If somebody had told her that she would experience a zombie apocalypse in her lifetime, Mabel would have dismissed it as nonsense. Not because she didn't think such a thing wasn't possible, but because nothing interesting ever happened in her small farming town in Iowa where there were far more cows than people. And when the zombies started coming, it was with little warning. Or maybe there was warning, but she had disregarded her lack of tv signal that week as something that happened every time the wind changed direction (which wasn't too much of a loss when her only channel was Fox news) and her ancient computer had been dead for over a month after managing to download some sort of virus even though it never managed to download much else with her unreliable dial-up connection.
However, after killing off her newly zombie-infected family without too much remorse and the rest of the town's minimal now undead population, there really wasn't much else for Mabel to do. It was safe and quiet, her home too far off from any other major cities to speak of, that there really wasn't much threat of further invasion. Which was alright by Mabel until she started getting restless and bored with only the occasional zombie to butcher, and then the only convenience store in town had ran out of tampons. That wasn't going to end well. Loading up her bright yellow pickup truck with enough rifles and ammo to hold her own revolution, Mabel took off toward the south for hopefully warmer weather, some more zombies to kill, and hopefully the chance to see the beach before she died.
Problem was, Mabel hadn't ever set foot outside of her county in the 26 years of her life, and the world turned out to be a lot bigger and more confusing than she thought possible even with the battered US road map she had managed to find that dated back to the 1990s. Apparently a lot of construction happened within 20 years. Although intent on finding her way to Florida (because it seemed more likely to get there than Hawaii when it came to fancy vacation spots), her progress was slow-going as she made her way through towns and discovered the rest of the country wasn't any better off.
But at least there was always plenty of stores to raid for supplies, finding herself at the Target in some town the signs proclaimed as Hixson. Taking care of all of (at least she hoped) of the zombies in the store was easy enough for the self-proclaimed zombie destroying expert, but not without incident. During a scuffle that almost ended in a close call she had managed to scrape her forehead open on the edge of a shelf and slipped in a fresh pool of zombie innards that she was now covered in, resulting in a twisted ankle and a bruised knee.
"Eurgh," she groaned in pain as she walked with a pathetic limp, rounding the corner to the food aisle in hopes that there was plenty left for the taking. Blood and guts didn't really detract from her appetite.