Day 35 of The Outbreak
Morning - 11:00 AM
Weather - Cloudy
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It has been 35 days since the Epidemic started. That's what people have been referring to it as. 35 days since the Virus struck the world, tearing it apart faster than anyone had ever wondered, or thought it had the potential to. Most people don't like to refer to the undead as "Zombies." Most will say "Walkers" or "Biters." "Geeks." Anything to avoid that Z-Word. Most of the city's population is dead. Or undead. Military, Police, and anyone who was expected to protect the survivors, are now all gone. Focusing in on Pittssburgh, Pennsylvania, some survivors have managed to stay alive with rough survival skills, and genuine luck. Supplies, after a month's time, are running low. It is time to go and search for what we need. Focusing in even closer, a young survivor stands alone at the top of an apartment building.

Jason Crowley, 22, wakes up in his sleeping bag on the roof of an apartment building, with the only door into the building chained shut. Looking up at the cloudy, foggy sky, he wonders if they're clouds, or smoke from fires, or bombings of other cities. Getting up out of his sleeping bag, Jason looks over the edge of the building. Streets, filled with Walkers, and destroyed vehicles. Police Barricades knocked over, and quarantine zones torn through. The river, full of bloated corpses and walkers that tried to end their own lives before they had a chance to turn. Too bad it doesn't work that way. The city is a dangerous place, and sometimes, you have to go into that urban jungle to gather the basic supplies.

Jason opens up his backpack, looking at his inventory. He takes out a bag of graham crackers, with only about 5 left in the bag, broken, mainly crumbs. "Fuck." He mumbles to himself. He takes out a water bottle and holds it up to the light. You know when you look in a water bottle and there isn't really anything in there, but it has enough to cover the bottom little ring of the bottle? That's what this bottle has in it. He grabs his back pack and throws it on his back. He grabs his shotgun from beside his sleeping bag, and puts in in his little home-made satchel on the side of his pack, just in reach. He picks up the fire-axe from the apartment hallway, and goes to the fire escape on the edge of the roof. Slowly and carefully, Jason climbs down the fire escape.

"Well, here I go. Down into the city. Son of a bitch." He says, climbing down, into the alleyway, which is completely devoid of Walkers for some reason. He walks to the near end of the alleyway, and hides behind a dumpster, looking into the streets. "There has got to be a way to do this without dying..." He sighs under his breath.

"Come at me, suckers!"

The scream echoed down the street, catching the attention of the undead roaming slowly around and bumping against the discarded cars. Sam raised her axe in the air, a wide grin on her face, as she watched a small horde run towards her. In her peripheral, she saw the two ratty kids she met the night prior slowly inching their way out of the little hidey hole they'd made to pass the evening. With a nod to them, Sam began to run and drew the biters' attention away from the poor rascals.

The groaning of the horde racing towards her began to draw out even more biters, some of them crashing through the glass windows of the nearby shops and tearing at their rotting skin (if Sam had a weaker constitution, she would have vomitted right then and there). The couple of days she'd spent roaming the streets gave her enough of a visual map to know which path she should take to head back to the bank she began to call her base. Just a few more blocks and then turn into the alleyway to climb the fire escape of some apartment building...

Only, as she skidded to a slight stop in order to turn the corner, she hadn't expected for some poor fool to be screaming as he got cornered by half a dozen biters. With her own horde and the group blocking her path, Sam only gave the man a small smile before hightailing it in another direction and ignoring the screams for help.

Her axe swung around to meet the skulls of any biters that got too close, blood and muck spraying onto her face and clothes. She made sure to close her mouth and turn her head enough to shield her eyes but still keep an eye on the biters. A quick check over the wound on her left leg (one that she'd done a pretty good job bandaging up) was still free from the disgusting bodily fluids of the biters. If only she could say the same for the clothes she was currently wearing. With a frown of distaste, she continued running and kept an eye out in case some clods had been doing laundry when the epidemic began.

Five more blocks and Sam could feel herself getting more tired. The horde behind her seemed to be slowing down, losing interest in her and investigating some other sound instead. She breathed a sigh of relief and ran into the first alley she saw. It was empty, save for trash that littered the ground and a filled dumpster. She took one last peek at the street and when she was sure that none of the biters followed her, she slung the axe over her shoulder while keeping a good grip on it. She looked around and grinned when she noticed something behind the dumpster.

She walked over to the person - a young man - and leaned against the dumpster. "Hey there, fella. You know how to get to the bank from here?" She probably shouldn't have mentioned her destination, but it didn't seem like he would try to rob her. And if he did, well... Her grip on her axe tightened.

She grinned down at him. "Unless you've been behind this dumpster since this crap began?"

Kyle Moore
35 days after the Outbreak
11:00 AM

The sound of a knife and fork clattering rang out in the small, neat bedroom of Kyle Moore. The plate was licked completely clean, the teen not wanting to waste any of his food; Out of necessity and also out of remembrance. "Don't leave anything on the plate, Kyle. Wasted food is wasted money." His father had told him many years ago.

