Annabelle didn't like wearing boyish pants. She liked to be dressed like a lady all the time.

The dirt path twisted out of sight and dissolved into the black body of trunks. The gigantic mushroom of leaves over the forest canopy consumed all the light leaving a rectangular box of pitch black darkness. From so far away it looked amazingly tranquil.

Sometimes the shivering leaves would stop long enough for one's breath to be heard before continuing its whispering, as though indicative of each passing hour like the strikes of a grandfather clock, like bed sheets scratching against the mattress under it when it's time for it to be washed, like the sound of waves brushing against each other slapping against the sand on the shore.

Annabelle didn't want to trace the dirt path into the forest. She didn't like the sound the forest made. It could be heard from the house. She's heard it all her life. She's hated it all her life too.

Dresses weren't suitable to move through the thickness of the forest where the trees grew too close to each other. The branches would tangle up into the hem of her skirt, the loose sleeves of her frock would get caught in the dry, cracking wood, and sometimes she would step on her own frock and fall over. No, she had to wear boy clothes. It was a good thing her brother was as thin as her. His shirt fit her perfectly, and so did the jeans and the boots. But that was to be expected. They were twins after all.

She needed to go to the city, to get more fertilizer for the plants. She needed to get new clothes too; she was getting tired of the two of her's. She also needed another gallon of oil to power the heating system in the greenhouse and for the electricity as winter would be coming soon and she couldn't count of the solar panels to work anymore. She would need to also find a way to carry all this and more the two kilometers to her house from the city.

And she needed to start by stepping into the forest.

"I don't want to go," She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching the hem of the shirt. "Mom, please don't let them catch me,"

"Ah! I've always wanted to see this one."

In the dim light provided by his flashlight, a middle aged man stood admiring a painting. The little plate beneath the work, which depicted a tiny little bedroom, read 'Gogh, Vincent van- Van Gogh's Room at Arles'. The man was Ezra Schultz, and he was most delighted to find that the Chicago Art Institute had been left largely alone by scavengers. In the days since the cataclysm most survivors had focused on essentials- food, water, necessary supplies. There seemed to be very few art thieves about. Certainly, the lower level- in particular the gift shop and the various staff rooms- had been turned upside down by locals searching for items of utility, but most of the cultural treasures remained in place. Ezra had noticed a Jackson Pollock was missing, but that was no major loss so far as he was concerned. Some desperate fellow had probably taken it for kindling. And that was just as well.

Deciding he had played art critic long enough for the day, he made his way down the dark and silent corridors toward the entrance. It was sad, Ezra thought, to see that the august halls which once had teemed with admiring onlookers were now so bereft of such attention. He was glad, though, that there were no monstrosities about. He had seen- and sent to Hell- more than a few since civilization had broken down, and had run at the rumor of even more. He had scant desire to run into another, when his day was going so well. The entire reason for his pilgrimage up to Chicago, to tour the museums and to peruse the libraries, had gone off almost without a hitch. True, he had lost his bicycle- but in such a large city he was certain to find another means of transport.

"Too bad the L isn't running anymore." he said, to nobody.

Speaking to himself was a habit he had picked up while wandering the ruins, and he frowned as he realized he really had no one else to talk to. He had been in the company of a cordial young man from Indianapolis, but the rogue made off with his bike while Ezra was strolling through the Field Museum. That was two days ago, and he had not met with a single soul since then. Stepping out onto the great steps before the main entrance, he took a seat with one of the only friends he had left- Gibbon's The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. It wasn't a very fair account, but it had been years since he'd last read it, and so he had made a point of 'borrowing' it from a library in Gary.

As he read the tome, he produced his pipe, his tobacco, and a book of matches. Puffing meditatively, he pondered his situation as he read. He had just a little food left, fewer than twenty bullets for his gun, and only his legs for getting around. There was no way around it- he would have to throw his lot in with some other survivors. That was, if he could find any. It seemed like most people these days were living in the countryside, shunning the cities. Perhaps a trip to the suburbs? Perhaps someone was holding out in Cicero, or somesuch. He would have to find a map- and perhaps a working car and some gasoline. Cars were easy enough to come by, but gas was a bit rarer for someone without the the know-how to get it out of a pump sans electrical power.

Kat sat by the window staring out blankly absentmindedly sharpening her pocket knife. This was the fourth day that James was gone, and she knew that something had gone wrong, it took Kat less than a day to walk into town, and James could do it in under 2 hours. He has promised to be back 3 days ago "at the latest", but he wasn't. Kat felt her eyes prickle with tears, and she blinked them away, sniffing her constantly running nose. She hadn't had anything to eat since she finished off the baked beans yesterday morning, her tummy was aching already.

Kats hands worked rhythmically, sharpening the blade on her small pocket knife. James had been in the army, he had taught her the most important part of survival was to look after your tools. She knew she would have to leave the cabin today, and she'd have to do it soon if she wanted to make it somewhere safe before nightfall. She checked her satchel, previously is had been used for school books, now it had ammo, wire, string, hooks, and other trapping material. She snapped her pocket knife closed and slipped it into her pocket. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, it needed cutting, the uneven pixie cut had gone several weeks without a trim, and the tips of her fringe dangled over her eyes.

Kat slung the satchel over her shoulder, and checked the hunting rifle was clean before carefully slinging that over her shoulder also.. James words ringing in her ears "ALWAYS treat the gun as if its loaded." For a 7 year old Kat had a pretty good shot, and she'd been practicing for hours when James was here. Tears began streaming as she walked away from the house. She had never done this trip alone before, James had always been there. James was always there. Until now.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

3 hours later Kat arrived at the first "safepoint" that her and James had check out together. It was a small house on a quiet street, one of the old houses that backed onto the forest. Kat scanned the street carefully, she remembered what James had told her "You're small so stay down, hide and watch for at least 10 minutes. Be as silent as you can. If there is any movement, leave straight away and go to the next safe house. Don't ever try shoot them unless they are already attacking." after what felt like hours she silently zipped across the lawn, and onto the back porch. The small piece of red paper James jammed in the door every time was still in place, so no one had used that door to get it. Kat peeked in all the windows, and then finally, exhausted and cautious she entered the house.

15 minutes later she had checked every room, and was ready to eat. The house had been untouched since she had last been there with James, which meant that he hadn't been here either. Kat felt helpless, she was 7, how could she find him? Was he dead already? How would she survive on her own? Kat silently started crying, finally letting the tears she'd been holding back pour down her cheeks. What would she do?

