more of them could be seen coming towards us, the sounds of the firearms having drawn them out. The sight broke my train of thought.<strong>"Hey, look, you wanna ride with us? You can sit in the back, there's plenty of room if you don't mind sharing with our rucksacks and I have straps to lash your bike to the roofbars."</strong><br/><br/>We needed to get moving, and fast. It was up to this English pilot if he wanted to join us or make his own way. After losing Charlie was I trying to compensate by inviting random male survivors to join me, or was I doing it because he was alone, only had a bike and an uphill ride?