He'd taken to his daily routine again (outside kf talking to his mother and going to school). It kept him sane, trying to act normal. He kept the house clean, read books, cooked food...

He didn't think about her absence much. She'd come back, when this mess was over and everyone was saved. And if she didn't, he'd find her.

But even if he was hopeful, Kyle knew his supplies wouldn't last forever. After snapping out of his reverie, he had walked down the stairs, the windows covered by curtains (and where there were no curtains, he used shower robes,) and stepped into the kitchen.

He'd eaten the last of his supplies today. That meant he finally had to go out. He'd dreaded the day that this would happen, but it'd come eventually. No amounts of hopeful thinking was going to stall it. After washing the dishes and cutlery and brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink, he slung his pouch over his shoulder and picked up the rusty shovel near the door.

After checking the doors windows, Kyle stepped out. And the sight that greeted him scared him more than the creatures did.

A desolate street, with blood on the sidewalks and a kicked over garbage can. Other than those details, and some broken windows, everything looked...Normal. It both comforted and terrified him.

A gentle breeze passed by him, unhindered by the destruction and pushed Kyle out of his stupor. He gripped his shovel tighter and started walking to a nearby convenience store.

Jason Crowley
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Jason looks up from his little behind-a-dumpster spot. "No, no. I just got here." He looks up at her face for a minute. This is the first live person he's made contact with since this began. She seems like she might be a bit out of it, smiling down at him during the end of the world. He holds up his similar, bloody fire-axe. "Nice choice, anyway." He stands up to be on her level. "And uh, no, I haven't been down here since this started. I've been barricaded into an apartment building. I'm off to search for supplies."

Jason looks quickly out into the streets at the shuffling biters. He then takes a look back at the girl with the axe. "Yeah. I can get you to the bank. But I expect something in return. Give-a-little Get-a-little doesn't seem too crazy in this world now, does it?" He asks her. He still wasn't fully trusting her, and knew she wasn't fully trusting him either. He knew that if she swings at him, he could back up, and go for his shotgun in his backpack's side pouch, pretty quickly. But he didn't think he would need to. Jason won't need to feel 100% on guard, until he gets her where she needs to be. Then he should watch his back.

Abel O'Connell
11:08 AM

Abel awoke slowly, the feeling of his aching back immediately hitting him. He groaned, stretching his arms above his head and his legs out as he yawned heavily and for a minute entertained the idea of going back to sleep. His stomach rumbled loudly and he was hit with sudden pangs of hunger, his body's way of telling him going back to sleep was not a smart move. He only had two tins of food left. One, after he ate the pork and beans in a few minutes. He had to go back out there, today was the last day he would have a choice in the matter and it was always a bad idea to wait until you were out of choices.

With that thought in his mind he sat up, groaning once again and massaging the back of his neck, trying to rub some of the stiffness out of it. He wasn't sure what time it was but there was some light coming in through the dirty warehouse windows. He looked around like he did every morning and once again wondered what this place had been used for in the past. It seemed abandoned, disused. The various shelves were all bare. He had used a few empty cardboard boxes around the place to make himself a bed, though it had been pretty damn uncomfortable. It reminded him of prison, spend a couple of weeks sleeping on it and you felt like you'd aged ten years.

He looked down towards the side of his makeshift bed. There lay his bag, his handgun and his blade, out of it's sheathe. He was paranoid one of the Gob's would find their way in without him hearing and try to tear into him. It was sheer paranoia, the vehicle entrance into the warehouse was padlocked when he got there and he had locked the only other entrance with a decent quality one he had stolen himself. He reached over and pulled his bag towards him, going inside it and taking out the tin of pork and beans. Picking up his blade he slid it under the tab and lifted it slightly before pulling the top off using his fingers and placing the knife back into it's sheathe. He 'ate' from the tin as if he were trying to down a drink that was being difficult about it, frustrated with himself for not thinking to grab a damn spoon whilst he was out there but still unwilling to go into the mess with his fingers. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to wash his hands.

A frustrating amount of time later the tin was empty. He made a mental note to beat his own ass if he didn't remember to get a damn spoon from somewhere today, and maybe some washing up liquid. The last thing he needed was to get sick. He searched what he assumed used to be the warehouse's office for a few minutes looking for a pencil and paper, hoping to write a list, or even just a pen so he could write on his skin, but the place was empty. He was surprised they left a damn desk. He tried to make a mental note instead, in the order of importance.

Food
Water
Sleeping Bag
Ammo
Spoon, or preferably a Spork

He'd never had the greatest memory, but hoped his current situation would give him the motivation to remember. With his preparation over and done with he went back to his corner of the warehouse and retrieved his weapons. Putting his belt on first with his blade's sheathe attached and tucking his handgun into the belt near his midsection. He slid his leather jacket on, grabbed his courier bag and picked up his knife. He was ready. He hoped he'd live to get back to this shithole.

