Ch 15: Making Connections
Verse 1
The group huddled around Tailor as he fiddled with wires and antennas, trying to get a tablet in a rugged black and yellow case to pick up radio signals. Rachelle sat nearby, going over a list of medical supplies they needed to stock up on, while Erzabet paced back and forth, trying to ease her anxious energy.
Trace watched Tailor work, his eyes lingering on the other man's hands as they deftly twisted and connected wires. Finally, he spoke up.
"Where do we go from here? Any leads on other survivors?" Trace asked.
Tailor looked up from his work, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I'm still trying to get this thing to work. But we can start by heading to the nearest city and scanning for any radio signals."
Rachelle nodded in agreement. "We should also try to find a pharmacy or hospital to stock up on medical supplies. I don't want to run out of antibiotics or painkillers."
Erzabet chimed in, "It'll only get more crowded in the city. More snacks!"
Trace furrowed his brow in thought. "What about the underground tunnels beneath the city? I heard they were used during Prohibition to smuggle alcohol. Maybe we can find a safe way in down there."
Tailor nodded, impressed by Trace's knowledge. "That's a great idea. We can use the tablet to map out the tunnels and find a secure spot."
As Tailor continued to work on the tablet, the others discussed their plans. They talked about the risks and the challenges ahead, but they also talked about the hope they held for finding other survivors and rebuilding the world.
After several hours of tinkering, Tailor finally got the tablet to pick up a faint radio signal. The group cheered and high-fived each other, grateful for any small victory.
As they packed up their gear and prepared to set out on their journey, Trace pulled Tailor aside.
"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for letting me come with you guys," Trace said, a small smile on his face.
Tailor grinned, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Of course, man. We're in this together."
The group of four rode their solar-powered bikes through the deserted streets of an abandoned suburb. The houses looked empty, but every now and then, they would catch a glimpse of a zombie going through the motions of their former lives. One zombie was standing at a mailbox, repeatedly opening and closing it. Another was shuffling down the street with a lawnmower.
Tailor led the way, his laptop balanced precariously on the handlebars. "I'm picking up some chatter on the ham radio frequencies," he said, "but it's mostly static. We need to find a better signal."
Rachelle, who was riding next to him, nodded in agreement. "And we need to keep moving. The longer we stay in one place, the greater the chance we'll attract unwanted attention."
Erzabet, who was pedaling behind them, grinned. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm feeling pretty invincible with my newly liberated bike."
Trace, who was bringing up the rear, chuckled. "Yeah, we're more likely to be targeted by the living than the undead."