Another dawn rose on a vastly changed world. The city streets belonged to the gently falling rain and the shuffling zombies. Occasionally, a rat might skitter in between the shambling grey feet, seeking scraps within a dim alleyway, but pickings were slim. The low growls and scraping of shoes or limbs could not break the general silence that had fallen over the once bustling city.

A large, brass bird flapped its metallic wings once as it circled the overcast sky. It suddenly dived and a group of startled pigeons fled to the sky. Not all made it.

Not far from the strange contraption's hunting grounds, a line of smoke crept lazily upwards, scenting the air with a mix of burning wood and tantalising, cooked vegetables and herbs. Were there any nearby neighbours who had survived the outbreak and the aftermath in the week that followed, they would have risked life and limb to tear down the door of such an audacious survivor! How dare that person not only have food, something that rapidly came to be in short supply, but to make it smell like a kings feast as well?!

"I want rice," moaned Yu Long as he spoke through the lips of the one tasting the root vegetable soup. They had been fortunate to find root vegetables three doors down, after they had cleared the property of its zombie occupants.

There had been many who turned or who were bitten in this neighbourhood. The few households to have survived either attempted to flee elsewhere, their whereabouts now unknown or had died in the search for food. One or two had simply starved to death in their homes. As much as he hated to do it, he had severed the heads of their corpses, just to be on the safe side. Who knew if they might not otherwise rise once more, even if their deaths had not been Zombie related.

"I don't think that there will be much chance to procure foreign produce now," Matthew said, honestly. They had only survived this long as they had purchased plentiful, long lasting produce as they had feared such an outbreak might come. After all, Aidan and Adam had spoken of such existing in books and moving pictures. They had only needed to seek supplies after their neighbourhood have become an abandoned one.

Yu Long internally moaned, pitifully. "If we can find some more flour, there is a chance I might at least be able to make noodles of a sort," Aidan offered and the Prince relented, grudgingly.

As the personalities within the man called Hilton, bickered, a squadron assigned to seek out supplies and survivors was quietly traipsing through the area. The drizzling rain reduced their scents that the zombies could not easily find their trail. They had abandoned the steam cars in favour of walking as zombie hearing was also quite acute. Fortunately, their eyesight was weak, especially during the light of day, otherwise they would have to kill every sighted monster.

One of the men, who happened to be short of stature and craving a cigarette, took a deep breath of air as he mingled in with the heavily armed squad. This bunch of blood thirsty, muscle-minded brutes has been sent to forage near everyday since the end and yet seldom returned without anything of use. Mostly, they sauntered back in squabbling over who had the highest kill count! And so the general had instructed him to keep an eye on this troublesome lot. It was all well and good that they wished to eliminate the undead hoard, but please think also about the task at hand!

As the former clean-up crew member exhaled, he came to realise that he had registered an anomaly. Smoke... woodsmoke... and food? He sniffed the air again, his mouth began to drool. Sure enough, floating above the low lying stench of rotting corpses, damp cobblestones and blood, there was the homely scent of someone's dinner. He poked Marie, a rose of a woman with extra sharp thorns, in the back of the arm to capture her attention. She turned to glare at him with narrowed eyes. He touched his nose and pointed upwards. She simply continued to glare.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, before leaning forward and whispering in a still tone; "I reckon someone's cooking summin' tasty."

Her glare altered just a tad to incorporate some confusion. "Huh?"

"Bloody hell woman!" He yelled, before clapping his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. Grunts and growls filled the air around them and a number of zombies began to amble towards them.

"Now you done it, Spanner," one of the men, Aston, yawned, before withdrawing his piece and blasting the head of a nearby undead into a bloody mess. The corpse collapsed, followed by a second.

"What's got your breeches in a twist?" Quentin, the illegitimate toff of their small group asked as his more standard pistol blasted a whole into the temple of small undead, the once boy child falling backward from inertia.

"Can't damn well smell it now," the one named as Spanner complained as his nose was assaulted by the odour of rotting and unwashed flesh, "but there is definitely someone cookin' summin good nearby."

"A survivor?" Quentin questioned, clearly doubting the words of the smaller man. His pistol blasted shot after shot until it became necessary to reload. He and Aston picked off the monsters still at a distance, leaving it to sister Marie to deal with those at closer range. The woman did not disappoint, carving off limbs and removing heads with simple movement and accuracy.