Unlocking the padlock on the warehouse's front entrance he pulled the door open and stepped outside, using his hand to block the light whilst his eyes adjusted. Luckily for him it seemed rather cloudy so his eyes didn't need to adjust too much, although staying in the relative darkness of the warehouse for the last... He didn't know had certainly done a bit of a number on him. He looked up and down the street. Deserted. He guessed when the shit hit the fan very few people thought to run towards the warehouse district. Luckily for him, he imagined. Where he had to head towards now however was where there were likely to be people, both the living and Gob's. He wasn't too excited about seeing either. History repeated itself because human behavior repeated itself, and history told him people became monsters when put into situations with this much fear and desperation. He hoped the change hadn't already happened in most people.

With his mind full of thoughts he walked down the street with his knife in his hand, trying to be as observant as he could and push the intruding thoughts to the side. He entered the first alley heading the way he wanted to go, hoping there was less chance of running into anything down them than on the main streets. Right or wrong, he still ran into one of the fucking things. Blood all around it, mostly dry. It was eating... He didn't want to know what, he saw enough to see it was a gory mess of flesh and exposed bone and that's all he wanted to see. The thing, sensed, or probably heard him breathing, it turned slowly, rising to it's feel and letting out a noise that Abel had never heard from any human being. He gripped his knife tighter, unable to look away from the mess that used to be a man's face. It was gaunt and rotted, the flesh around it's left eye socket had rotted away and the eye had gone with it.

The Gob shuffled forward, making that horrible noise all the while. Abel tried to steady his breathing and get into something of a fighting stance, putting some weight on his back foot so he wouldn't be knocked down by any small amount of force. As it came within arms-reach Abel set his eyes once again on it's disgusting left eye socket, intending that as his target he thrust his blade forward, the knife going straight through like butter but exiting out of the thing's temple. He yanked the blade out, causing the wound to become even more gaping and hideous, if that were at all possible. The thing was close enough to attack now and seemed to lunge at him. He moved quickly, but the thing still barreled into his left shoulder as he sidestepped to the right, leaving a gross sheen of something on his jacket. As the thing went past him, he spun with it and let out a grunt of effort as he once again shot his blade towards the things face, the steel entering in the middle of where it's eyebrows used to be. At first it didn't even seem to notice, but as Abel twisted and pulled his blade in a panic the thing suddenly went limp and fell to the ground motionless.

He took a couple of steps back from the corpse, afraid that it would start making that horrific noise and stand again. After about a minute he was confident it was dead, and the how seemed pretty obvious. Brain injury. Maiming, even it's eye socket and temple didn't seem to do anything and Abel had already seen one not react to multiple rounds put into it's chest during the riots. He would need to become better with his blade, if there had been two of them he had no doubt he'd be dead if he wasn't smart enough to choose to run. Leaning down and wiping his gore covered blade on the things shirt he examined his body. It was rotten, with mortal wounds on it's stomach, chest and head. There was no denying it, the thing had been a moving dead person. It was crazy, but it was. His breathing still heavy he continued his walk through the back alleys, eventually remembering the horrible sheen the thing had left on his jacket. He stopped, looking down at it. Don't ask him why but he chose to sniff. He gagged, barely containing the urge to vomit before breaking out into a coughing fit.

Sam couldn't help but grin with pride when the young man complimented her choice of weapons. She had definitely gotten a lot out of the little fella. Plenty of skulls had been cut open and it had proven a useful companion whenever she ran out to get supplies. She much preferred it over guns, which she'd always seen as tacky and boring. Whoever this fella was, if he was sporting the same weapon as her then he definitely had great tastes and was alright in her book.

When he brought up the subject of some sort of recompense for his possible services as an escort back to the bank, she only smiled. Quid pro quo - it was something she was more than familiar with, even before this mess started. People never gave anything for free; there's always something you've got to give. Fortunately, Sam was well aware on how to traverse these kind of situations. "No prob, Bob. Didn't you say you were heading out for supplies? I still have some to share over at the bank." She finished off her offer with a grin, which only slightly faltered when she still felt the distrust radiating off him like the biter's stench. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was an attitude she'd seen plenty and she wished Ace was there to talk them out of their nerves. He was always the one that was better at all the talking.

"I'm not gonna backstab you, so stop being so tense. You're gonna die of high blood even before these biters get you," she quipped, paired with a light chuckle. Her eyes shifted back out to the streets where a slowly straggling biter seemed to have been roused by their conversation. She turned back to her companion and nodded in the general direction of the biter. With her voice considerably lowered, she said, "Might wanna scram before we get trapped in this alley. Trust me. Seen it happen and it was not pretty."

Her eyes came up to the fire escape. They could get to high ground and make their way to the bank by jumping from roof to roof, but some had alleys between them far wider than she'd originally anticipated (she almost fell from one after overestimating her leaping abilities and ended up alerting the biters in the building with her excited laughter). They could go to the streets, but who knew how many biters were out there. With a sigh, she smiled to her companion. "Take the reigns," she said with a slight fluorish of her free hand before adding as an afterthought, "Name's Sam, by the way."

