Harvey loaded a gun, a small pistol he had found on the ground beside a dead man, near the Mart and in decent condition. He'd need it, along with the dull silver blade that rest in his pocket. It weighed down his track jacket, a familiar weight that comforted him. With that weight he knew he could fight.
He was heading to go see the mall, the largest tomb in Murkwell. He hadn't been there since the lights went out, when the hospital went dark and he ran there in hope of light. Everyone was dying. The last time he visited there, Harvey felt the soul crushing fact that he was probably going to die. He'd stayed away from there, from that feeling, for weeks.
He'd stay away no longer.
"I'm going to the mall to investigate!" he announced one "morning," a bag over his shoulder filled with food and batteries. "Some of you should come with. It could be dangerous."