Ginger held the rusted machete close, breathing heavily. Most of the people in their small group have already gathered what supplies they needed. Ginger had hogged the most, shoving a ton of things into his backpack that was starting to feel heavier by the second. The decaying undead gathered to the front of the storage facility, and it seemed they would eventually wear us down. Ginger neared Don, eyeing him suspiciously like he does with most people. "I'm sure we can find a back door, jumping down from the second floor doesn't seem like a good idea." Ginger said, passing by Don to get to Jack. The zombies seemed to go after whatever they laid their eyes on first. Ginger swung the machete, wincing as he heard the sickening crunch when it made contact with the skull.