Kyle looked through the broken window of the convenience store and a his lips twitched up. It wasn't completely looted yet.

He'd managed to avoid any hostilities so far; He hadn't even seen one of the Limpers on his way there. It was just him, the sound of footsteps, and the street. The stores lights were flickering, including the neon sign, he noticed. The parking lot was empty, and so far, it looked like the store was devoid of life aswell.

He inhaled, exhaled, then stepped inside. His grip on the shovel was so tight his knuckles had gone pale. He took one of the shopping carts with his free hand, the shovel rested on his shoulder, and walked around.

It was eerily silent.

As he started filling up the cart, however, he heard something shuffling. It's fine, Kyle, he thought, you'll be okay.

Unsurprisingly, mentally reassuring himself didn't do anything to calm him. He started to try and fit some supplies into his pouch; An extra water bottle, another battery for the flashlight and some snacks...

"Ah, shit-" He muttered, as the second can of crackers slipped out of his grasp and clattered along the floor. He heard a groan. More shuffling. His free hand moved to grip his shovel again, and his fight or flight instincts started to come in.

He started walking towards the exit. The shuffling got closer. Another groan. Then he dared to do something he was taught to never do whilst running;

He looked back. And he almost vomited in his mouth right then and there. A teenage boy in a uniform, flesh stripped off of his arm, leaving only bloodied bones. Deathly pale skin and white eyes, one pants leg torn off at the knee.

And oh God. The smell. Kyle took a few steps back, then turned around and ran as fast as he could. He didn't really care where, he just didn't want to be near one of them.

Unbeknownst to him, he was running in the direction of a bank.

Jason Crowley
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Jason stands up off of the ground and nods his head to her."I'm Jason. Or Jay, if you'd prefer to make your life one syllable easier." He says to Sam with a half smile.
"Nice to meet you, Sam. Actually, to be honest, it's nice to meet anyone, really."He puts his axe into one hand, at his side.
"I know the streets here. I've lived here for a while. Bank's this way." Jason says, walking to the end of the alley and pointing to the left down the street. He jumps on top of a car in the street, which is filled with walkers.
"Follow me. If we stay on top of these cars, we should be alright for now." He says to Sam.

Jason stays atop the car, and peers down the street. The bank isn't too far, but it might take a bit of a toll on them to get there, especially dueling through all these geeks to get there. He knew so far that he could trust this girl, even though he didn't know much about her. But having someone to trust would make surviving that much easier. Jason isn't someone with much combat experience, but he knows how to get around what he's doing.

Sam followed Jay out into the streets, hopping from car to car quickly. Most of the biters that wandered around attempted to reach for their legs but the height of the car roof and the biters' inability to jump (she'd never seen one attempt it, so it was safe to assume that motor function was inaccessibale to them) kept the two of them safe. Being atop the cars allowed them a good vantage view of the area as well. In fact, if she squinted, she could see a familiar landmark just by the horizon.

When she stepped down into one of the lower vehicles, a biter got too close for comfort and she swung her axe. It's blade met the biter's head, spraying her with blood and bile. She would need to take a shower soon and thankfully, the water lines in the bank still worked. She could just fill some buckets she found in a storage closet with water and she'd have her own makeshift shower, but getting the grime off her clothes would still be quite a chore. She really should have just stolen more clothes instead.

She quickly hopped back onto a higher vehicle and tossed Jay a small grin. "Close call there, huh?" she commented with a chuckle, wiping off some blood from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She glanced back to the streets, noticing with pride that they were almost to the bank. "Couple more blocks and we're there."

She took a step, eager to get back to her base, and misjudged the distance between the cars. She fell down to the asphalt, but was up on her feet within second, axe at the ready. Apart from the biter nearest to her, which she'd disposed off easily, the other biters in the streets were more focused on someone emerging from a nearby store. Another survivor!

She glanced at Jay before motioning that she would help. It was up to him if he'd offer a hand as well.

She sprinted towards the young man, whistling loud enough to get his attention but not that of the biters that weren't already alerted of their presence. With a practiced swing, she decapitated the head of the biter chasing the man, not even sparing a glance at its gruesome remains. It was nothing she hadn't seen before, and while she thought they looked kind of cool before, now the rotting meat simply acted like a target.

A smirk teased at the edges of her lips as she regarded the other survivor. "Sam," she introduced, "You're welcome."

She grinned at the young man before correcting her stance. Some biters had already gathered around her, but not enough that she couldn't slash her way out.

Jason Crowley
11:15 AM
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Jason slashed away a few of the walkers trying to get to them, swinging with precision at their skulls. He watched carefully as Sam fell to the asphalt. "Sam!" He yelled out to her as she got back up. He knew she was okay. Plus he had his own problem to deal with in the meantime. A walker in a car, reached through the shattered windshield, and grabbed Jason's ankle.

