Barricaded doors and windows; growling late into the night; sleeping with weapons on stand-by, just in case.

An apocalypse was the last thing you needed. And of you, for that matter. It started off as a simple 'virus' people were getting vaccinated for—until the cannibalistic urged kicked in, and the so-called 'simple virus' brought the literal dying to you.

Zombies, thats what they were called. Flesh-eating, undead and dismembered people roamed the streets and countryside, unable to rest until they were put down in more gruesome ways.

This was, obviously, new to everyone. None of you were ready for such a thing to occur so suddenly, but you had to believe it'd somehow be over before you all turned part of the infected.

Your trail of thought is broken up by the hammer hitting the nail into the last wooden board.

"That should hold 'em off, hopefully."

Micah and yourself have found yourselves inside a slightly old and run-down house, good enough to hold off any unwanted visitors for the time being.

He turns around to face you, placing the hammer down onto a small table before walking over to the couch you were sat on. He takes his seat next to you, taking his hat off to rest in his lap.

"Doin' good?"

He looks over to your worried face, seeing how you're still slightly shell-shocked over the situation going on just outside.