The car had held out far longer than Takiko had thought it would. Now it slowed down, the little lamp showing her tank was empty was blinking steadily, ringing a few times every few mintes, as if to remind her, that thinks would get back to being a lot harder way too soon. She had been lucky to have gotten hold of it when she'd searched a big, modern and absolutely deserted house. The former inhabitants seemed to have left in a hurry, leaving most of the food and drinks behind they'd owned. Much to Takikos joy. It was close to unbelievable that noone else had been there before her. She'd been able to obtain a variety of canned and other durable foods, as well as a sixpack of 1,5l water bottles and the keys to their second car, still securely parked in the garage. It was some kind of new bmw, very sleek and, what was best with a tank still half-full. Apparently they had taken a different car as they left, its place in the garage was empty.

So, with a basket full of supplies for at least a week on the passengerseat and her backpack on top she would soon be stranded just outside the suburbs of chicago. She had taken the smallest, most deserted, out-of-the-way road she had been able to find on the map she had found in the car. She had spent one night sleeping on the backseat, resulting in her neck aching horribly as she stared down the road.

Sighing, she took off her glasses and rubbed her tired and aching eyes before putting them back on. She had to blink a few times to get her eyes back into focus when she froze, noticing a movement on the side of the road. She carefully stepped onto the brakes, merely slowing down, holding back her initial reflex of abruptly jerking to a halt with screeching tires. Her hands shook and she gripped the wheel tightly, taking deep breaths to keep calm until the car drove by the place she'd thought to have seen something moving about. For several seconds she didn't move, her eyes searching the surrounding bushes and trees for any kind of movement. Her heart was pounding harder and harder, but nothing happened and soon she was a good distance from whatever might, or might not have, been in those bushes.

It took her some time to relax and a lot of self-lecturing at how paranoid she was getting. Not that, in these circumstances, anyone could find fault in her being a little paranoid. After running from her infected, once-pretty-girl-turned-not-too-good-to-look-at-creature, roommate with scraps of skin dangling from what was left of her dead, white flesh- she shuddered at the thought and stopped herself from remembering that particular detail any further. She had yet to cry. About losing her life, about her roommate being dead- mostly- about probably never seeing her parents and friends again, about all these things that should be making her howl and thrash and cry her eyes out. It irritated her. Greatly. She was a little worried over her psychological health, still being so rational, even though weeks had gone by, plenty of time to realize and properly understand everything that had happened, and was still happening.

Takiko glanced at her smartphone she had put on top of her bag, where it couldn't slide down and was in plain sight should it relay any signs of life. It didn't, of course. She had desperately searched for one of those charging-adapters for cars for a few days after realizing that that might be one of the only ways to get any kind of electricity, but so far, she had had no luck. A sigh escaped her and she reached out to put it in her bag. Throwing it away was out of the question. It was the same with her wallet. Money was of no use anymore, but throwing it out, felt simply wrong to her. That also applied to her IPod. It still had some battery left, but soon that would be over as well. But whenever the absolute silence got too heavy to take it anymore, she'd listen to one of her favourite songs. It helped, at least a little.

The road was now going downhill, not to steep, but enough to hope that her car would roll on somehow, just long enough to find some fuel. She had a theoretical idea of how to get some from another car into hers, but she'd need a long hose and a car with some fuel left in its tank. How she was going to find that out, she wasn't sure yet. She'd have to improvise. Something she really wasn't too good at..

Dean could hear his heart beating as he sat still in the front seat of his truck, clenching the wheel with both hands. His chin lay on the top of the wheel as he observed a gas station from afar. He was in need of two things, gas and a radio. Obviously the gas is a priority and would come first, but if he had time to spare he would search the station for a radio. The gas station was small, and he decided a solid 10 minutes would suffice, but remained seated. He did this everytime before a gathering, searching for the perfect moment to make his move, sometimes only waiting a minute, sometimes ten minutes, sometimes half an hour. There really wasn't a way to describe a perfect moment, it was just a feeling, like a sixth sense.

Dean's eyes remained completely focused on the gas station, as still as he was. After about 5 more minutes, he set a timer for 10 minutes on his watch and bolted out the truck, reaching in the back for: an empty gas can, metal baseball bat, empty backpack, flashlight and a single wooden spear. He walked with haste towards the gas tanks, which unfortunately had to be activated from the inside. He quickly attached the nozzle from the pump to the empty gas can, then looked up to determine the number of the gas tank. "3" he whispers silently to himself as he cautiously made his way to the doors of the gas station. The backpack and wooden spear were slung over his shoulder as he gripped the baseball bat in his right hand and the flashlight in the other.

Slowly and silently as possible, Dean opened the door with his foot, shining the light into the gas station. Making an opening only enough for him to squeeze through, he made his way into the station, moving slowly as if stalking an animal in the forest. The first thing to do was make sure the station was empty, if he heard any unnatural noises he would leave immediately. This wasn't usually the case if someone was with him, but he was all alone. Checking the entire station took about a minute and thirty seconds, thankfully it was clear. Dean moved at a much faster pace but remained cautious. Hopping over the counter he searched for the button to allow gas through the tanks. "3" he whispers silently once more as he pressed a button labeled 3. "6 minutes" he whispered to himself after checking his watch.

Dean constantly looked around whilst pumping the gas, this part was always the worst to him when filling gas cans. He hated the waiting, it made him feel like an easy meal. When he finished, he checked his watch. "4 minutes" He whispered, and made his way back into the gas station. He opened the empty backpack and began to shove it with drinks, canned food, bread, etc, then made his way to the counter, grabbing some candy, cigarettes, cigars, and lighters. He didn't smoke, but had traded cigarettes and cigars in the past for food and shelter. Under the counter he spotted a box, and to his luck, it contained a radio. He felt somewhat happy. Well, happy was a strong word, more like accomplished. Examining it a bit he noticed it didn't have an antenna, he would have to craft one later.

Suddenly the timer went off, Dean hastily grabbed all his belongings and ran out the front door and to the truck, picking up the gas can along the way. He threw everything in the back except for his baseball bat, jumped into the car, turned on the engine and slowly made his way onto a dirt road through the forest. After driving for about 5 miles Dean came to a stop, and sat still for about 5 minutes before exiting the truck to fill the tank with gas. He did so cautiously, again constantly looking around the immediate area. Once he finished he put the gas can in the back and pulled out two maps and a red marker. The first map was a standard travelers map of the United States, and the second was a custom one drawn by Dean. He put an X over the gas station on his custom map and began to add the forest and road he was currently traveling on. He looked to his traveling map, and it seemed he was on the outskirts of Chicago. "Almost home," he said to himself. Dean folded up the maps and put them in the side pocket of his jacket, which also contained a picture of his mother. Hopping back into the truck, he continued driving.

