Rumbling to just in front of the still chained gate of the parking lot he turned the truck off and actually slid out of his seat and sat on the floor near the sleeper section of the truck. Laying sideways would make it much harder to shoot should more of the deaders come sniffing around for a free meal around the warm beast of Annabelle.
Pulling the revolver from it's holster at his leg and knelt just below the window of the truck his eyes roaming over the horizon. Something in the back of his jumbled mind told him Deadheads would be the least of their worries. The roads are rife with roving gangs looking to set up shop anywhere or looking to strip the resources from anything they could. A sealed scrap shop would be one of the primmest places to call your own or picked clean of anything that wasn't a full building attached to the ground. Why wasn't this place some leather clad goons fort or a pile of rubble collapsed to the ground because someone stole the nails and copper wire from the walls?
He inched closer to Dawn and pulled her down onto the floor to talk. "Question...why is the place in such good condition? Crap like this is a favorite place for bandits and shit to take over?"
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