Brigele packed the food away quickly, now not offering anymore. She hoisted the back onto her back, and stood, headed to stand at the edge of the roof, watching the
things stumble beneath, moaning and clawing at the side of the house. She rolled her eyes, and turned back to the group. "So. What use are you three? What can you do that will help my gro- my uncle and I survive. What we offer you is shelter, and food. Weapons, too, since it looks like you're out of ammunition."
Carlos had found the truck, jammed a screwdriver in the key slot, and taken his timepicking through the glove box, and the sunvisor pockets. When he found nothing particularly useful except for a lighter, he set off, knowing his Brigelle was waiting somewhere in the lower suburb. Grinning, he took out more walkers with the
Mack truck than anything else.