Lex stared down at the ashen ground from the roof of a high-rise with her feet dangling carelessly off the edge. She had left Jim safe and sound in an underground safe room she’d discovered almost a month and a half ago; but although it was a safe room, Jim and Lex had found themselves unable to return to it at times, finding fresh blood smeared on the ground nearby, and even a small three-armed creature rolling around in a puddle. It had been clear that the creature had once been a young, darker-skinned child with even darker hair. When coming upon things like these, the two would head back in the direction they came from and take refuge elsewhere for at least three days. They wouldn’t risk being trapped in the haven considering there was only one way in and out. Lex pulled her legs up, her feet returning to the solid roof. She showed herself back out of the building, already having taken the few things she could find that would benefit her and Jim before sitting on the rooftop.

It was quiet back on ground-level, except for the wind knocking across the buildings, rattling broken glass pieces and rocks. Lex could remember the busy hustle of the streets years ago, but she wouldn't let her mind dwell on it. She couldn't her mind dwell on it. She knew that all thinking about the past would do is make her go crazy. She knew that because that's what happened to Jim. He was old and he had a lot of stories to tell- stories about their family and when she was so young she couldn’t even remember her own birthday. She took extra care to avoid these stories at all costs and even refused to call him her Grandfather. Jim was just Jim to her, and even though she would risk her life for him a thousand times, she was always prepared to say goodbye.

By now, Lex was convinced that the city was completely deserted. It had been almost two months since she and Jim had decided to stay and not once did they come across other survivors. Back when they were staying in an abandoned cabin a few hours away from where they are now, they had found two others. The two became hysterical when they found them and, just by that, Lex could tell that they would be of no help to them; just another burden that they’d have to carry on their shoulders.

After a quick readjustment of her backpack, Lex continued onto the next building. It was no wonder no one came to the city. It was crawling with creatures and there was barely anything useful left in the buildings, yet still, Lex consistently went out on a search every week,

Meanwhile as Lex advanced on her hunt for supplies, Jim stayed sitting on a thin mattress, awaiting her return. He never went with her on these raids, as much as he wanted to. He knew he would only slow her down, especially if they were to be attacked. The older man’s head throbbed with the silence. He reeked of sweat and dried blood and he was missing the company of other people. It was nice back when they had run into new people. They had enjoyed his stories, which he assumed was because of the lack of entertainment there was now. But Lex thought otherwise of their company and decided they should leave as the strangers while they slept. Suddenly, a scratch against the pavement outside brought Jim back to reality. Assuming it was one of the Brutes, he didn’t move a muscle, praying for it to not be smart enough to explore the scents coming from the random wooden door in the ground. It was unfortunate praying was all he could do, considering Lex had taken the only knife they had, leaving a home-made wooden spear. It wasn’t exactly a guarantee that a wooden spear would make the kill.

19 minutes. The car held out for nineteen minutes, before it came to a slow, rolling stop without any sound. Except for the fuel gauge blinking an jingeling wildly. Then the motor turned off and silence descended. Takiko hit the wheel with her hands furiously, her feet kicking the pedals and for a moment she allowed herself to full-out violently thrash about, cursing loudly at the poor vehicle.

When she stopped she was breathing hard, her limbs hurting from the continued impact with the cars solid interior and she slumped in her seat, rubbing her face with her hands, not caring that her glasses fell off, landing in her lap. Once her frustration was tightly under control again, she looked up and studied her surroundings. Trees. Trees and bushes and the road she had been driving on, that had gotten considerably less roady and more dirty. But nothing else, it seemed. She sat up, reaching for the gun tucked in the back of her jeans, which had been uncomfortable, but it reassured her and you never knew. She had done that thing with the safety-belt, where you put it together behind you, to keep it from alerting the car, but without having to confine yourself to the car. In case of an accident, she'd honestly prefer flying through the car and breaking her neck instead of getting seriously hurt and being unable to leave when the creatures came to get themselves a meal.

She unlocked the guns safety lock, something that had taken her forever to find out about, since she'd never used one before. And slowly opened the door, peeking out and searching the area behind her for any movement. None. She opened the door a little wider, carefully to not make much noise. She wasn't sure how much exactly the creatures perceived, but she wasn't eager to find out. Especially not in the middle of a damn forest all on her own.

The door opened fully, she got out, carefully standing by the door as she tensely and slowly looked around. Still nothing. She sighed and stretched, her back cracking and her limbs hurting from the long drive. Then turned around to stare at her car. How was she ever going to get a that basket anywhere? She could fill the backpack with as much rations as possible, but leaving even the smallest amount behind might be fatal later. She couldn't be sure when she'd next be able to get herself some more. She sighed andslumped against the car with the front of her body, hitting her forehead on its roof a few times before freezing in shock at a loud rustling behind her. She gulped and slowly turned around, raising her gun as she did so and stared at one of them. Her heart beating up into her ears. "Oh." she breathed, "not good~".

The creature was tall, definetly once human, but now not so much. Its skin was pale, but blackened as if burned and missing on some parts of its body. Scraps of clothes hang around its limbs and it was making soft, hearable breathing noises, while staring right at her. Her initial impulse to scream it to death was less helpful, her second thought of pulling the trigger more so, but not perfect either. She didn't knwo how long it would take for her to get away from there and attracting more of them wouldn't be too good for her health. She gulped, her hands shaking as it kept standing there on the other side of the road, staring at her with his dead, blinded eyes. She had to squint to keep it in focus, her glasses having been dropped to the floor when she'd gotten out of the car. She wasn't sure whether she'd be able to hack its head off. She could do some martial arts, she knew how to fight and she was fast, but she had never needed to use, or learn how to use, weapons before. And as dead as this creature definetly was, it still seemed to somehow be alive in some way.

She caught herself praying for help. But what where the odds of meeting someone in a forest a distance from the suburbs of Chicago? No. She wouldn't be saved, she'd need to fight on her own. Keeping that thought in mind, she slowly pulled her left leg up, grabbing the handle of the long, sturdy and definetly expensive kitchen knive she had acquired with the car and her rations, tugging the gun back in the waistband of her jeans again, this time in the front, so that she could grab it if her initial plan of getting rid of the creature silently didn't work out. She tightened her grib on the knife, getting into fighting stance, her eyes taking in every movement of the creature before as it slowly, moved towards her. She bent her knees slightly, her feet steadily planted on the ground and her upperbody slightly angled. Raising her hands into the position she'd taken in her MA classes, she raised the knife as well, going about in a way that felt right. Her mind raced, thinking of the best way to go about this.

