Lee saw some of the others scurry for their homes to gather supplies and belongings. He was in no such rush. His tent was not far and he didn't exactly have much to gather and no one to say goodbye to. He kicked aside the empty food cans littering the floor and scooped up his single spare magazine. 12 shots in total. With that done he could at the very least spare a few minutes to his hygiene. He stripped down, gave himself a quick once over with a scrap of material and soapy water, then changed into fresh clothes. His hair was still a damp as he stepped out and into the darkness but he doubted it mattered.

He walked slowly towarss the heavy, bolted doors to the Maze. Behind them lay the unfathomable labyrinth that had held such mystery to these people for so long. He supposed he was going to see if the rumours and whispers were true. He wasn't the last to arrive, the portly man followed soon after him. Lee had taken a position leaning against the nearest wall, his sucken grey eyes staring at the beckoning doors and imagining the hell that could lay within. He deserved no less than damnation, he who squandered the life he was unworthy of. He could practically feel the time ticking down with each beat of his heart. 

The portly man - Bishop - was trying to stir conversation with them. Lee felt like cringing. He didn't want to hear any of this, he didn't want to be walking into another slaughter with friends. It was easier with strangers. He said nothing, instead pretending that he hadn't heard him.