(I'm a titlemaster of sorts and I figured out a fun way to title this as an anagram. Try to figure it out
)
Mako sighed as things were finally quiet. That didn't mean anything was safe by any measure. He stood at 6'1, short black hair, green eyes, and had on a simple shirt and jeans. Inside his bomb shelter that he never wanted to use, but was now the only one to use it in his town.
According to protocol, waiting at least a week for radiation to die down was best, given that the bomb didn't land right outside his shelter. He put on a simple black ski mask to filter out some possibly dangerous air. It didn't work like a gas mask of course, but it made him feel more comfortable then inhaling fumes that might be present.
After exiting he located a motorcyle and saw most other vehicles were gone or damaged beyond operation. He put some supplies into a bag he had, put a gun into the bag, and hoped he wouldn't have to use it while he searched for help.
30 miles went by far too slowly, radio silence, and the wind becoming far too lulling, he spotted a city that hadn't been laid to waste like a few others he passed. He drove up to the edge of it and waited to spot signs of life.