THe creature got close, too close for her comfort and fluently moved back a little, pulling ehr arms up to make room to strike out with her left foot, forcefully slamming it into the creatures ribcage. It was send flying back, stumbling back off the road, seemingly unable to coordniate its movements well enough to catch itseld, it landed back in the bushes, on its back, struggling to get up. Takiko sighed. Maybe this would go well after all.

The moment she'd finished that thought, she heard more rustling and withing seconds there were two more of them beside their companion, watching her with those dead, blank eyes their kind seemed to have in common. She gasped in shock, then again as she realized how different they states of... what was it.. decaying? were. While the first had looked kind of burnt, the one to his left had a crooked bag, his neck way too long to be human held the head up unevenly, swaying from side to side, half of its face showed the bones, the other half was still covered in greenish-looking flesh, that had seemed to be ripped of around the edges. The one on the right side was entirely different again. Small, with twig-like legs and broad feet that counted way to many toes. Its head seemed almost normal, if it hadn't been covered in greasy hair. Its arms were missing. Takiko had a hard time not retching at her feet.

Things were getting seriously dangerous. One she could've handled. Two might've still been within her possibilities as long as they weren't too quick on their feet. But three... She gulped, trying to push down the panick rising inside her. Three were too much, especially since it seemed the new arrived ones were a lot faster than the first one, since they'd seemed to come out of nowhere.

Annabelle had been running for a while now. About an hour. She was moving through the denser part of the forest now, skipping and skidding over protruding tree roots and broken twigs. She knew she was making a lot of noise but she couldn’t bear the forest. She had to escape before it trapped her. She could see the white clearing outside the forest. It was about 500 yards to her right. The bright evening sunlight shone a yellow orange light over the dirt road, once an asphalt road.

She’d never step onto that clearing. No matter how much she hated the forest. The first time she’d have to sneak around these familiar grounds like a thief was about half a year ago. And she’d made her biggest mistake then. She stepped out onto the clearing thinking it was safe.

She moved along parallel to the edge of the forest always keeping a watchful eye on the road for anything that might make her journey short. The wind didn’t rush past her ears and blow against her face as it used to before the world became empty. The tree leaves didn’t smell like rain and freshly cut grass like it used to either. It just didn’t smell. It didn’t have a feel. It was just there. Just another patch of decoration. ‘Did even the trees die?’ She wondered. ‘Is there no one left in this world?’

As though in response to her question she heard a loud bang, or maybe it was a scream. She wasn’t sure. It came from ahead of her, somehow on the road. She stopped running immediately and crouched down to the ground, hiding behind a tree. She peeked around the trunk and searched the road for something that responsible for that sound she just heard.

The first thing she saw was a bright flashing light. It took a while for her eyes to adjust but finally when it did, she realized it was a car. There wasn’t a flashing light. The light had reflected from the metal frame into her eyes. And what looked like an insane girl praying to the sky stood in front of it. Annabelle moved closer and squinted to try to make out the details. There had been people who’d gone insane from either being unable to accept the reality and cope with it or just from plain desire to display their traumatized mentality. She wasn’t sure to what degree this girl’s mind was gone and she wasn’t going to find out.

Staying close to the ground Annabelle moved around the trees keeping her eyes on the girl the whole time. The girl stood absolutely still. ‘Was she really praying to the sky?’ Annabelle wondered.

When she was close enough she realized the girl’s hands weren’t praying for salvation from the sky. It was pointing a blade towards something on the other side of the road.
It was a monster.

The same one that had trapped her here on the road the first time she’d made her mistake.

Annabelle quickly scanned the line of trees behind and around her. There among the trees along the edge two other monsters stumbled and shuffled toward the girl. She was focused toward the first monster. She might not have noticed the other two. The first one wouldn’t move. Actually, it just might not have been able to move for some reason. The ones to focus on were the other two.

“I don’t need to save her,” Annabelle reassured to herself as her heart began to pump harder and threatened to explode out of her. “She shouldn’t have got caught!” Tears blurred her vision and she couldn’t stop the image of her mom holding a gun to the head of a monster flashing in front of her eyes, just the way this girl was pointing a knife now. “Mom…” She cried silently before running toward the girl trying to reach her before the monsters did.

She pulled the axe out of her backpack and aimed to swing at the head of one of them. More would soon follow Annabelle was sure. Somehow they seemed to materialize out of nowhere at the most crucial time.

Everything that followed happened so fast, Takiko was barely able to comprehend everything until it was already over. The two newcomers charged, comeing at her witha speed she hadn't thought them to be able of. She couldn't step back, the car was blocking her way behind her, the open door was a hinderance to her right. She gritted her teeth, falling into a different stance, her feet apart, one forward, the other in the back to keep her balance when she took one hand off the knifes grip and, focused on the closest creatures, rammed the heel of her hand under its chin, resulting in an audible crack coming from its overly long neck. It seemed paralyzed for a second, something that was most likely thanks to it still being part human and exactly what she hoped for. She swung her knife out, sliding it into its neck from the side and ripping it sideways forcefully. Her hand were insantly covered in strange smelling blakish blood. She grimaced. Even more so when she saw that she had reached the bone, but the head was still attached. The creature fell backwards anyways, crumbling to the dirt with a thumping noise.

Takiko looked up, ready to take care of the second one before breaking the first ones neck and her eyes grew wide with surprise as she saw the girl that was charging ut of the woods, axe in hand and now connecting with the second reatures neck, a few steps from where she was standing. She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the sound resulting from the axe hitting its mark and turned to look away as the creature fell to the ground besides its mate, making gurgling sounds that made her want to retch again.

Her eyes went up to meet the girls and she took her in. She wasn't very tall, but thin and pale, her black hair cut into a pixie. She was wearing worn boys clothes that fit her frame well, though it didn't seem to match her air. She looked young, definetly a few years younger than herself, but she couldn't say how old exactly.

"Thank you." she told her appreciatively, but otherwise at a loss for words. She had yet to see more than 3 survivors, of which all of them had been infected sooner or later as well. She took a closer look at the girl, making sure she really was alive, then looked at down at her hands and grimaced at the blackis-red and sticky substance covering left hand and the knife it was holding. She reached into her jacketpocket with her clean hand, grabbing the napkin inside and proceeded to wipe her hand and knife as clean as possible, glancing up at the girl every few seconds, still kind of suspicious. Realizing she might see more with her glasses on, she glanced to the ground, noticing them still lying there, next to the front tire underneath the open door. She squatted down, reaching out and grabbing them.and putting them back on as she got up.

