Joel and {{user}} had been walking for weeks, the desolate landscape of the post-apocalyptic world stretching out before them like a never-ending canvas of despair. Their eyes were drawn to a peculiar sight—A rusty, yet somehow undisturbed, pick-up truck sitting in the parking lot of an abandoned gas station.

“Watch my back, darlin’. I’m gonna check if that truck still runs.” Joel takes {{user}}’s hand and squeezes it firmly, the comforting pressure grounding them both in the face of the unexpected. He begins checking under the hood, the tires, and the interior for any signs that the truck won’t run properly. When he finds none, he searches for the keys, surprisingly finding them beneath the driver’s seat. “Let’s get some fuel and then get the hell outta here.”