The world is burning, the dead rise back to life with an undying and unending hunger. They feel no emotion, no sympathy, no pain, for those that they take, only taste and sound of raw flesh satisfies their never-ending carve. The who are alive in inhabiting the world the ones who all sought out a life of lavish lifestyles or those who simply wanted the experience of raising family to call their own are all running and constantly moving for their lives. Others have managed to keep a foothold held within a secure areas working together to fight and live another day, to hope for a another chance from mother nature's wrath, but then there are others, the oppressors, who want nothing but to fee the pleasure and pain of others without any form of restriction or law to stand in their way. The chance at having their own rules or ways established. New York is now apart of it, swallowed hole, becoming a place of terror and fear for those that still live within it's boundaries. It's a kill or be killed world now. . .

The cold room within the fourth floor of a ransacked apartment building was getting colder and colder by the minute due to the time of winter rolling around and soon the city would be in a blanket of white snow. Adrian found this as good thing though, the snow, it was basically another form of water. He could use it as new water source by boiling the pile of snow in a pot filtering out the bacteria in it then save the rest he that didn't drink for later inside some spare water bottles, some to keep him decently clean and some to keep himself hydrated. "Better then trying to find unopened bottles of water or filter out that. . . sewer water." He said to himself as he threw another piece of furniture under the makeshift fire, keeping it low though to prevent from being spotted by anything outside.

As he kept stoking the fire, the sound of heavy thudding footfalls began to echo outside the the lone apartment he was camped in. He reached for his crowbar to the left of him then slowly and quietly moved towards the door. He pressed him self against it and looked through the peephole. Two walkers, as he refereed the dead to, were sluggishly roaming the halls unaware to his presence. He moved his hand down towards the locks to double check that they were locked, to which they were, but just for extra measure he backed away from the door, picked up a wooden chair and placed it under the doorknob at an angle to stop from anything coming in. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would give him enough to hurry and escape through the fire escape that lead down into an alley.

"This is getting to be too much." He let out an exhausted yawn and moved back over to his makeshift cot near his fire. "Tomorrow will be another day, I'll find a way." he spoke out again. His last thoughts, before letting sleep take him, was if his father was alive and in good health.

Blinking the sleep from his crusty eyes, Anthony "Paladin" Henderson woke from his slumber underneath a wrecked car. He had been lucky the previous night, the wreckage he found was nearly completely closed off except for a tight hole at the top. As well, the pile up had occurred over a sewer grate that he could use to bypass the zombies on the surface. He could hear the rhythmic stomping of the undead around him, a constant reminder of what he had lost and the hell he was in. Rising to a sitting position, he began taking check of his gear. After finishing that, he pulled out a cam of spam and began shoveling the pink meat into his mouth. After eating breakfast he gathered his things and went down the sewer, closing the grate above him.

Down in the sewers, Anthony could smell the familiar rancid odor of sewage and rot. He had spent the first week of the end navigating the sewers, following a military convoy. He had found many supplies that had been left behind by the rapidly moving group of soldiers. Pulling out his flashlight, Anthony began making his way through the labyrinth of pathways and pipes. He made it roughly 300 feet when he heard the loud crash behind him. Quickly shutting off his light, the man hid himself in the darkness, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

"Looks like we've caught ourselves some fresh meat, boys!"

Bobby could hear the leading marauder (whom he gathered was referred to as "Truffles") call to his men, followed by their insane cackling. At least five of them in total, Bobby thought to himself. But he certainly didn't stop to think it out clearly. For all he knew, there could have been far more than half a dozen; all the more reason to keep sprinting.

First his "home", and now it seems the vast majority of the sewers; his only haven for survival. Much to his dismay, it was dawning on Bobby that he would soon have to find his way out into The Light. It has been a little less than a month since he has even seen the sun, and he was more than aware that his lack of knowledge of The Overground would very likely lead to his own death. He was growing so, very tired. Of everything. Why am I even running?, the thought crossed the boy's mind. Would I rather be skinned alive, or eaten alive?