Kat had watched a car roll slowly down her road about 4 hours ago. "A trap? Or a survivor?" she thought, still peering out the window as if she'd see it if she looked hard enough. She fiddled with the pocket knife in her jacket pocket. When will James arrive? Are those people good or bad?

These things were too much for her 7 year old head, she let herself slide down the wall, resting her head on he knees. She knew 2 things for sure..
1, She needed someone to help her, a grownup who was strong and could tell her what to do.
And 2, She needed to find James.

Should I follow the car? ... No, it was could have been a trap and it would be too far gone by now. She needed to head out on her own once again. Kat shoved two cans of creamed corn and a bottle of water into her satchel. It was getting heavy now, but she lugged it onto her tiny shoulders regardless, there was no time to be 7 when you'd watched your family die. All that she had now was James, and she was determined that she would find him.

Kat walked along the forest edge for as long at the forest followed the road, once the road started peeling away from the treeline she began to walk cautiously on the side of the road. She remembered that there was another safe house her and James had stayed up for several weeks nearby, and hoped he was there.

As Kat made her way deeper and deeper into the city, she stayed closer to walls and lurked in the shadows, being extra careful to stay out the way of prying eyes. She'd already walked for what seemed like days, but in reality was only a few hours. She was still in the suburbia part of town, and soon she needed to stop for a rest. She ducked down a side road, and after a few mintues found herself outside a large old apartment building with an empty alleyway to the side. She walked down to the end of the alley, it was empty aside from an overturned rubbish bin and a large wooden door on the ground. Why is that door on the ground? How can people walk in and out if its not the right way up? How silly. Kat thought comically to herself.

She felt safe with big tall walls on three sides around her. She could rest here and be safe she hoped. The door was basically useless, it must lead to a big pit or something, maybe its for rubbish, Kat concluded. She still kept a wary eye on it as she sat down with her back against a wall, and flicked out her pocket knife and began scratching her name into the side of the wooden door, just for fun. After a few minutes of rest she was pretty certain there was no one around, and she began softly singing to herself. It was a lullaby in spanish that her mother had used to sing her, and it was the only song Kat knew.

Suddenly Kat stopped singing, had she just heard something? She leaped soundlessly behind the rubbish bin. She was certain she had heard a sound. Something from the other side of the door. She couched behind the bin, slowly and silently bringing the rifle around from her back into her arms. She kneeled in th position James had showed her, and pointed the gun directly at the door. Her heart seemed to go cold as another small nose confirmed that there was indeed something behind that door.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

James woke up gasping for air, there was something heavy and wet on top of him, crushing his body slowly as he struggled to breath. He tried to move and as he tensed his body to push whatever was on top of his away, his eyes flashed white hot with pain. It felt like every bone in his body had been broken. With a gasp he stopped, lying still until the throbbing pain faded. Slowly, James lay his head back down on the soft dirt. He would try again soon, but for now he would let himself drift back to sleep.

It was exactly 3:09 pm, about 20 minutes since Dean raided the gas station. He came at a fork in the road whilst driving through the forest and turned left, eventually making it onto the freeway where he drove around 35 mph. He made sure to never go above 40 when it came to driving on the freeway, a rule he refused to break. Music played from the truck's stereo, over time Dean collected a few CD's, some were mostly scratched, but only one or two were unable to function. The music calmed him and made him feel somewhat relaxed but to an extent, he couldn't help but feel tense no matter where he was. He lay his head back while watching the road, realizing he had been awake for what? 18 hours? Rest was important to Dean, his next priority would be to setup a safehouse he could stay at for the next few days, he had enough food to keep two people fed for a month if rationed. 2 weeks ago he had raided a supermarket, something he had only done twice before and only encountering 5 infected. When the thought came of where he would make his temporary home he preferred a cozy bed in the suburbs, the thought of it made him sleepy. He struggled to keep his eyes open for a moment.

He drove on for about 10 minutes before seeing a figure in the distance, sitting on the freeway. His eyes widened and his heart jumped: he could see headlights. Dean came to a slow stop about 50 yards from a black hummer, it's engine was running and the driver door was open. He sat, observing the area around him before opening the glove box, pulling out a black bandana and pilots goggles. If someone was in the hummer, they were either injured, infected, or dead, wearing the bandana and goggles was only a precaution, but one Dean made sure to follow anytime he planned to make contact with the infected. He put on the goggles and bandana, tucking the bandana into his shirt before hopping out of the truck leaving his engine running. He reached in the back for his spear. Although he usually used them as projectiles, he had a particular spear crafted from oak and sharp to the tip along with a rope attached so he could hold it over his shoulder, he maintained it regularly, it was a fast, strong and efficient weapon, one he admired.

Approaching the hummer slowly, a trail of blood could be seen from the drivers side leading to the front of the hummer, he couldn't see where it led as the vehicle obstructed his vision. He came up behind the vehicle and could hear a sound coming from the front, one he was all too familiar with. Dean walked slowly around the hummer in a defensive stance, his right hand gripping the top part of the spear and his left the bottom, along with a combat knife that had already been attached to his belt. To his dismay, he watched as an infected lay on its knees, eating away at a body. It was a weird feeling getting used to seeing something like this happen. After observing the creature he smacked the hood of the hummer with the bottom of the spear, immediately the creature turned, locking eyes, or, eye, with him. He had learned over the past year that after one of these creatures eats away at someone, they become enraged, faster and more bloodthirsty, but over time Dean developed a strategy for dealing with them in this state.

He prepared himself as the infected sprinted towards him with it's arms out, he grunted before impaling it's chest with his spear, lodging it inside. Holding the spear inside the creature's chest with his left hand, he reached for his knife using the right, plunging the knife into the creatures skull before kicking it to the floor. The creature lay still as Dean walked up and impaled it once more with his spear. He fell to one knee, breathing heavily as he gripped the spear that remained in the body of the infected. He felt wide awake now and couldn't help but feel sick, which was strange. He had done this more than a hundred times. Than again, maybe that was it.