"Aye," Spanner confirmed, before reaching into one of his many pockets. He withdrew a small metallic ball and a winding key, inserting the latter into the former and turning it several times before tossing the contraption far to one side. This was an invention of his own making. The ball opened and a red mist oozed from little holes that appeared upon its surface. The walking corpses became attracted to the heady scent of fresh blood from within that mist and many ambled over to it. Spanner mentally counted before yelling; "Get down!"

Marie sliced the head off of the last zombie within range and followed the men into a protective crouch. The metallic ball exploded. While the damage was limited, several of the monsters within its range found themselves without the ability to stand or had become blinded by debris, or temporarily deafened by the explosion. Spanner indicated that they should move away while they still could, the loud noise would still attract more corpses to their location. And so the squad slipped away down a street with no apparent zombies.

At the lower end of this street, they came across a weak wall of debris; bricks and mortar, clearly poached from a nearby building, pipes and gutters and even charred bones. It was as high as Aston's chest, thus closer to Spanner's chin. It would not prevent monsters in the long run from passing it, but it would likely hinder their progress. The squadron had no difficulties climbing over it, inadvertently knocking down a brick or two in their haste. Past this wall, it was clear that there was not a walking corpse to be found shuffling along the wet cobblestoned street. In fact, it was eerily quiet.

In this strange, but corpseless sanctuary, the squad quickly checked themselves over for injuries, clearly aware that to be bitten by a zombie was to become infected. Being caught by their claws was less certain of infection, their general would have them isolated upon their return, were that the case.

The scent of a warm meal was much clearer here, lingering in the air with the scent of burning wood, indicating that the survivor was near. Perhaps, considering the wall, there was more than one.

They happened to see the plume of smoke emanating from the chimney before their noses could lead them in the direction of the survivor. As they traipsed along the narrow street, they noticed another small wall as well as a heap of charred remains, burned by a fire so hot, only a few bones survived. The three weapon carriers of the squad did not find this interesting, but Spanner could not help but wonder what sort of fuel had the creator of this hearth used to have so little remains within the ash. He also came to feel that this street was oddly familiar.

"Ah!" He said in recall.

"What is it now?" Marie asked him, testily.

"I came for a cleanup down here," he said, in fact, if he remembered correctly, it was even one that this squad had contacted his team for. "I cleaned the memories of a young man who got caught up with you lot."

"Are you sure it was us?" Quentin asked. They did not usually leave witnesses.

"Aye," Spanner replied. "In fact, this is the house, right here!" He pointed to one closed door, sandwiched in between doors that had either been left ajar or destroyed. Aston stepped back and noted the dying smoke plumb still oozing from it's chimney.

"This person must have the blessing of God," Aston murmured. What other person could survive not only meeting them, but actually the apocalypse itself for the past month?! Spanner nonchalantly knocked upon the door. Quentin raised his pistol to be on the safe side.

Within the property, the man paused mid bite, before placing his spoon down and lifting his able body from his chair and cautiously making his way to his door. He paused only to grab his sword, less someone thought he was weak and wished to steal his food or less zombies had learned to knock! He glanced through the tiny panel of glass and managed to count four individuals. It was also obvious that they were carrying weapons. He debated the wisdom of not opening the door, but was also quite aware that the door was not overly strong. If they wished to break it down, it would not withstand their force for long.

"Come on, lad!" One called out cheerfully. "We know you are in there. We won't hurt you or anything!"

"Idiot," came another, male voice. "What sort of fool believes the words 'we won't hurt you?' 'Tis like the wolf knocking on the door of the pig!"

Slate rolled his eyes and readied his weapon, before unlocking the door and stepping back creating a decent space between hisself and these individuals. The door creaked open and a man, not much shorter than himself, with a jovial smile beamed brightly at him. "That's a good lad!" He praised, before his eyes widened as they fell upon the shapely muscles upon the young man's arms. "Wow! You sure grew up since I saw you last!"

"Do I know you?" Slate asked with narrowed eyes.

"Not at all!" The man laughed as he indicated that his comrades should lower their weapons. "How about inviting us in for dinner so we can talk about it? I'm starving!"