Stick to the suburbs for now

You can't run the risk of getting caught by this Khan character without weapons. The suburbs, while less likely to have useful gear, are also a much safer option than anywhere in the city proper.

With your mind made up, you stand, and carefully pick your way back through the broken glass, emerging into the sunlight once more. After looking carefully about to see if there's any signs of activity, you quickly search the area for anything that might have been missed in whatever happened while you were in the tank.

Just as you're beginning to think your search is fruitless, a metallic gleam catches your eye. Lying behind one of the pumps, half-hidden by debris, is a wicked-looking fighting knife, it's sheath lying nearby. Picking it up, you realize you don't recognize it at all. It isn't something Amy left for you. However, you're still thankful for it.

Tucking the knife in the waistband of your panties, you set off towards the suburbs, keeping to whatever cover is handy. Your progress is slow. More than once, you think you hear something, and you dive behind the nearest obstacle, huddling there until you believe it's safe. Furthermore, the hot asphalt is cooking your tender soles, and the debris makes every step treacherous.

You finally hit the suburbs at dusk. The temperature has dropped to something approaching comfortable, and the asphalt, while still warm, no longer burns. Padding through the suburbs, you start working your way through them, house by house. Many of them are outright destroyed, and those you pass up. Others require some work to investigate, faint glimpses of items that look useful causing you to bend and squeeze through rubble in an effort to reach them. Some of these items turn out to be useless. Others, such as a working flashlight and pack of batteries, and a lighter, are far more useful.

Several hours later, in the dead of night, you're pretty exhausted, and a little beat-up. As you slip into the house you decide you'll be sleeping in tonight, you glance at yourself. Shifting rubble almost buried you once, and you've acquired numerous scratches as well. Your feet are sore, but thankfully they aren't torn up. Your tank top has several snags and tears in it, courtesy of ragged beams and unseen nails. Your right nipple, miraculously unscathed by the nail that punctured your shirt, sticks out through one of them.

On the other hand, you found some useful items. While clothing and footwear have still proven a challenge, you did find a backpack, flashlight and batteries, a lighter, a 6-pack of bottled water, several cans of food, several feet of rope, and a lightweight sleeping bag and shelter. At the very least, you won't die of exposure, and you have food and water for the near future.

As you pick through the rubble of the house you're in, though, you hit the jackpot of the night. A portion of the house had burned, and you had discarded that area as a result. However, on your way back through the house, a squat, boxy object caught your eye, nearly hidden under fallen debris. Approaching what you guess was the closet of a bedroom, you carefully remove enough of the debris to realize you had found a fireproof safe. Trying the lock, you're surprised to find it opens easily. Inside sits an old, but obviously well-maintained, Colt M1911, with three 7-round magazines. While a .45 ACP is a bit bigger a round than you prefer, it beats the hell out of nothing, and you take it and the magazines. Turning towards a partially scorched dresser, you paw through it, hoping for anything else useful. While almost all the clothes within aren't even close to fitting you, and many are half-burned, you do at least find a tattered pair of jeans that are only a little loose on you. Pulling them up, you silently curse whoever thought frayed and tattered jeans were fashionable. The thighs of the jeans are frayed from nearly your hips to almost your knees, and the ass is the same way. They've obviously been worn a lot, too, because a lot of the once-decorative fraying is now outright holes. They definitely beat just your panties for clothing, though, and you aren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least you're mostly decent now.

Heading back downstairs, you finally make your way to a semi-intact couch to catch some sleep, and you doze off...