Standing up and pulling the spear from the creature, he walked over to the body. It appeared to be a middle aged man, bald, his clothes were ripped to pieces and covered in his own blood. Dean grimaced as he slung his spear over his shoulder and turned to inspect the hummer. A truckers hat lay bloodied on the drivers seat and a pair of glasses hung from the mirror. A wave of sadness overcame him as he noticed a small photograph of a girl lay on top of the bloody hat. He placed the photo in his pocket, and realized the window of the car was shattered along with a stain of blood. Country music played from the radio at a low, distorted volume. Opening the backseat, a green army bag lay on the seat. Dean pulled it out, set it on the floor and opened it, his eyes lit up behind the goggles, the bag contained a hunting rifle equipped with a scope, a 9mm, and about 2 boxes of ammunition for both weapons. Zipping the bag up, he carried it with him to the truck and placed it in the backseat, then removed the bandana and goggles, placing them back in the glove box and pulling out a glue stick and a composition book labeled "Dean Armstrong,"

He flipped through the book filled with his own writing and photo's of random people until reaching the most recent page. He pulled out the picture of the small girl from his pocket, and began to glue it into the page, when he noticed that his hands were covered in blood. This was certainly not the first time Dean had seen blood, especially on himself, but the sick feeling came back. He put the journal and glue to the side and placed his head on the steering wheel for a moment before falling out of the car to his knees and began to throw up. Standing up, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, reluctantly entered the truck, and began driving, slowly around the hummer and bodies. He felt tired, not because he hadn't slept, but because of the life he was now living. He drove onward to the suburbs of Chicago.

"Tinned food? Check. Solar charger? Check. Other supplies? Check." Ryan was looking through his backpack for one last time. He was packing for days now, getting ready for the journey both mentally and physically.

The disaster hit his family - and every other human on the planet - by a complete shock. Fortunately for them, they were living in a small village, so it took those...creatures a few days to find them. They used this time to pack up everything they could and move to a safehouse.
It all went well until the monsters ambushed their home right at the day of their planned leaving. Ryan and his father fended them off until his mother and sister got in the car. However, they knew someone has to stay back and continue the defense, as the undead kept closing in. If they would've surrounded the car, it would've been all over. It was clear before Ryan that he was the one who needed to stay there - he knew his father will do a much better job at guarding the family. He wished him goodbye and ran into the bulk of the creatures with his blood-stained katana and pistol, weapons that he got from the nearby weapon shop a day ago. He managed to give enough time to his family to finally get away... Although he expected sure death, he somehow managed to stay alive and more importantly - unbitten. After that day, he swore to stay alive and fight with all the skills he has.

He managed to keep contact with his family throughout the days by phone. They safely reached their destination and Ryan knew he had to move really soon as well. Where? He didn't know. Just...away. Realizing he would be out of phone range very soon, he bid a final farewell to the family and promised that he will stay alive. His chances were very bleak, obviously, given his lack of physical training, but sitting still was much worse. After packing up everything left at home and arming himself with the two weapons and his phone, he stepped out of the house.

"The time is now...do or die."

A short silence descended upon them and Takiko remembered the first creature, the slow one, and realized it had vanished as they'd been engaged with its fellows. She scowled, looking around, and then staring intently at the forest where it had fallen into the bushes moments ago. Nothing. No rustling, nothing was moving and she couldn't hear its heavy breathing anymore either. She didn't believe that those things had any sense of danger. It definetly hadn't fled after seeing its companions dealt with. No. That it had vanished was not a good sign, not at all. She gulped, then turned around, heading around her car, one eye always searching her surroundings, one ear always at attention to pick up any possible sound indicating they'd get company.

She glanced at the younger girl before she opened the door of the passenger side, first putting on her dark-green cargo jacket, then grabbing the basket, leaving the backpack in there as well. She went to the back of the car, putting it down on the trunk, which was conveniently wide and at a good height. She grabbed her backpack, opening it and sorting around inside for a second, before putting it next to the basket and starting to shove several of the big waterbottles and as much rations inside as it could hold. Which was about half of what she'd originally managed to acquire.

Takiko zipped her backpack closed, slinging it over her shoulders and grabbed the basket again, walking over to the girl with the pixie haircut. She put it down in front of her and gestured towards it. "Take it. I can't carry it all and you likely saved my life just now, it's the least I can do." she said with a small, thankful smile, then turned around to the car again, getting in on the drivers side and reaching over to open the compartment box where she'd stored the map. Then another thought came to mind and she took the keys as well, putting the folded map in her jacket pocket and closing the door beihnd her out of habit as she got back out, she went to the trunk again, unlocking and opening it, her eyes searching and finding the indents on either side. In the left one was a the first-aid-kit she'd been looking for, still wrapped in foil and completely untouched. She grabbed it, closed the trunk and took off her backpack again, to sort around and push until it fit inside. Now she was glad that she'd decided to pay more for the backpack when she'd gotten it, a cheaper one most likely wouldn't be able to carry all that without ripping to pieces.

When she was done, she put her backpack back on and pulled the map out of her pocket, spreading it on the trunk. She let her fingers slide over it until she found the road she was on and followed it, until she found the place she thought herself to be. A mile down the road, it would cross a slightly bigger one and it would take some more to reach the suburbs she'd been heading for. She sighed, not too happy at the prospect of walking for hours and then having to find a safe spot to stay the night. But there was no way around it. She neatly folded the map back together and turned to her lifesaver. "Thank you, again. I've got to head that way," she gestured down the road. "I hope we meet again and I can return the favour. Stay safe until then." she finished her sentence in earnest, before turning around and starting to head down the road.

---

She had gone quite far, before she decided it was probably safer to continue following the road from a bit of a distance and go through the forest. She would be louder, but the bushes and trees swallowed most noises and anyone else would make just as much noise as herself. Takiko glanced behind her a few times, wondering whether the girl from before was heading the same way, or had probably followed her, but the glances she threw back didn't tell her much and she'd have to stop and look properly to make sure, since she'd definetly stumble if she turned her head for too long.

She sighed to herself again, something she hadn't been doing nearly as often before all of this had happened and wondered why she had avoided the girls company like that. Maybe someone to talk with would've been nice, but then again, sooner or later she would've had to leave her side. She couldn't get distracted from what she had decided to do. She'd go home, or anywhere she could think of and she'd find her parents. Alive. Anything else wasn't acceptable to her and she wouldn't even regard it as possible.

Her mind filled with such thoughts, she reached the bigger dirt road her smaller one was crossing, only realising she had arrived on it, when she felt the different ground under her feet, heard the crunch of stones and over all that the sound of a motor running and weels driving over the dirt really close to her. She looked up, standing in the middle of the road, eyes going wide at the sight of the big vehicle coming closer and she leaped forward hitting the ground as she rolled over her shoulder the way she had learned it, off the road on the opposite side, and into the bushes as the truck drove by. Her heart in her throat it took her a second to realize that despite humanity getting eradicated by infected creatures, she'd almost managed to get driven over by another of the very few survivors.

