He was a preacher. A married man with four kids. He woke up every morning to bacon, eggs and blessings from God. Now, he found himself on the floor of the Ceasar casino in Vegas, his arms and legs chewed up and blood spewing from bite marks in his neck, stomach and head. His name was Rory Milligan, and he died because of false hope. Joe Reagan found Rory and his church group inside of the casino, their big yellow bus parked outside. Joe hardly left his truck for other survivors, but lately humanity had attempted to rebuilt itself. There were camps, sections of city, even trading routes that were developed. Humanity was building itself back up despite the reanimated dead, and the mutated animals. Joe left his truck to trh and get some money, food, medicine or whatever he could get that he would be able to use for himself, or trade others for it. Instead, Joe came out with a few bags of money, and a group of young Christian survivors. The group had been attacked by the last group to trh surviving in the casino. Joe looked in the mirror of the bus, watching the group silently as he drove down the strip.