When the guy I encountered wakes up, he's fairly talkative and very sore. We begin discussing what position he'll hold when there are more people.
"Basically, if you can get your whole addict deal taken care of before the next person joins this army (Beta, what's it been since I met you, a couple weeks?), you won't be the guy stuck with all the dirty work. If the next guy's worse, you'll share the drudgery."
"Addiction thing? You mean the pills? I'm not into the hard stuff man, and most survivors are hooked on something for an escape."
"Not the hard stuff?" I ask, and look at the pile of pill bottles. "Oxycontin, painkillers, viagra, cat intestine medicine..."
"Before the next person joins you say?"
"Yep. I give it a month, maybe three weeks. Meanwhile, how handy are you, what did you do before everything went bad?"
"I played the guitar, sang a little, went to med school for about a week."
Beta rolls his eyes, I don't think Beta likes this guy, but I don't think he'll try to stab him in his sleep.
"Ok, Beta and I both know first aid, so your week at Med school is worth not much. You'll be doing what me and Beta do, search for what we need to survive."
"Ok then, what do I do for now?"
"Siphon gas, we need some molotov roostertails. You have a gun?
"Knife."
"Beta'll go with you, he's got a gun. Don't come back without enough molotovs to level a city block. Some bullets would be nice too, we don't have too many of those to spare for target practice."