"MotherFUCKER!" He kicked it, in the face, keeping it's disgusting, rotting teeth away from his leg. He gave it another swift kick to the face, and smashed half of it's face off. Gross. All over his shoes and everything. How nasty. "Ugh, come on!" He started to get back up when he noticed something. A 32. revolver on the passenger seat of the car. He knew that it would come in handy at some point, and immediately reached for it.

Unbeknownst to him, the corpse that was in the back of this car, was also a walker. It got up, and moved toward him, reaching for his elbow. "No way, guy." He reached for the gun, trying not to cut himself on the glass of the broken windshield. Just as the walker was at his arm, he gets the gun, and pulls back out of the car. He opened up the chamber. 4 bullets. He closes the chamber, and stands back up.

Looking out onto the street, he sees Sam. And now, someone new. Look away for two seconds, and you miss an entire person out here. Sam was introducing herself to this new character. Jason aims the gun at one of the undead going right for the back of her neck, and fires off a round into its head. Being the movie fan he is, Jason knows that it's not a good idea to shoot out in the streets. But that was too close of a call to let it go. "Let's go! Geeks are all over us! And I know they're gonna flock to the shot!" Jason tries to signal them onto the cars with him. He didn't know this new person, but he can't let someone die JUST because they're a stranger.

Kyle stopped sprinting, skidding to a stop and almost tripping as he stumbled, as he caught sight of another survivor. He turned around, just in time to see the Limper get its head decapitated off.

The teen looks at the woman. And her, quite frankly, scary grin. "Uh...Thanks, Sam," he says, his eyes filled with caution, but also happiness. He spared a glance at the head, rolling towards (and past) them. It was disgusting and he tried to ignore it and the smell of the corpse. "My name's Kyle."

Further conversation was interrupted by a loud gunshot that left his ears ringing. Not really hearing Jasons shout, he saw the stranger signalling them onto the car and got on top. "I'll just, follow your lead. Yeah."

Rachel... hadn't stood up in at least a day.

Her legs felt numb. The dull pain of pins and needles had subsided several hours ago, and now the only feeling in her legs was a faint tingling. She could feel the muscles in her legs softening, sinking into her bones, as though they were trying to force them apart. Her mind was just as numb, the after-effects of the drugs still tingling despite all the time that had passed.

'I... feel hungry...'

Her hand shuffles through the gaps in the small cubby which she had made for herself, reaching for the large bag of supplies -- well, large for her -- that she was left with. Reaching inside, Rachel takes out one of the cans which could be accessed without a can opener, considering she wasn't quite sure how to use one, and pried it open using the screwdriver on the multi tool. So much work for cold spaghetti...

She gulps down some of the spaghetti and sits silently in contemplation, waiting. "Where's momma...? Where's favva...?" She asks nobody in particular - probably herself, she knew, though no answers came from neither herself nor the surrounding garbage. She considers reading the note left by her mother, however decides not to, simply shaking her head and taking another sip from her spaghetti.

'Mom... Dad... Where are you...?'

Abel O'Connell

Upon finishing his coughing fit Abel tried to make a mental note to find some cleaning wipes along with all the other crap he needed. He really didn't want to constantly stink of death, even if his surroundings did. With his groceries in mind he continued on down the alley, stopping suddenly when a gunshot rang out in the distance. He stood silently, listening for more sounds following it, but nothing else came, at least that he could hear. He couldn't quite gauge the distance between him and whoever had fired that round but he guessed they were pretty close. Within a few blocks, probably. He sheathed his knife and took his handgun from inside his belt instead. Far better to have a gun in hand if one had to be in a shoot-out.

He kept on down the alleys, walking faster but trying to be even quieter than he had been before. Finally the line of alleys ended and he was forced out onto the street. He looked right first and spotted two Gob's up the block, in the direction he needed to go, he then looked left and...

“Shit!” He exclaimed, immediately spinning around and running as fast as he could up the block. How many had there been!? At least a dozen if his eyes weren't fucking with him, and all shuffling up the block towards him. He ran almost two more blocks, mostly seeing walkers in two's and three's but occasionally he would glance down a street and see a large crowd of them all shuffling together. He was really damn grateful they didn't seem to run.

He went to turn left down the street he planned to find most of his supplies on, but once again there were a group of walkers. Cursing under his breath he tried to think of where else he could find at least some of the supplies he needed, but he couldn't. He had only gotten to the city as it was going to hell, he didn't exactly have time to get familiar with the different areas. Failing to come up with a first plan he went for the next best thing and decided to simply try and get back to his warehouse. Maybe wait until dark and try again. He wouldn't be able to go back the way he came now though, that way was packed with Gob's. He'd have to keep going and see if he could find another way back.

Once again he began running, his lungs burning all the while. He smiled to himself remembering a friend of his chastising him for not having cardio days as part of his work outs in prison.

“Yeah, you be big and strong, but without cardio and legs your foundations fucked so you're easily dropped!” The large Jamaican would shout. Abel wished he had listened back then.

