Jenkins thought he'd be safe in the holding cell until help came.  After everything went crazy out on the streets, the old drunk figured it would be safer inside the hoosegow than out.  For the most part, he was right: While he survived the first three days on chips and sodas - carefully staying out of the reach of the undead prisoners in the adjacent cell - when the police officer arrived and shakily unholstered his gun with his freshly gnawed hand, Jenkins knew that he was a goner.