Nonetheless, his instincts kicked in. He was brought to a familiar crossroad, with three adjunct sewer tunnels: left, right, and straight ahead. He knew they all lead to dead-ends; and their cackling was growing closer. Bobby chose the right, but not before shooting off a few bang snaps down the left corridor. Bobby was out of view just before Truffles and his gang rounded the corner, and found themselves rushing to the left tunnel; before Truffles halted them. He sniffed out his surroundings for a moment, and gave a sinister, hungry grin. "Barbs, bring three of you left. The rest of you, come with me," as he guided the rest of the entourage down Bobby's path...

Anthony heard and smelled the raiders before he saw it, and the name that was thrown around chilled his blood. "Truffles wants that boy dead, ya know that Shitake" one voice cut through the darkness, high and reedy. "Yah, I know that Toadstool," a deeper, rougher voice resounded through the sewer,"but ya know i like the screams of the young ones." Anthony began palming his pistol in one hand, and bringing his flashlight to bear towards the voices. He could make out the outline of the two figures walking towards him. Taking a deep breath, Anthony turned on the heavy duty flashlight at the two figures.

The two raiders recoiled in surprise, and Anthony responded by performing a Mozampique drill on the large one on the right. As he was bearing on towards the other raider when a round grazed his shoulder, throwing his aim off. One round hit the front raider in the shoulder, knocking him down, but now Anthony could see two other raiders behind the downed one. One was armed with a roughed up Glock pointed at him, and the other carried a rusty shiv and charged him. In response, Anthony responded with something that would have made the American education system proud. "Oh. Fuck. Me." He yelled as he backpedaled from the raider, "Fuck me sideways!"

Even to his own surprise, Bobby managed to sprint all the way to the end of the right sewage tunnel, despite his now complete drain of energy. And yet, his pursuers seemed to have an endless intensity when it came to hunting the living, if not evident by their manic screams. Being prepared for such an occasion, Bobby pushed himself snugly into a tight corner of missing bricks. He blended in quite nicely with the walls, a large part in thanks to his since darkened-with-waste rags with which he has called his "outfit."

Truffles and the rest of his group, four of them total, found themselves at the dead end as well; but still unknowing of Bobby's little cove in the walls. Much to Bobby's worry, one of the members responded with screaming and flailing about maniacally, as if the false promise of a fresh kill would bring him to insanity (as if the whole lot of them weren't crazed enough). Truffles ends this quickly with an efficient SLAP! against his henchmen's face, using the back of his own palm.

"Quiet down, you little shit! Better pray we find this kid, else we'll be cooking you for the buffet." The manic henchmen whimpered like a dog, knowing his place full well. Shortly after, the sound of gunfire echoed down the tunnel, bringing them to full attention. A man's voice could be heard faintly, echoing down: "Fuck me sideways, sideways, sideways..."

The four of them stood silently for a moment, before Truffles laughs and shimmies about giddily. "Shit boys, looks like we got ourselves some dessert as well!" He runs back down the tunnel, heading towards the screams of his allies, with his entourage hollering closely behind. Bobby lets out a long exhale of relief as they scurry off. He takes himself out of his hiding hole, and slowly, follows his pursuers path, eager for an opportunity to make an exit back from whence he came without them gaining even the slightest hint.

When the raider charge forward, swinging his shank at Anthony's head. However, the former marine blocked it with his flashlight, before shoulder checking the raider into a pipe hard enough to crack the metal. As the madman was stunned, Anthony quickly turned him around and wrapped his arm around the raider's neck. Fortunately he was quick enough to block three bullets with the man's body. As the raider breathed his last breaths, a group of four more raiders came bounding down the pathway. Anthony quickly fired a single shot at the the raider in front of him, catching the raider in the neck.

The four remaining raiders were only 50 ft away, and Anthony began blasting at the tightly packed group. After killing two of the raiders the other two began dodging around, and Anthony only had 4 shots in his clip. When the former marine saw the oppurtunity he emptied the clip into the foremost raider. The final raider stopped ten feet away from Anthony and snarled at him, drawing a machete.

Holstering his pistol, Anthony began inching his knife out of its scabberd. "So, who are you?" Anthony asked in a parched voice. the raider continued to snarl and began crouching slightly. Seeing what the raider was planning, Anthony quickly prepared himself to heave the corpse at the raider.