He kept avoiding the streets and alleys with more than three Gob's down them, but kept moving all the while. He soon found himself at the end of yet another street, unlike the others though this one had three seemingly living survivors car hopping all the way down it despite the dead being all over the place. Abel couldn't turn back, by now the Gob's he had seen making their way down the streets would all be converging at the ends of them. He'd get trapped. He couldn't simply run down this street because the monsters were all over the place. Not the vast groups he had seen, but enough to make it too much of a risk. With all other options seemingly ruled out and time running short he did what he thought was the only thing left. He jumped up onto a car and started running down the line of them the same way the people almost a block ahead of him had done. He hoped they wouldn't hear him over the noise the dead were making, but he kept his gun in his hand just in case. He didn't know what kind of people these were.

The sound of a gunshot echoed against the walls of the buildings lining the street and Sam winced, both from the loud noise and the fact that it was sure to attract the attention of more biters than they could handle. Still, she glanced at the hole the shot ripped through the biter's skull and saw just how close it had been to making her its lunchtime snack. She shot a thankful grin at Jay and followed the two men atop the cars.

The crowd of biters around the grew to the size of a small horde, with some bumbling out from inside the buildings to inspect whatever had caused the sound they heard. Sam could only suspect that in their rotten minds, the sound of a gunshot may have as well been the same as a kitchen bell signalling dinner time. She hopped atop the car, kicking back at the face of one biter that attempted to drag her down. Once she was sure of her safety, she chanced a look around for anything they could use to escape the growing numbers of biters surrounding them.

She saw another person a couple of blocks away from them, but Sam's gut told her not to bring attention to him. He didn't seem like an inherently bad person, but Sam caught sight of his gun, and if he was the skittish type then that could mean a bullet accidentally firing off and an injury that none of them had the supplies to deal with. She had enough experience with people toting guns without much knowledge on how to use them or the sensibilities for their wise usage. That only spelled trouble and they had enough as it was with the biters.

She gave the stranger a small nod, if only to signify that they were no threat to him, before continuing her search. Three cars from the one they were standing on was a building familiar to her. It was a small convenience store, the very same one that she had raided during her first day inside the city. A couple of days after that, when she had secured the bank as a base of sorts, she kept a makeshift bridge inside it to help her cross to the next building - the one that led back to the bank. If they managed to get to the building's roof and use the bridge, it could save them a whole heap of trouble.

She hopped over to the next car, motioning for the others to follow. "You see that store? We can head to its roof and use it to get to the bank faster," and safer, she left unsaid. "Once we get to the roof, we're home free." There was a grin on her face as she lead them towards the building, one that only grew when she split a biter's skull in half as she moved on to another car.

Jason Crowley
11:20 AM

Jason keeps his newfound gun out in his hand as they cross more cars. Making eye contact with this other survivor coming near them, Jason turns away from Sam and Kyle, who are now two cars ahead of him. "Keep moving." That was all he said to Sam and Kyle, before turning 180 degrees, and going toward this other new survivor, who is about a half block away. It isn't entirely safe, But Jason decides to keep going after this guy, who may or may not be friendly.

When Jason looked down the street on the intersection of where he was going to meet this guy, he noticed something a little unnerving. The infected are coming from the direction of the bank that Sam wants to get back to so badly. "Oh fuck." Jason turns to see where this guy wearing the leather jacket, who is also car hopping is. They're pretty close now. About 20 yards from each other. There is a gap in the cars between Jason and Abel. Jason jumps to the ground, and swiftly moves between any geeks, toward the other set of collided cars. Right in the middle of this empty space, is an armored S.W.A.T-truck, which was used by riot police during the beginning of the outbreak.

Surrounded, and against the side of the truck, Jason fires off one round into the skull of a walker too close to him. More start flocking now. Jason quickly climbs the side of this truck, and rolls onto the top of it, where there is just him, and a dead officer in riot gear. Catching his breath, Jason rolls over, now face-to-face with this officer, who opens his eyes, to reveal he is infected. Jason would have probably died, if not for the face-guard of the Riot helmet. Jason fires a round from the .32 pistol into it's face, killing it with ease. He opens the chamber. Only 1 bullet left in this thing. "Better make this count." He says to himself. He sits up, and looks toward Abel. He gives a small wave to him, with the gun in his hand, and blood on his clothes from the last few infected he killed. He is knocked a little to the side from his sitting position, when a few geeks slam on the side of the truck.

Abel O'Connell

Trying hard to keep his eyes both on where he was placing his feet and the people ahead of him was proving more difficult than he had anticipated, and it wasn't long before he looked back up and saw one of them seemingly nod at him.

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. No turning back now, no other direction but forwards either. The Gob's were all over the place. He ran up and down cars, sometimes jumping from one to the other and sometimes having to make a small sprint from one to the next. His palms were sweating heavily and once again he wished he'd worked out more before everything went to shit. He feared his gun would slip from his hand. Nearing an intersection Abel ran towards it and watched as the small crew fought off the dead and was surprised when one of them turned around and started back in his direction.

