[open] Home again, home a-- uh oh.
It's nighttime when John rolls back into town. He'd taken one of the more fuel-efficient of the unclaimed cars around town, rather than his solid yet thirstier usual ride, and had, for the last couple of days, been ranging around the perimeter of the town and its outlying regions, checking on the state of the quarantine... which, as it turned out, was "nonexistent."
He parks the car back where he'd gotten it from, leaving it unlocked and with the wires that need to be struck to hotwire it to life readily findable. (It's not really his car, and someone else might have a use for it, so he might as well make it simpler for the next person.) From the backseat, he pulls out an old canvas Army issue duffel bag, which he slings over one shoulder as he makes his way back to his office and maybe crash there instead of going all the way home just yet.
That is, of course, assuming that he doesn't run into anyone else along the way. Anyone... or anything.
He parks the car back where he'd gotten it from, leaving it unlocked and with the wires that need to be struck to hotwire it to life readily findable. (It's not really his car, and someone else might have a use for it, so he might as well make it simpler for the next person.) From the backseat, he pulls out an old canvas Army issue duffel bag, which he slings over one shoulder as he makes his way back to his office and maybe crash there instead of going all the way home just yet.
That is, of course, assuming that he doesn't run into anyone else along the way. Anyone... or anything.