"So, who are you?" Was all Bobby was able to make from the enveloping skirmish, hearing the few extra rounds of gunfire that encased the sewers shortly beforehand. Sure would be great to know before the rest of the Undead knew, was all Bobby couldn't help but think to himself. All the while, Bobby had a sharp, hefty pebble aimed squarely at the back of Truffle's head with his slingshot.

He fired. Even if he made contact, he still had an unknown loudmouth to resolve issues with...

Hunter walked the halls of his apartment building, he hasn't left it since it all started, he could find everything he needed inside it. Everything from Food, Water, Guns, Sometimes meds. Though he was running low on bullets again, Plus half the dead in the building where in the halls and the main lobby, the rest were still in their rooms. But every day he would go floor to floor searching room after room for supplies. Some days if he had enough to spare he'd search a room a second time to make sure he found what ever he needed.

He was on the 10 floor of the apartment building today, He had his shotgun in hand and he was going to check out a apartment with a NRA Sticker on the door. "Lets see what we have here." It took a small screw driver, lots of pins and just beating the shit out of the lock to get it open. He walked inside with the shotgun raised. "Hello? Anyone home?" He heard a sharp screech from down the hall. "Runner..." He spoke under his breath. He aimed the shotgun at the door, Fighting a runner hand to hand was not much of an option. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the resident walk up to his side, He had enough time to turn to only put the shotgun between him and the apartment owner. Then as they both went to the ground the runner stopped in front of the door and turned. "Shit..." He had just enough time to pull the trigger on the shotgun to take the leg of the runner clean off. "BLAM!"

The Runner was still alive but now it had to crawl to get to him, He pulled up the strength to push of the resident with the stock of the gun and stand. When the resident came back after him he received a bullet to the face from the 1911. In that same moment he turned the handgun to the crippled runner firing three shots dropping it dead. He heard the moans on the dead in the halls, The NRA would have to wait for another day. He ran out and back to the fire stair well going down to the third floor, where his apartment lay.

James Morgan

James was sat on an old decrepit sofa in some dark forgotten apartment, the winter chill finding its way through every crack and nook to make the place even more unpleasant. As a result he found himself slumped forwards with his arms tucked in to keep his body slightly warmer. He was nursing a cigarette that seemed to give him little relief; other than the odd night out he wasn’t really a smoker, but he’d found the pack the previous day and at this moment in time thought ’fuck it, why not?’ At this rate the winter nights would soon reach a point where he’d end up freezing to death anyway, so why worry about a little lung damage? With each inhale he felt slightly warmer and a bit more relaxed, at least until he began to choke on fucking thing.

"KHOFF KHOFF KHAK KHAK KHAK KHAK!"

The short spurt of coughing was enough to make his eyes water, and he threw the cigarette a measly foot away in defiance. Only when he finally caught his breathe and recovered from the ordeal did he hear the sounds of groaning from the landing that connected the multiple apartments. ‘The sound of my coughing must have attracted the buggers’ he thought to himself as he quickly picked up his shield and machete. The NYPD riot shield was still in good shape, with no cracks, and only had a slight tinge of red to it (for he regularly tried to clean off any mess that he could). He always held it on his left arm, leaving his dominant right free to hold the machete and deliver some strong thrusts. He approached the door quickly and putting his shoulder up against it for reinforcement, he took a peek through the spy hole. Just the one walker. With a sweeping of his foot, James brushed aside the broken glass that lined up the bottom of the door; he always used crushed up light bulbs in front of doors so that it was harder for anyone to sneak in. Then, after unbolting the door, he quickly whipped it open and met his foe. The zombie lurched forward mindlessly but was held back by James’ shield. James proceeded to push the zombie back and pinned it against a wall before quickly ending it with a quick decisive stab through the eye. Keeping the shield pressed against the zombie he gently lowered the corpse to the floor as to avoid a loud thump. “Just another day” he whispered under his breath before heading back into the lonely darkness of the apartment.

As Anthony prepared himself for the confrontation with the insane cannibal in front of him, he saw a faint outline apppear in the shadows a few feet behind the raider. The unknown figure shifted slightly, and Anthony could make out a sling being drawn. Still gripping onto the corpse as a shield, Anthony could barely hide his smile. "Wat the hell you smirkin' at huh?" The raider asked, "Don't you know that you're gonna die soon?" In response, Anthony merely rolled his eyes, and watched as the small figure let loose a whistling stone at the raider's head.

