Take her with you.

Though he didn't regret what he had done, he had admittedly lingered to long. It was time to canvas the apartment for supplies and clothes for her.

This diversion hadn't been completely useless. He had learned something. Don't generalize zombie behavior, apparently some could decide to take a shower. Better to see the threat everywhere, then caught unaware.

Putting his flaccid tool away, he grabbed his **** rifle and slung it over his head, onto his back. Heading into the apartment he went to her bedroom looking for a pack of some kind.

Who ever the beautiful woman was, she must have been a student. She had a backpack with text books lying on her bed. Thanking his lucky stars it was black, he emptied it out, and took it to the kitchen. Can goods, and a couple of spoons were on the menu. He wasn't sure what she ate, wasn't even sure he cared, as long as he wasn't the meal.

She had a lot of fast microwavable crap. Student on the run. But she also had several variety of soup, perfect for what he needed. Throwing cans of chili, soup, and a few vegetables, along with the spoons in the bag, he tried to think if he needed anything else.

While he continued to pack supplies, the beautiful woman just stood near bye. She had cleaned up her slit, and thrown a towel over her lithe frame. Her eyes followed every movement, though whether she understood what he was doing or not was questionable.

The old man cursed him self for not concentrating. Water. Water was abundant, every tap has water. But who knows if it will stay pure. Or when he can get his hands on more. Filling her sports bottle with the tap, he put it in the net holder that was attached to the pack. Grabbing some bottles of water, from a local store, sitting in the fridge, he topped off his new kit.

It looked like that was all he was gonna get from this place. He could think of other useful stuff, but she didn't seem to have any of it. To bad. Zipping the pack up, he stopped when he heard a noise.

Leaving the backpack sitting on the counter, he put his hand on his pistol, stared at the doorway that was still open, and listened hard. There it was again. Like a grunt or something.