1: Day 1 - Outbreak

Zack finishes up one long vicious scream with all his might before he finally stills, breathing heavily. He clenches and unclenches his fists as they steam and bleed before, calming his nerves he grabs his pack and rifle, sling them onto his back and, tired and in pain, slowly walks to the motorcycle, picks up the keys and finishes filling her up, closes the tank, dons the helmet, if one is in sight, and starts her up.
"This is fucking stupid..." He sighs, wheeling her round and cruising past the creature's body, stopping just long enough to snap off a photograph of the beast, giving any people, monsters or congestion a wide berth, looking for a garage somewhere he can pry bar the lock off and roll up to slide him and his cycle inside.

"Here will do for tonight." Zack sighs, clearly tired but not quite done for the day.
First off he uses his phone torch to navigate and looks for a car battery, if he finds one he sets up a simple resistor and does the math accordingly and gets his laptop charging, which he boots up and charges his phone.
On his laptop he begins what is to be his diary of the apocalypse, spending an hour writing up everything that has happened, keeping phone and laptop in low power mode even if it charges from a battery, when he is done he saves and backs up on his phone just in case.
Powering down his laptop he begins to rummage through the side satchels for anything that may be there and then begins to redistribute his gear to achieve a light load.
That hour or so of tasks completed he cleans and tends to his injuries and provides care for his own recovery, finally using his body armor as a crude blanket he lays down on his bike to sleep, MC style, sleeping fitfully.

Zacks dreams are fitful and unpleasant, waking intermittently are brief respite, his tiredness however pulls him back in mercilessly time and again.
Eventually come morning, he wakes and slowly but surely sits up, sighing.
"Still alive..." He murmurs to himself.
Slowly donning armor he heads to a box of auto parts, ones of no use to him, finding one with sufficient indentation for his morning leavings he takes care of business, eventually coming to listen at the door.
He waits for some time in silence until he is sure nobody is outside and opens the shutters partway, enough to see, and adjust to the light, when sufficiently sure he is unobserved he opens it just enough to crouch under and, handgun in hand, steps out, closing the shutter behind him when he is sure he is secure, sweeping the area and getting a good lay of the land in daylight thereafter.
That done he makes for the other garages and has a short recce and scavenge, especially on the lookout for a battery torch or lantern, if he finds a more spacious, less full garage he moves his bike over to there and claims it as home.
After his scavenge, and emptying of his impromptu toilet in another, less inviting garage, he settles in, hopefully in a garage with more room, and exercises, shadow boxing in the dark, shutter open just an inch for low light, he gets to know his guns and tries, several times, to meditate, each time being distracted by his anger, eventually come evening if unmolested he closes the shutter, tends to his injuries again, changing bandages and applying creams to speed his recovery, and rests fitfully that night.
If still unmolested, tomorrow will be much the same, his burns mostly healed by then he reconnoiters his local surroundings, taking pains for security as the day before he takes his motorcycle out to survey local streets, taking pains to just outright avoid people and monsters, avoiding tight spaces and taking another route back, sure not to be followed, spending the day exercising, lifting car parts and attempting to focus his rage.

Zack - Waking early from your third night of interrupted rest in the garage you, feeling somewhat safe and a little groggy from sleep, open up the garage shutter door and head to the garage opposite for your morning ablutions in your makeshift car-part toilet.
On your way back to your garage you see a large shadow approaching, it looks to be heading as though to pass the turning for the garages.

Wakuda - With your former gang memebers dead and several 10s of miles behind you. You find youself in the boardline of the Industrial section and the Residential section, most of the houses here are either cheap terraced housing or multistorey flats; both cheap and dingy, the few shops you see have smashed in or boarded over windows and seem to have been picked clean by looters or rival gangs from what you can see from the street.
After 7 of your usual 8 hour days travelling you see the houses getting marginally bigger, with small roads leading behind towards what appear to be garages. From the next row of houses away you can hear creaking and clanging of movement.

Dadi - Deep in the bowels of Domavad within the Domivadian History Museum Dadi is getting ready for his first trip out since the power gone outage. Checking over the old blueprints of Domavad you find that 2 blocks away there should be a supermarket, so with that in mind you head out through the front doors of the museum out onto the streets of Domavad.

Dadi stands in the great doorway at the top of the steps that lead into the museum and squints ill-tempered at the brightness. He claps his hands "right!" He exclaims to himself "groceries... Chocolate, baked beans and cheese... Most important: olives" he mumbles. Stiff backed he marches towards the supermarket humming. "DA DA DUM DA DUM DA DUM!"

Zack - Gaining any sort of cover proves difficult with the garage doors shut and no gaps between garages, so you crouch down at the far end in front of a garage with the broken door. A few moments pass as the shadow slowly approaches, getting larger as it does until you finally see a familiar lumbering form covered in pustules, however, this one seems to be wearing a terrifying mask. At its waist a huge nail-covered bowling ball welded to a thick post of metal. On it's back a huge rucksack. It's arms outstretched in front of it holding what looks to be a packet of food and a bottle.

Wakuda - Taking the packet of jerky and bottle of water from your rucksack you slowly advancd towards the sounds, though they quickly stop to be followed by a small amount of footsteps, then nothing.
You approach the turning behind the row of houses to see a 6 garages, arranged in a U-shape, 2 with broken doors and all closed, at the far end you see a form crounched with a gun pointed your way.

Dadi - Leaving the museum you exit onto the streets of Domavad city centre, towering buildings surround you, some seem to have recently been ablaze, most with at least one broken window. Glass, blood and corpses litter the streets around here. You didn't realise just how bad it had gotten. Undeterred, and with route in mind, you begin heading in the direction of a supermarket, you estimate it to be about a 3 hour walk.
As you walk the streets of Domavad, it seems far quieter than you've ever know this once thriving streets to be, though the noises you do hear is that of bins being knocked over in the distance, or windows being shattered. Starting to feel a little nervous you keep your eyes and ears about you. A few minutes pass like this until out of nowhere you feel a hand grab your shoulder, "Please friend, don't walk these streets alone. You'll be killed, I've seen them, mutants, and the gangs..." says a voice quietly in your ear, as you turn you see an old man standing in an alley to your left, his clothes of simple jeans and a jacket are torn and he has cuts across his face, "...come with me," he gestures down the alley to an open door where you see an old woman watching the pair of you and gesturing for you both to come to her.

(Zack and Wakuda, turn time, Zack it is your turn)