The raider, though insane, was lucid enough to turn around turn around toward the sound, and only caught the stone on his jaw instead of his eye. Anthony took that chance, and charged the insane man after tossing the corpse to the side. The raider was still reeling from the strike, and only put up minimal resistance as Anthony sunk his knife into the man's throat, and lead the soon to be corpse to the ground. Pulling out the blade, he wiped the blood of on the dying man's clothes. After kicking the dead raider a few times in the head, he nodded his thanks towards his benefactor, he then began rummaging through the corpses.

The stone connected, but Truffles managed to turn just in time, preventing the blunt projectile from splitting into the back of his skull; knocking out a few teeth, instead. This was only a temporary fallback, though, as the mysterious figure behind him took the opportunity to finish the job.

It was a pretty gruesome sight for Bobby, getting a full view as Truffles turned just enough to let Bobby see a bit of blood squirt out from his neck. But even worse were his eyes: blood red, crazed, and looking at Bobby with malicious intent. He attempted an angry slur of final words, but it just resulted in a pitiful gurgling as the other fellow lent him down to the ground.

The man, at this point having his clothes covered with splatterings of blood, would have looked just as menacing if it weren't for a less crazed face; only marginally so, but that was all you could really ask for in this new world. At the least, it was enough for Bobby to get the hint he wasn't going to attack him (for the time being) giving an approving nod before scavenging the bodies.

Bobby gave an uncomfortable nod back, not really sure what else to do, still a little phased from Truffle's death and the bodies littered around him. He was still weighing out his options. Should he just take what he can and run off before this guy gets any ulterior ideas for him, just like all the others? Or could Bobby have some use for him? In any case, he knew sticking around here wasn't an option.

"You're going to want to finish up with that. That was a... uh. Loud entrance."

Hunter walked into his apartment room like it was any normal day. He cleared the floor as best as he could just so he could do that. Took him over 3 weeks to make sure it was clear and another 2 weeks to find where they kept getting in from. Now the only way on the floor is the elevator which is now powered by a home made generator, and the emergency stairwell. The generator isn't used much though. Unfortunately it's powered using an old bike and a few batteries, So this job takes a good long while to get enough power to run an elevator.

He walked into his apartment and placed the shotgun on top of the dresser, he kicked off his shoes and threw odd his hat onto the kitchen counter. He grabbed himself a beer from the fridge (Currently lacking power and just used to keep drinks separate) then he went and sat on the chip bag covered couch. The food he found in the building was always random, which was fine with him but he was once force to eat nothing but Doritos for a week because he had a large supply of them and no luck finding food. Why did so many people have so many Doritos?!

His feet started turning some peddles at his feet and he turned on the TV, He was living a life of luxury considering the events going on. Then his head ache came back, he was out of Excedrin, or anything else for head aches. All he had was prescription pain killers for hips or something. He had no idea where to find medicine though, that was normally the first thing he grabbed in case someone else was searching the apartments as well. TO find medicine he would need to leave the apartment building.

He looked out onto the street and saw dozens of dead just outside his building, and hundreds if not thousands spread out over the streets. "...Dammit." He knew this day would come when he would have to leave the safety of his building.

Now that Anthony was close enough, he could see that the figure was nothing more than a pale, young, boy. "Wonder how many days it's been since he's seen the sun." The older man mused as he found more ammunition for his gun, and not much else. "You're going to want to finish up with that. That was a... uh. Loud entrance." the boy said. Anthony looked the boy in the eyes and saw how hard they were, and shook his head to himself sighing. He reloaded his pistol, and raised an eyebrow at the young boy. "So, coming or not?" Anthony asked, "Cause looking at you, I think you could use a partner."

"So, coming or not?" Anthony asked, "Cause looking at you, I think you could use a partner."

The man reloaded his pistol, and he was making Bobby exceedingly nervous. He seemed to have no regard for how much noise he's been making, or how such noise attracted the raiders in droves, having just as much of a death wish as their friends. And even more concerning was how nonchalant the man was at having killed several people... crazed or not. Was the Overground truly so awful as to turn people as such?

