Another lazy, unassuming day has begun. However along with the sun is the rising threat of the Infection that is slowly consuming all of the area around. Many citizens of the town have already succumbed to the Infection and now roam the streets and buildings as the walking dead. Their hunger is all that they can think about, and they are feral. A group of Uninfected still exist in the town, and their survival is anything but certain. Military forces have been dispatched, but their ETA to this town is still unknown.
Local News Reports have gotten wind of this menace and are currently relaying important information that can help the citizens stay alive, if only for a little while. However, there's no guarantee that they'll be on the air for very long.
Charles Drake, 20, resides in his parents' home in the south east of town. He lives two houses away from the library in a split-level home. His room is cramped, posters lining the walls and a strange odor fills the room, like most rooms of boys his age. In his room are the normal things teenagers would possess; comic books, a ragged old dresser where his clothing is kept, a small closet. There are two bathrooms, one full, and one half with just a toilet and a sink. There is a television in the house and a video game console as well. The Infected are near. In fact if he looked out of his window he might see them feasting on his elderly neighbor from across the street who had just wandered outside to get the newspaper, as per his daily routine. His rebuilt hip was operating fine, but old legs just can't quite move the way they used to.
Two middle aged Infected are currently feasting on his entrails on his front porch in broad daylight. There are a few other scattered Infected on the street, noticed by their stereotypical meandering. Some may even be performing the stereotypical "dead leg drag". A few are wounded from previous encounters - nothing Charles shouldn't be able to handle if he were to arm himself.
Charles' initial inventory consists of his school backpack and any other supplies he would have with him and find around the house.
The Post Office is playing a lite FM station which unfortunately plays the top 20 pop songs over and over again. In a few moments the music quickly stops and static fills the radio. A generic EAS message will play on loop telling him to tune to dial to an AM channel to hear the play-by-play news reports.
Inside of the Post Office are the normal things - folded boxes, tape, markers, scales, and tons and tons of wrapped up packages that were apparently abandoned in a hurry. Blood is smeared on the walls and floor a little bit. Maybe even some chunks of disregarded flesh. Better forget about those things. There are bins of unopened letters as well, but it's unlikely that any of them hold anything other than letters, bills, or magazine subscriptions. Nathan can see outside into the streets to see a few straggling Infected wandering around absent-mindedly. There's a back door to the office that they use for deliveries and sending out mail, but when he entered the Post Office forty-five minutes ago he checked it to see that it was shut tightly. He didn't notice a lock on the door, so he is unsure if it even locks at all. He has a good view of the front of the building from behind the desk, where he currently is camping out.
He may have tucked some things from his home into his pack before he left home, however he was limited by whatever was able to fit into the pack. Nathan's wife had a small handgun she had kept for protection from a burglary that haunted her as a child. It holds a clip of twelve bullets, one of which was now spent in the ending of two lives. It is up to him whether or not he took it with him. She kept no spare bullets in the home.
For both of these Uninfected, it was going to be a very long day.
Edited by Valor, 25 May 2010 - 10:08 AM.
