Days Since Outbreak: 27
Samantha Tallow // Chicago, Illinois (Cloudy)
Samantha was sitting in the rear cargo area of an abandoned box truck, her back pressed up against the corrugated steel wall, a slight chill managing to reach her despite the ragged jacket she wore. This had been where she had spent the night, the truck having offered a scant sense of safety when there was none to be found elsewhere. By sheer chance the company sold mattresses and so the truck had been filled with many soft things for the girl to sleep atop of, something which had only served to evoked a yearning for when sleeping within a bed was an act so often taken for granted. Deeper down it was a longing for home, for her own sheets and blankets. Sam pushed aside these lingering thoughts of sentimentality, having more pressing concerns to attend to that day.
Namely finding her father.
Sam had been with her father when the outbreak took hold of the city. He worked for some company whose name she had never bothered to commit to memory and had been in Chicago on a business trip. Sam, his only daughter, had tagged along, something she had often done in the past when school was not in session. They had been lucky to have been well enough away when the attack occurred but had become stranded in the city due to the airport’s then temporary closure. The two had stayed at a nice hotel for little over a week, waiting for things to simply blow over.
They never did.
After the riots and the breakdown of the government quarantine the two had tried to leave the city, something more easily said than done. Samantha was quite fortunate to even be alive, having had the protection of her father for so long, but now the pair had become separated after having encountered a group of those things. Sam couldn’t help but shudder at the mere thought. They did, however, have a plan in case something like this were to happen, a meetup spot, but getting there had been slow going for the girl given her own difficulties. She had to take even more care traversing the city streets and today would be no different.
The girl stood, using a small flashlight to see her way around the inside of the truck, gathering what few belongings she had: an anime backpack with some granola bars, batteries, a radio (useless to her), a pocket knife she had nicked from some store, and a sketchpad with various pencil colours. Aside from a t-shirt and black leggings (with a denim skirt overtop and fuzzy boots) she had the jacket her father had given her only days beforehand, army style with faded olive fabric and oversized enough to dwarf her already thin frame.
Everything packed and ready to go, the girl steeled herself and slowly opened the truck bed.
There was nothing outside – that she could see in any case. Cautious, she hopped down and quickly made her way to the edge of the street, having learned to avoid the center when at all possible. Checking her surroundings one last time she continued on her way.