The stranger reached the intersection first and with Gob's closing in all around him he quickly hopped up onto a SWAT truck, killing the undead SWAT team member on top of it and giving Abel a wave. With the space between him and the dead getting ever smaller Abel made one last sprint and got to the intersection, quickly raising his gun and firing off into the closest Gob's head. The closeness of him and the target meant he didn't have to be anything close to a decent-shot to hit what he wanted to and he watched as the thing's brain matter shot out the back of it's head in a mushroom pattern. He fired off two more rounds, dropping two before he couldn't afford to shoot any more of them without getting bitten. He ran, hopping up onto the hood of the truck and climbing onto the roof, doing a small roll and landing right next to the stranger.

“Thanks for the idea, name's Abel...” He breathed heavily, catching his breath. “You have any clue how we're getting out of this alive?”

Jason Crowley
-------------

Jason looks over to Abel with a smirk, as the geeks below shake the truck back and forth. "Nice to meet you, Abel." He takes a deep breath. "I'm Jason. He stands up, looking around. There isn't a safe centimeter on the ground surrounding the truck. Not for at least 12 yards in all directions. And even more walkers are coming in closer. They wear all types of clothes, and come from all ethnicities. Police officers, and other random people who didn't stand a chance at survival. He looks down the street to his left, and sees the bank that Sam was talking about. The undead flood that street. There doesn't seem to be such an easy way to get in there.

"As for making this out alive..." Jason looks in all directions. "It doesn't look like a likely situation." He says. "How are you on ammo?" Jason looks down at the roof of the truck. He spots a hatch that goes to the inside. However, it is locked up. He tilts his head at it, and looks away from it for now.

Michael Wesley
Tagged- None

Morning time...11 AM...it lacked the usual, familiar sounds of birds chirping, crickets scratching, and squirrels scurrying...something he felt that he severely missed. Regardless, he had long since pushed away such longings and desires, adapting to the situation as it was presented to him. No longer could he sit on top of the ranch house, plucking away at his grandad's old guitar, as the roosters crowed and the birds sung their sweet melodies. No longer could he get dirty and grimy in the pig pen, wrestling with the grungy little beasts. No longer could he ride his three-wheeler through the mud and leaves, chasing after that buck that had long since fled when he heard the arrow notching. It was all dead and gone...and he would have to deal with that;; He had already dealt with that. Regardless, the distant, rare sounds of bullets had woken him up a lot earlier that morning, around 3 A.M. or so.

He had passed out at around 8 or 9 PM that previous night, after securing his temporary 'shelter' with a variety of different home-made traps - which involved certain lengths of rope and a bunch of old, cracked dishes and pans. Ever since he had been awoke, he didn't do much;; He simply stayed where he had fell asleep, eating a small portion of his packaged deer meat, some water, and then began the daily maintenance of all of his equipment. Wipe the bow down with some oil and an old rag, sharpen the arrow's head with his utility knife, and then use an older knife he had found in the 'shelter' to sharpen his utility knife. Make sure the feather fletchings were all correct and true, so that the arrows would fly true, and then tighten the durable string on the bow itself. This had taken a few hours, and thusly, led up to this moment in time.

His temporary 'shelter' was nothing more than a small, two-bedroom home that had the fortune to not have been looted already. It was hidden away near an alley, and was rather grungy and dirty - obviously, it hadn't taken a lot of money to buy the house, judging by it's state. There were no one here;; no blood, or bodies, or even clothing, although he had noticed, and used, different objects such as dishes and old kitchen knives to booby-trap the house and maintain his equipment. The previous owners must've had ducked out and ran away with their personal belongings once the shit hit the fan. He couldn't blame them;; In the beginning of this all, Michael could only imagine how horrified and fearful they must've been. It was truly a shame that this all had to go down...but that's just the way the cookie crumbled. Life was filled with hardships, and the death of his grandparents only solidified that wise saying.

'Enough of that.' When was the last time he had talked, anyways? He snorted to himself, standing from the dusty, torn couch, and sitting his dark-colored recurve bow onto the old coffee table. Hard eyes glanced over the cache. His heavy-duty travelling backpack was sat on the table, a canteen holstered to it's side, right beside his leather-wrapped quiver, filled with his newly-sharpened and added arrows. Beside that, was a sharp, retractable knife, it's scarred silver casing battered. And finally, beside that, was a dark red crowbar, dried blood still specking the top piece. Michael leaned forward, grabbing an oiled rag to wipe the blood off, and then stood back up. Everything was primed and ready to go...it was time to go out and search for supplies.

He slid the utility knife into it's holster on his right pants leg, making sure that the strap keeping it there was secure. Straightening, he slung the quiver over his back, making sure that it's dark brown strap was secure, before grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulders, making sure that it wasn't squeezing against the quiver too tight - an arrow being stuck, whilst he was attempting to notch, was something that he did not want to happen again. Satisfied, he strapped the crowbar to the right side of his backpack, before taking a glance around. Everything was taken care of. He had all of his equipment. His knife in it's holster, his quiver on his back, his backpack - which had his crowbar and canteen, and he had his recurve bow gripped securely in his calloused hands.

