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Matthew Josiah Adams awoke from his slumber to the sound of motorcycle engines.

Houston was devastated. It had tried to stand up to the damage brought on by the tornadoes but the hurricane right after had demolished most of the city. Now, the once-proud city was left in ruins and most of the population had perished from the flooding and the wreckage.

God had forsaken Houston. Despite the prominent and faithful congregation that lived there and the prosperous churches like Lakewood Church, Houston had not been spared.

But Matt wasn't thinking about the tragedy of the apocalypse that he had somehow survived. He was thinking of crushing the heart of whoever was making that racket. Even though it was well past the morning, he had still been asleep. He had been up late the previous night foraging for supplies.

His mom and brother needed food and water. He had found a little for them, but he had gone without the previous night. He was exhausted from the search and the hunger in his stomach hadn't helped. Sleep had been easy and he hadn't been disturbed by dreams.

He hadn't been disturbed by anything until the sound of choppers cut through the eerie silence. Resentfully, he opened his eyes and rose to find the source of the sound. He slung his backpack on and gripped his machete, clipping it to his belt. The weapon was a reassuring weight on his hip.

Matt scanned glowering eyes at the landscape of grey. Overcast skies laid the land in low light, as if just before rain, but the rain never came. The clouds above had been driven away by the smoke from the increased volcanic activity, which hung over America like so much smog. He cast a look skyward and wished to see the sun again. He felt the heat indirectly during the day, but he longed for rays of the sun's light to warm over his skin.

He started walking down the street towards the highway on ramp. Once he overlooked the highway, he spotted the source of the noise that had roused him. Several men were riding in a tight formation, clad in heavy leather jackets. He stared at them, his hand unconsciously resting on the handle of his camping machete, looted right after the tragedy from the local Walmart.

Matt watched the group of men approach on their motorcycles, the apparent leader dismounting and striding over to him. Matt took in his black leather jacket and sturdy denim blue jeans. He would have drawn his weapon if the other man hadn't displayed totally non-threatening body language.

Matt didn't detect any deceit or malfeasance in the man's words or manner. Instead, he appeared to be on the level. He held up his hands to show he wasn't carrying a weapon. That put Matt at ease. If he meant him harm, he was doing an incredibly bad job of it.

It probably said something about him that Matt didn't assume good intentions immediately, even though the man was making a show of good faith by not going to meet him armed. Matt had, at one time, been willing to trust other people, that even if they hurt him or his family that ultimately they meant well.

But that had been the pre-apocaplyse version of him. The tragedy that struck the world had changed his point of view. Previously, he was a Godly man, walking in the ways of the Lord. He believed that all things worked together for his good because he loved God. But after the end of the world, his foundation was shaken.

He had seen the incredible loss of life, the decimation of his home city, and the insurmountable odds the survivors of the apocalypse now faced. 'Why would God have let this happen?' he remembered thinking. The only answer he had was that God wouldn't. And yet, it had happened. So many people had died, so much of their lives were ruined. And God had not helped them.

"I don't need any more mouths to feed," Matt replied, instantly. He knew the biker men weren't asking for a handout of food, but Matt didn't care much for the idea of company. More people required more food and Matt was having enough trouble with feeding his mother and younger brother.

"And if you're recruiting into a gang, I don't want any part of that, anyway." In the back of his mind, Matt knew he was being unnecessarily rude to the newcomers, but he couldn't force himself to be patient. The gnawing hunger in his stomach was tearing at his attention and it had been growing steadily over the past few days. He hadn't had much to eat, preferring to pass food rations on to his family. His stomach growled, loud and long enough for the biker man and his companions to hear it.

Unconsiously, Matt rested his hand over his stomach, the pain of an empty stomach beginning again. He knew he needed food soon. He absolutely had to get away from these biker men and scavenge some food.

Matt eyed the food the other man offered him. His stomach jumped at the sight of real meat, urging him to take it before the offer could be rescinded. He had to force himself to think the action through.

Nothing came for free, especially for a stranger. The food might have a cost to pay. Matt wasn't just making the decision for himself. He was the primary provider for his mother and brother.

If the cost of accepting the food from the biker was something along of the lines of taking up arms with them, he didn't want it. But the man hadn't just offered him something for his empty stomach, he had offered him protection in his 'clan.' It still sounded an awful lot like a gang to Matt.

But the thing that intrigued him most about the biker man's offer was the part about establishing a stable home for their clan. In this man's group, his family would be fed and protected. He could travel with this man and meanwhile he could rest assured, knowing his only remaining family was protected.

Looking at the container of deer meat and other food items, Matt weighed the options. "What's the catch, here?" he asked, tentatively. Despite the promising future the biker man was offering him, he still didn't know why he was making the offer at all.

From the looks of them, they wouldn't be recruiting for muscle. They not only had enough of that between the four of them, but Matthew knew he didn't have any muscle to spare. He was a skinny twig of a man and his survival skills lay more in forethought and calculation than brute force.

"I mean, you don't just get something for nothing. That isn't how the world works. It wasn't that way before the end and it sure as hell isn't that way now. So what gives?" Matt inquired, meeting the taller, more muscled man's eyes.

Matt kept his eyes on the man's face as he spoke. He was good with words, Matt had to admit. The man standing across from him was charismatic and quite convincing.

However, Matt didn't wholly disbelieve him. The biker man was probably genuinely interested in banding together, for the sake of survival. There were greater chances in groups than alone. Teamwork was vital in times like these.

Perhaps he could use the man's offer to join his clan to his advantage. It was true that having some help taking care of his family would allow him to focus on his true goals. The desperation of the end of the world had set him so far back, that he hadn't even thought of chasing his goals since the tragedy.

"Alright," he said, taking the food Ricky offered him. He quickly opened the container and pulled out a piece of deer jerky. Biting into it, he continued. "You have yourself a deal. I'll join your clan, in exchange for protection and provision for the members of my family."

He chewed on the jerky while he held out his free hand to the man. "My name is Matthew Adams." He shook the man's hand and went back to tearing into the jerky like a starving dog. After a few minutes of eating, his stomach quelled into compliance, he stopped to speak again. "I just have a few provisos. Y'know, conditions. You willing to hear them?"


(( I hear ya there, this is something new for me. Matt's not like any characters I've ever played or written for. He's kinda fun, though. He's really smart and sly.))