Or was this guy even more insane than he presumed? He seemed to have a good handle of protecting himself, but for all he knew he'd use him as bait or start banging pots and pans together like a madman, as all evidence was starting to lead. But Bobby knew he would have to make the upward journey sooner rather than later, and this was probably his best ticket.

Only now did Bobby realize he was musing silently to himself, leaving the man staring at him impatiently. "I, uhh... okay. But one condition." In the time of half a second, Bobby released a rock in the direction of one of the corpses ten feet away, leaving a large indent in his skull. Bobby points at his craftiwork. "I have a no touch policy. ALSO! I'm a, uh... black belt in Tai Kwon Do. So. Yeah. Watch yourself."

The air was crisp, the sky clouded. However, the late fall chill was not the only thing that filled the air as Petra Novak sat perched on the rooftop of her apartment building. The groans and howls of the undead flouted upward from the streets and reached her ears on the rooftop. She had been camped out there for the majority of the time after the outbreak. After fleeing from her apartment with whatever supplies she could gather, she raced up to the rooftop, baracading the door shut. On occasion, when food resources were in the red, Petra would unblock the door and reenter the apartment building to scavenge before returning to the rooftop. However, as time went on, more and more people were turning and the weather grew colder and colder. Both the rooftop and the inside of the apartment building were becoming eliminated options for Petra. She knew she had to move soon - she just didn't know where.

This would be the last day she could scavenge through the building. Every time she went in, there seemed to be more walkers and she constantly ran the risk of raiders or residents of the building being less than hospitable when she barged in their door. This was the last time.

As Petra entered the building, she had her fire axe at the ready. She cursed the fact that she didn't have a firearm - she could never seem to come across them and after leaving her old life behind, she vowed never to own one herself. But times had surely changed since then. Slowly, Petra stalked through the hallways, flattening herself against the wall whenever she heard the groan of a walker or the creak of the floor boards. As she gingerly made her way across the top floor, the sound of gun shots from the floor below her caused her to jump. It had been a while since she had heard gun shots in the building. She cringed at the thought, knowing it would sturr up the walkers. She picked up her pace now as she made her way to the stair well and onto the next floor.

"I have a no touch policy. I'm also a black belt in Tai Kwon Do." the kid said. Anthony scoffed and replied while holstering his pistol, "Fine, and if you're a black belt, then I'm the former president." Then, looking down at his blood drenched clothes, he groaned and facepalmed himself realized why the boy looked at him weirdly. "Shit, guess I look like a psycho huh?" After scanning the area quickly Anthony continued to speak while scratching at the bush of a beard on his face, "Hey kid, we should move soon, don't think these bastards were alone." Then he flashed a grin at the boy, hoping it seemed reassuring since he flushed his mouth with warm water every few days. "My names Anthony, but you can just call me Tony."

"My name's Anthony, but you can just call me Tony." Tony grinned at Bobby, but it was only having the opposite effect than his intentions, looking even more manic while being still covered in blood. Damn straight you look like a psycho... Bobby thought.

"My name's Bobby." His ears perked up at the small but numerous pitter patters of flighty footfalls, alongside faint hollering. Still distant, but there nonetheless. "And actually, we have to move, like. Uh. Now."

The smell of smoke and fire was thick and heavy in the air. The screams of men, woman and even children resonated throughout the pillage and chaos. People were scrambling and trampling over each other past the military blockade setup in the middle of Times Square. The soldiers armed to the teeth, began setting themselves in formation behind a concrete barrier with their guns fixed on the thousands of walkers moving towards them in a slowly trudged pace. Adrian was rushing out of a clothing store with his blue travel bag, but stopped and watched the horror that unfolded. "You fire on my command and my command only!" shouted a high ranking officer. The line of thirty foot soldiers, ten Heavy Turret Guns and three mortars behind the barriers had their sights fixed on walkers coming at them.

The commander raised his and in the air ready to signal the order as they were now less then a hundred feet from them. "Sir! they are getting to close sir!" shouted one solider. "Hold that trigger finger solider!" retorted the commanding officer. They were less then 60 feet from the barriers and some of the soldiers began to fidget. "Sir, give the order!" shouted one of the Humvee gunners, "Keep those fingers dry! Do not fire unless I say!" He bellowed to the troops with anger as the dead now were forty feet away. Adrian decided to do something rather then have them all die a meaningless death, he got closer to the line, huddling down next to an occupied Humvee and shouted the command himself. "Fire!" As soon as he said it, he started running, not wanting to be around the carnage that was ensuing, but the commanding infuriated he looked behind his defensive line and spotted Adrian running from the area. The commander then pulled out his handgun and turned firing off two shoots at him...