Nodding grimly to himself, Michael zipped up his jacket, before pulling up the hood. A short walk later, in which he carefully stepped over a couple of snares and crunched glass, Michael twisted the knob towards the left, instead of the right, which would have made a sharp squeaking noise. Opening the door slightly, the man slipped out into the still city, his boots padding quietly on the blood-stained sidewalk. His first stop? That boarded up super-market he had noticed, whilst scouting around the city yesterday. It was in the downtown area, labeled 'Chris' Fine Foods'. His truck stayed parked near his base, a tarp laid over it to shield the inside from the sun.

'Why's it so dark?'

Those were the first words that popped into Jess' head. She sat up from her uncomfortable position on the cold, hard floor of the pharmacy. It wasn't easy getting up as she tried to stretch out her sore and painful muscles while trying to stretch off the painful gnawing in her stomach. She hadn't eaten much in the past few days. She and her friends were due for a run into the city before the bandits came in. It didn't help that she had burned all her energy trying to run as far away from those bandits as possible as well as keep herself safe from the multitudes of the undead all around. She remembers having been absolutely exhausted that night trying to run away. She had been running for what felt like hours before finally settling down. Thankfully the pharmacy was a relatively safe spot to stay in. Not a lot of undead around as well as the empty shelves kept people from wanting to check the place for any supplies that might have been overlooked in the initial chaos.

She stood up and continued to stretch her sore muscles, not being in a particular hurry since everyone she knew was pretty much (un)dead. Taking a good look of her surroundings she began to scavenge the shelves, most of them were disappointingly empty, as were the cabinets. Whoever was scavenging made a really good point to literally go through everything and grab anything that they could. She does the same as well. Even though it's only been a month, everyone's supplies are probably running low. Rationing so little food for a month can only do so much before one has to go out and go on a supply run. She was lucky enough that there were still supplies at all when she and her friends did their runs even after the original burst of chaos when everything started going to shit. She imagined that stores and all would have been looted dry. But when people are dropping like flies and then getting resurrected to eat other people's brains and guts out, no one's really thinking straight.

As she gets ready to go out she takes one last survey of the storeroom. She puts her ear up against the door, listening closely for any groans or shuffling, even though she probably isn't going to hear much. Placing her hand on the knob carefully and twisting it as slowly and quietly as she can she pushes the door open, praying to god that she isn't going to encounter anything. Her entire body is sore and she has yet to eat a meal big enough to keep her from fainting. So running away from a horde of zombies (or even a few) is the last thing she wants until she gets food to eat.

She's thankfully greeted by nothing dangerous.

She sighs in relief and begins to move towards the door. Surveying as much of the area as she can see, she comes to the conclusion that there is nothing to worry about for now. She walks outside into the sunlight and begins her journey to finding some food to eat. But it isn't even a minute until she hears some rustling in the alley next to the pharmacy. She looks over to where the sound was coming from, taking the knife out of her bag and moving towards the sound. She's quiet and tries her best not to make a sound as she's moving towards the garbage bags. More rustling occurs and she's put more on edge by it. But that's when she hears it...

"Where's momma...? Where's favva...?"

'Oh my god...' she's dumbfounded. If she heard what she heard just now correctly, that must have been a little girl hidden among the garbage. There's no way that a little girl could be in the garbage right now. It must be the hunger that's getting to her. She's hearing things that aren't there. Thoughts and ideas of what she heard race through her mind. Can zombies talk now? Are they able to create actual words and sentences now? And sound like little girls hiding in garbage? Could this be a trap of some sort? Or could this be an actual child hidden in the garbage?

She's only a few feet away from the garbage now. Her hand shakily holding the hunting knife. There's only one way to find out if this is real or not.

"H-Hello? Is anyone there?" she asks. She's loud enough that whatever was in the garbage can hear her, but not loud enough for anyone else outside the alley to hear. She doesn't dare take a step any closer, not wanting her feet to be grabbed just in case this all goes to hell.

Abel O'Connell

“Pleasure to meet you Jason.” Abel chuckled, somewhat deliriously, sitting up from his laid down position. “I fired three rounds, so I should have thirteen left. With how rotted these things are we could probably get lucky and kill more than one with a single round at the right angle. I don't like the idea of betting my life against my luck though, and even if half the bullets in my magazine killed more than one we'd still be left with more than we could handle. This is a certified shit situation.”

He got up onto his feet, bending his knees slightly in what was an obvious balancing stance and looking around at the surroundings. There were plenty of buildings to run into, but no way to make it to them with so many Gob's around.

“I've never seen this many of them, and on the way here I saw half a dozen more groups all shuffling together, probably heading this way. Was it the gunshot that attracted them? They hunt by sound?”