When her mind, and heart, calmed down a little, she sat up, hissing at the several cuts and bruises her stunt had earned her. Her hands were a mess, dirt and pebbles stuck in the wounds and burned so badly she had tears in her eyes. She could see her glasses lying on the road, seemingly fine. She cursed and got up, ignoring her aching limbs as she climbed out of the bushes and back onto the road, dirt and leaves clinging to her clothes. This really didn't seem to be her lucky day.

Zeo was in super high spirits having finished his three year vacation, quite a few miles from his stage in Chicago. He was on a carriage pulled by four strong horses, with three of his performing colleagues. The one to the right of him was Brock, the one behind and to the right was Seth, The one right behind him was Gerid.

"Wasn't those actors in texas just awesome, or what?" Zeo asked the guys.

"The main actor was certainly very dramatic, I thought the other actors were going to cower away, just because of the way that guy looked at them." Seth commented sarcastically.

The other two laughed loudly from the joke. It was like this all the time, they never really had anything bad to say about one another and even if they did they were always nice about it. The cart had a wooden storage chest that was packed with a lot of canned goods as well as some fruit, some hunting equipment and some blankets just in case they fell on hard times.

Zeo shook his pouch of coins that hung next to his daggers and sword, the first thing he planned to do was to go clothes shopping in his favorite shop as soon as he reached Chicago.

A few days later they arrived in Chicago and were cheering as they entered the city's walls. Minutes passed as they drove further and further into the city, they noticed one very strange thing.

There was no people.... Not just a person here or there, there was no one around at all.. What the... A ghost town, my home city is a ghost town?? He shook his head there was no way... This place was bustling with life last he saw...

Brock saw his face and added, "Maybe its those creatures I heard about once that go around stinging people, maybe they have scared everyone into hiding?"

Zeo considered but still didn't want to believe it, "Well I say we check this place out from top to bottom and see what we see..."

The other guys were in agreement with Zeo if not as confident as him.

They continued driving around and eventually reached the end of an alley where a fallen door caught Zeo's attention, "Guys I'm going to check this out, stay back and make sure no one takes off with the carriage." Noticing the guys accept his decision, he put a hand to his waist where his daggers were and advanced towards the door keeping an eye out for any surprises.

Jim hadn’t moved a muscle since he first heard the sound. It had gone quiet only momentarily before a scraping sound came from the door. Now all Jim could hear was the loud pounding of his heart after the scraping had stopped and then more silence. Jim’s eyebrow was perked up in confusion and then in worry. What if Al’ came back to find one of those Brutes waiting for her? She was the only one he had left and he couldn’t bear to lose her. All of a sudden a softer sound emanated through the ever so thin spaces in the door. He listened for a few seconds and then shuffled closer to the door as quietly as he could, accidently tapping an empty can with his toe. The sound stopped but by that time Jim’s curiosity had completely taken over and up the steep stairs he went. Jim could care less if what was out there was dangerous- he knew Al’ would be fine without him. It was obvious that he was a burden to her and not a day went by that she didn’t remind him of it. Unlatching the two posts stuck to the door, Jim placed both hands flat on the splintery wood and pushed up slowly. His bushy eyebrows peaked up through the door first, and then his tired eyes following. He didn’t see anything in his immediate surroundings so he pushed the door up even higher until half of his body was completely exposed. His eyes scanned more thoroughly this time, looking down either end of the alley and around the multiple bins that were either still standing or lying on its sides. He did a double take at a black object sticking out from the side of one of the bins. The object appeared to have a little movement, causing Jim to cower slightly back into the hole. But then he remembered the soft sound.

“Ello’?” He almost croaked. It had been a while since he’d spoken and his throat was already parched. “S’anyone there? I won’t hurt ya, I don’t even have a weapon. I mean, besides a spear at the bottom of ‘the cave,’ but I’d prob’ly break my neck tryin’ to get to it,” Jim rambled, placing the door fully back before showing his obvious empty hands.

(Deleted)

The sights on Kats gun centred over a scruffy beard, human eyes looked towards her. Kat felt like screaming and crying all at once, but she held back. Tightening her awkward grip on the rifle, she shuffled forward slightly so she could see who was there. She sucked in a big breath of air and tried to sound as grown up as possible, "Hey! I- I've a got a gun! Who are you?" to her dismay the big strong voice she'd been hoping for was more of a jagged, stuttering whimper. The person in the door was an old man, he looked like santa, only dirty and tired and old. His voice was deep and husky, sort of growly just like her granddads. He raised his hands, they were empty, just like he promised. Slowly Kat pushed the gun behind her, it nestled in its usual spot between her shoulder blades. Pushing back her shoulders and puffing out her chest, she stood up and stepped out from behind the bin. She was poised and ready to run, for a 7 year old Kat was pretty fast, and she knew she could beat this old man if she needed too. He hand nervously clutching the switchblade pocket knife hidden inside her jack, she took another step out of the shadows towards the man. Smiling excitedly at the sight of the first human aside from James she'd seen since the Scaries had come, Kat asked, "So.. why is your door on the ground of that hole?"

What came out from behind the bin wasn’t exactly what Jim had expected. It was a child, and this left Jim astonished. Was she by herself? How has she survived for so long? Maybe there are there others? Jim’s bushy eyebrows lowered and his O-shaped mouth broke into a kind grin. Before he could say anything, the girl questioned about the underground safe room. The man could barely get a word out; he was still so shocked to find another survivor, especially a very young one.

“It’s called a safe room,” he finally said, “It’s for emergencies in case of a natural disaster or... I guess for times like this,” the man chuckled. Had he come across this place before the outbreak, he would have thought whoever had made it was a paranoid. He would have never expected that he would be thanking them.

“What’s your name, young one? I do sure hope you’re not wandering alone,” Jim said in a friendly manner. He had no idea what this girl could have been through and he didn’t want to scare her off with his multiple questions.

It was 3:30 pm as Dean drove amongst the suburbs looking to setup a safehouse. A few of the creatures walked about the area, he called these stragglers, specifically because they acted mostly idle, and could be moved through quickly if one was quiet enough, but there was always the risk one would lash out unpredictably, enraging the others. He hadn't quite figured out what caused this yet, but that didn't matter much, what did matter is finding shelter. He drove slowly.

