"I can see the sign. Keep your eyes peeled." I urged Nigel before removing the safety. The large guitar shaped sign on the side of the building loomed in the distance. "What's this guy's name anyway?" Nigel asked as he kept his hand ready on the hilt. "Roland. That's what Nakamura said. Though we ought to be cautious. In a world like this one, we can't be too trusting. Other survivors are the most dangerous enemy we can encounter."

Nigel furrowed his brows as if to ask what I meant, but the appearance of a red lasered dot on my chest made him freeze. "Nate, don't move." He urged, holding out a hand as if to bar me from going any further. "Why the hell not? We're almost—"

"Don't take another step." The echo of a megaphone interrupted my sentence. I felt my chest muscle sink to my ankles as a synchronized hiss filled the air. "Shit." I growled as I looked around. All the zombos around the area turned their attention to the noise in front of us. It was then that I noticed the red dot climbing up my chest to my head and resting on my forehead.

"What do you want?" The person with the megaphone asked once I'd lowered my weapon. "We're looking for Roland. Nakamura sent us!" I shouted back just as a crawler approached us from behind and gripped my ankle. Nigel used his dagger to pierce through the legless corpse's skull, pinning it to the concrete below.

"Thank you." I whispered before turning my gaze back to the music store. "What is the purpose of your visit?" The voice asked again. "We need a vehicle. I'm trying to get to another state and Nakamura said you were the man for the job!" Nigel shouted, his voice carrying clearly above the snarls. "Shit!" I cursed as I reached for my machete and sliced through a half-naked show girl's throat. A fountain of  blood dyed the blue feathers of her brassier as she collapsed.

Nigel also turned and with a swipe of his blade, dropped three more zombos. "We've got to move!" I shouted, pulling Nigel by his sleeve  and leading him towards the building. "Wait! He'll shoot you!" He protested. I paid him no mind until we were pressed up against the side wall of the store. "No he won't. One, he can't see us here and two if he wanted to kill us we would've been dead the moment we were within scoping range!" I reasoned before firing a bolt and striking an undead Elmo in the eye. The suit protected the zombie inside.

"Shit, move!" Nigel shouted once we heard the metal door begin to creak open behind us. "Oh hell!" I screamed as I caught sight of some very fast homies barreling towards us from the top of the hill. "Come on...come on!" I urged the door as if it could move any faster.  I kept my bow steady and aimed as they approached us. I'd create an opening so at least Nigel could make it inside. An unflattering yelp left my lips as Nigel yanked me in by my back pack. A dull bang could be heard as the homies crashed against the door, but there wasn't much they could do. The mechanism was already in full reverse and they were too dumb to try going beneath it.

Within a minute the doors were closed. I sat on the floor panting with Nigel beside me, bent 

over and resting his hands on his thighs as he too caught his breath. "You better have something to trade." A raspy voice called from the second story storage that had now clearly been turned into a look-out. After straightening himself out, Nigel turned and offered me his hand. "You Roland?" I asked short and straight as I rested my crossbow on the counter. "One and only." He puffed, a cloud of putrid cuban smoke filled the checkout.

I looked at him skeptically, trying to remember if I'd seen him before the Pandemic wiped people out. "What can I do ya' for?" He asked Nigel who now stood beside me.  "I need transportation and this is all I've got." My eyes widened when I laid eyes on the Rolex and assorted handful of jewels he pulled from his pocket. He also placed two small boxes of rifle ammo which he'd taken out from his duffle Roland's focus landed on the beautiful watch. "Got any perishables?" The male asked, his six o' clock shadow made him look all scruffy.

I took off my bag and produced as much stuff as I could part with, leaving myself with only the bare minimum to survive. Pleased with all the tribute we had to offer, Roland took the key from the chain around his neck and unlocked a wall safe behind him. He pulled out a map with the exact location of a private hanger and air strip out in the middle of the desert by the outskirts of Nevada. "That's your ride." Roland pointed to the hanger. "I've got a Cessna 421 fueled and ready to take you boys across them state lines." 

Roland paused for a second before turning to me. "No drugs across them lines." He warned, his expression as serious as his tone. I furrowed my brows. "Wait, you serious?" I asked, more than ready to protest the validity of that rule in a zombie apocalypse when Nigel chimed in. "No worries, he's not going. Only me." My focus jumped instinctively from Roland to the guy I'd considered my travel partner for over a week. His expression was calm, collected. He was right. Our agreement only bound us until he could find a way back, and now he'd found it. So why did Nigel's accurate statement leave such a bitter taste in my mouth?

"Cool. So bunker down here tonight and we'll head out in the morning. Take a left and follow the wall of guitars to the stairs in the back. There's a small single at the top where you can shower and change, no bed though so you better start unfurling them sleeping bags." He said before waving us away so he could bask in his bartered spoils.