"She'd heard a few days ago, on one of the last remaining radio stations broadcasting in her area, that an enclave was forming farther to the west, in Northern California. All survivors were urged to make their way there, by whatever means they could. The timing was right; the group she'd been staying with had been wiped out by z's two days ago, and she barely managed to get out alive. All she had were the clothes on her back, a beat up old VW with a full tank of gas, and hope that she could cross the desert without running into any of the roving hoards of the un-dead. So far, so good..."