Kyle sat at the old hotel table, dealing out piles of tattered cards while Jeremiah looked around upstairs, his old boots thumping across the floor. Or that could have been the zombies, still pounding on the hotel glass. Kyle cracked open a can of Coka-Cola, took a quick swig, and continued to deal out cards. The record player was on again, this time playing Beethoven's Fifth, louder than usual, intended to drown out the zombies incessant banging and groaning. Jeremiah thumped down the stairs, a bag of beef jerky in hand, and dragged a leather chair over to the small table, gazing up at the failing hotel lights. "How the heck did you get all this set up?" Jeremiah asked cracking open the bag.
"With great difficulty," Kyle replied placing his gun on the table.
Glancing at the shiny pistol for a moment, Jeremiah broke the uneven silence. "How many zombies have you killed?" he asked sharply.
Glancing up over the record player, Kyle frowned. "Why does it matter?" he asked slightly angry.
"Well, I mean your guns are all clean and polished. They look showroom quality," Jeremiah commented.
"I've killed my fair share, the main thing is maintaining silence. Zombies are smarter than most people bargain for, they talk to each other, they plan," Kyle replied mystically.
"Yeah, okay," Jeremiah replied popping a piece of jerky into his mouth.
"What? You think I'm nuts?! I haven't survived because I've had my head up my ass, I've been moving, but not along the ground. Oh no, that's asking for a death sentence. I have a network, I can move anywhere in the city without anything knowing I'm there, except the rats if you catch my drift," Kyle replied calming down.
"What, the sewers?" Jeremiah answered slightly disgusted.
"I know it's gross to wade through someone elses...leftbehinds, but it's better than being zombie chow I'm telling you," Kyle replied smirking.
Looking back at the zombies at the window, Jeremiah started to contemplate. "Are there any others?" he asked hopeful.
Kyle twitched as if shocked, but continued to play his card game none-the-less. "There was," Kyle sighed, "but they left town with one of the buses I "borrowed" from down the street, was able to get fifteen people by my own power I did."
"What, you stayed behind on your own?" Jeremiah asked incredulously.
Once again, Kyle twitched as if eletrocuted. "No, there were others, but there was....complications," Kyle answered.
"What happened?" Jeremiah asked curious.
"I don't want to talk about it, don't ask again," Kyle demanded angrily.
Resuming to munching on his beef jerky, Jeremiah didn't look at the zombies this time, but the doorway to the small sitting room in the back. "Do you reckon she's infected?" Jeremiah asked closing up the bag.
"I don't think so," Kyle answered re-shuffling the cards, "doesn't seem to be showing the symptoms of the virus."
"Yeah, she can still definately blush," Jeremiah replied smirking.
"Y-you shut it! I barely know you guys, until today, I thought I was the only one left in this god-damned city! I am NOT thinking about stuff like that until we are home free. Now that I've found the last few stragglers, you guys, I think it's high time that we make our exit," Kyle told cracking his neck.
"We should wait till she wakes up though," Jeremiah answered stretching out.
"We will do this together," Kyle told dealing out more cards.
Jeremiah looked at Kyle, and they held the gaze for a few moments, zombies still banging determined on the hotel glass.