He awoke gasping for air. A cold sheen of sweat formed over his head as his heart beat against his chest like a race horse. He sat up in a hurry and snatched up his bag rummaging for his phone due to the low fire having died down some while he was slept. Once found he turned the device on and found that it was only 12:56am, he had been asleep for only about an hour and a half. He turned his phone back off letting out an agitated breath. 'It wasn't my fault... they all would've senselessly died if I hadn't said it!' He reached at his shoulder and lightly touched at the covered bullet wound that hit him.

He shook his head and placed his phone back inside the bag as he then took out the only clean towel he managed to find, inside the small apartment, then wiped off the sweat that had accumulated over his face. As he put the towel itself back inside the bag he stood back up to his feet and placed on his body gear, he didn't to place on the rest as a result of him never sleeping without the shin guards or arm guards on, as it nearly cost him his life when a hugely tall, walker managed to nearly reach him. His first initial outbreak weeks, he stayed in some high placed scaffolding in an alleyway as it nearly bit his limply hanging arm when he was sleeping.

He put out the makeshift fire of furniture, grabbing his crowbar and bag as well, then he silently removed the wooden chair. Peeking outside the hall to make sure it was clear to which his relief it was, then proceeded out the door to see if he could find a suitable and secure place to hold up for more than just a few days. The raiders had been scavenging and searching areas more often lately then he'd usually see and once they came, the dead were usually not that far from them, he didn't want to be around if both parties ended up coming around.

The chill in the air was accented by what seemed like dissatisfying groans from the undead that ambled the street in front of the townhouse. Aurora watched from the second story window, the small opening in the bathroom gave her view of the disarray that was the street below. Charred, flipped cars lined the street accented by burned out townhouses as a background. These places had been a prime targets for Raiders and fallen out military because of the valuables and larger food supplies. More than a few times she had to hide with baited breath in the attic, until she sealed up the first floor door and broke out the stairs to the second story. That solved problems for a time but many of the undead from the center of the city had been spilling into her streets lately. Too many to quietly pick off and retrieve her arrows back. It was becoming a worry for her, she didn’t like the feel of it especially with winter setting in. She needed to get out of the city, but she needed local help. Or a working GPS.

There were too many of them on the streets today, if she were going to get any birds from her roof traps up the road she would have to take the roof tops. This was not something that she didn’t want to do in the chill either, it could be dangerous when her fingertips got cold. Damn anemia.

Checking her food stocks she dug into a can of salmon, it was one of the last jars of her fresh caught fish. Aurora wondered how people back home in Alaska were faring against the onslaught. She imagined that the -40 would definitely slow down the monsters, it would be easier up there hiding away in the wilderness much less population to be turned.

Climbing into the layers of blankets of the near by bed she contemplated leaving the relative comfort of her hiding place and heading into the unforgiving waste that was the sprawling city. “Too many risks, but I can’t sit tight forever. I wish I had been in Argentina, or home.” Pulling the blankets tightly against herself Aurora drifted off into a light sleep.

Hunter walked into the emergency stairwell, the only stairwell he hasn't barricaded that still leads to the ground floor, the rest he sealed as soon as he could. Had a great idea to secure the building, that ended in about 12 shotgun shells, then about 8 more, then a grown man crying behind a closed door. So that plan ended. He walked to the bottom of the stairwell, it was repetitively clear, the infected seemed to not enter into it much.

When he got to the ground floor he looked into the parking lot, He saw his truck only a few spaces down from the exit. Though in that few spaces was at least 3 infected, then maybe 4 more the other way, and at least 20-30 in the immediate parking lot.

He gained the guts to open the door, He pushed into it with all his might, then it didn't open. *This is an emergency door?! WHY WONT IT OPEN?!* He thought. Then he looked under the door window, a corpse lay leaning against the door, a big one at that. "Well crap... Now I need a plan B."