Dean had somewhat of a criteria when it came to finding a proper house, nothing out of the ordinary really, only that the house didn't have a second floor, and had a garage. After his friends at the cabin turned, he spent a month on the road before taking shelter in a house leaving his car parked outside, only to find it had been stolen the next morning. He would've starved if he hadn't taken some of his food inside with him. It would be difficult to find the house he wanted, as these were suburbs, but he didn't stop looking, and eventually realized he may have driven in a circle once or twice. One of the suburban homes would have to suffice, he drove among the houses and stragglers, none of them fit the description he was looking for. Pulling to the side of the road he looked to his right, and saw a house that didn't seem to be as big as the others, and appeared to be two stories, which made him feel more uneasy and tense than usual, but it would have to do.

As was routine, he put on the bandana and goggles, and opened the army bag that was in the backseat, pulling out a loaded 9mm. He wasn't very good at shooting, and didn't plan to use it, the gun was for a worst case scenario situation, if he used it, he would immediately leave the house and drive off to a different neighborhood. He turned off the engine and put the keys in his coat pocket, then exited the truck and grabbed the baseball bat from the back. If creatures inhabited the house, he would most likely find himself in tight spaces, and preferred a blunt weapon for such an occasion. Observing the area, there didn't appear to be any stragglers about. Dean flexed his arms and leaned against the truck for a moment. He forgot how sleepy he was and found himself struggling to keep his eyes open once more. Shaking his head, he decided the faster he got this over with, the faster he could setup. He made his way to the front door.

Dean had a very straightforward strategy when clearing houses, fast and efficient. He opened the door silently and walked right through the house in a defensive stance, gripping his baseball bat with both hands. A single creature stood beside a set of stairs facing the opposite direction. Dean made his way right to it and swung hard, hitting it's head causing it to fall to the floor, immediately he reached for the combat knife attached to his belt and impaled it's skull, then sheathed it and continued throughout the house. Entering the kitchen an infected began walking towards him before Dean swung for it's head, slamming it into the fridge. Blood splattered onto the fridge and counter as it fell to the floor and he again impaled it's skull with his knife. The first floor of the house was clear and so he made his way upstairs only to be met with another infected limping down the stairs reacting to the noise below. He was at a disadvantage due to the fact the creature was above him, and so he dropped the bat and pulled the creatures legs from under itself causing it to fall backwards onto the steps, Dean climbed onto the creature, holding it's neck with his left hand as he stabbed its skull with the knife in his right.

It was 3:56 pm now. The house was clear. Dean had carried the last of the bodies in the backyard before removing the goggles and banana, placing them on the bloody counter in the kitchen as he moved through the house and out to the front to take all of his belongings into his temporary home. As he walked outside, a straggler moved about in the distance, 50 yards away, limping very slowly towards him. He continued on cautiously. It only took two trips to get everything inside, the truck was empty. Dean spent the next few minutes hammering 4 pieces of wood around the perimeter of the house and connected them with several pieces of rope that dangled with tin cans and various bells, trinkets, anything that would make a noise. So far, no creature has made it past his makeshift alarms without ending up impaled, but as always he needed to test it. He stood on the front porch holding a wooden spear as the creature from before came closer. It's foot made contact with the rope as it moved over it, the entire row of objects began to shake loudly. The infected, suddenly enraged, sprinted towards Dean, who immediately threw the wooden spear inbetween the creatures eyes. It fell to the floor. Dean turned and walked into the safehouse.

4:10 pm. Dean setup various blankets and pillows throughout the living room. He preferred to sleep here as it was easier to hear his makeshift alarm if it were tripped. To his luck he had found a map of Chicago in the home, and sat in the middle of the blanket covered living room with a red marker, marking down various stores and what not he planned to raid later. A plate with a half eaten sandwich lay next to him along with a half empty water bottle, and his journal labeled with his name. He wore a pair of fitted light blue jeans and a long sleeve black flannel, along with all black sneakers that would soon outgrow him and a pair of fingerless gloves. Dean put his map and marker to the side, and lay his head down on a pillow, staring at the ceiling. He eventually dozed off.

Daylight was wasting, and Ezra decided it was time to make for home. Well, what passed for 'home' these days, anyway. Sliding good Mister Gibbon into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he walked softly down the steps. Making his way north along the pavement he gave one last, longing look at the Art Institute. The structure seemed to be holding up quite well without maintenance, and he wondered idly just how long it would say standing. Another five years? Ten? Would it outlive Humanity? He certainly thought not. Humans had survived all kinds of horrific things- he was quite confident that somebody would make it through alright. He hoped made it, too. Not that he was counting on it.

Cutting east across Millennium Park, Ezra set his eyes upon some of the glorious remains of old Chicago- Crown Fountain, Cloud Gate, Harris Theater. Upon reaching storied Lakeshore Drive, he struck north. He saw no evidence of monstrosities, and while pleasantly surprised, he was also rather bored. After passing some time in silence he began to sing softly to himself. It was a song of his youth- he recalled owning the album on vinyl at one point. Maybe.

“She said she was a magic mamma...” he began, atrociously off-key. She threw a mean tarot... She carried on without a comma... That she was someone I should know...”

And so on, for a several boring miles up the road. In time, he saw his destination looming ahead- Wrigley Field.

Ah, but suddenly his day was not so boring.

Up ahead, a little under one yards away, a bloated monstrosity stalked back and forth near an overturned hotdog cart. It had once been a human being, presumably. What remained of its clothes, a T-shirt and what might have been khaki shorts, clung to its massive frame. Its three arms were immensely unsettling. Ducking behind a truck, Ezra frantically drew his revolver from its holster. Double checking the cylinder- it was fully loaded- he swung it back into the frame and uttered a hurried Hail Mary. After taking a moment to steel his resolve he sprung to his feet.

“Coma commala, freak!”

Barrel thundering, he fired twice.

And missed. Dammit! Dammit!

Sighting its prey, the creature grunted loudly and charged headlong toward the former professor. Ezra, now very near to panicking, thumbed back the hammer and fired a third shot. And a forth. And a fifth. The monstrosity tumbled to the road. One of the bullets (he could not be sure which) had met its mark. Ezra heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

“Jesus,” he said aloud, still breathing rapidly, “Why am I such a God-awful shot?”

After taking a moment to empty the spent casings and reload, and another moment to search the monster's pockets (Hm, cellphone, quarters.. Hey look, a lighter!), he continued up the road to Wrigley Field. Finally passing through the gateway- and locking it behind him- and climbed up into the bleachers. Thankfully his cache of assorted junk, secreted under the seating, was untouched. Kneeling down, he brought forth a battery powered heating coil and great big hookah pipe.

After that excitement, he reasoned that he had earned another smoke.