[hider=Scenario #3]
[b]Scenario:[/b] [url=https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@41.899894,-88.0159046,238m/data=!3m1!1e3]East Sunset Avenue[/url]
[b]Scenario Type:[/b] Open
[b]Scenario Post Frequency: [/b] At least 1 per 48 hours, or I ask for GM’s approval on DayZing your char ‘n looting his/her stuff. 
[b]Max Players:[/b] 3
[b]Current Players:[/b] SyrianHamster, Dragonbud
[b]Loot Level:[/b] Moderate
[b]Walker Density:[/b] Heavy.
[b]Bandits:[/b] Possible.[/hider]

[hider=Hannah’s Group]
[b]Members:[/b] Hannah Banks, Camellia Morgan, [s]Woodrow Hepburn[/s], Oskar Rennold. 
[b]Weapon Pool:[/b] M14 (1 x 11), M4A1 CQCR (1 x 30), Winchester Model 70 (x20)
[b]Equipment Pool:[/b] Apache helmet, military radio, 2 x can of baked beans, box of stale bran flakes, map of Chicago, protein mix, car battery.
[b]Location:[/b]Escaping Sunset Avenue.[/hider]

Hannah ducked below the eager arms of a walker, and then came back up again to shove the hefty torso of a former food fan aside. The hungry crowd was thinning, as the group moved from its center mass, but every second was touch and go. 

Oskar followed her, carrying Camellia and using the fluctuating path of safety made by Hannah to get the both of them out of danger. From time to time he would look back at the girl to see if she was still with them; she had a limp in her movement, but she was still moving quick enough to be considered viable. 

The weight of the car battery, an M14 rifle, and a fully grown woman added up to one demanding payload. Oskar wished Woody was still with them more than ever, that old man could’ve carried the whole lot and then some without breaking a sweat. With every step he took, the former Polish national was starting to consider just giving up; he’d be pained for the rest of his life for leaving Camellia to her fate, but God damnit, he promised his wife he’d find her. He promised her as the barricades came down, and the National Guard started evacuating the facility. 

Family was everything to Oskar. He would gladly sacrifice his soul, his conscience and perhaps even his own sanity if it meant he could just find his. 

Hannah stopped running suddenly; something marvellous had stayed her need for haste. There was a church up ahead, one of those modern looking structures so common in the U.S. It was surrounded by low lying sandbag walls, and barbed wire – and a carpet of festering corpses were piled about the place. A couple of military trucks stood abandoned, and she could even make out an LMG at the church’s entrance still attached to its semi-permanent bipod. 

There was a sign, that had been hastily nailed to the church’s original message board.

[center][i]St. Timothy’s CDC Safe Zone[/i][/center]

Safe zones like these popped up all over the country following the outbreak. Most fell quickly, as the soldiers ran out of ammo, or abandoned them. Those who sought shelter in these zones more than often joined the ranks of the dead, and in hindsight, establishing them was possibly the U.S government’s greatest blunder. They were like fast food outlets for the ravaging hordes. 

What really caught Hannah’s attention, and why she had stopped however, was the HUMVEE parked lazily on the curb just outside the entrance. Military vehicles ranked high above their civilian counterparts; more often than not, they were designed to last. Provided it had gas, then it offered hope of a way out of this Hell hole. 

“Oskar, check that HUMVEE, see if she’s viable,” she snapped. 

“What will you do?” He asked, curious as to how she intended to hold off a horde of the dead by herself.

“I’ll play rear-guard, keep ‘em off you for as long as I can. If the thing is operational, then get that battery changed over. If not, head into the church and we’ll take our chances,” she said, slamming her last magazine into the base of her rifle. 

[b]Looking at the girl, Hannah nodded, “go with him, and do what you can to help. Maybe give that church a quick once over, make sure it’s safe enough for us to fall back into.”[/b]