OUTBREAK (Sandbox/Survival/Horror - IC / ALWAYS OPEN)

[Beiarusia]

• OOC •
-| The Pub: a P2tM RP Group |-
OUTBREAK: A Survival RP | OUTBREAK (2017)


(Banner by Hastur.)

T H E M E
•|[ Map of Chicago ]|•

---

---

It happened so suddenly, the beginning of the end.

Millions have been infected,
the victims of a new plague unlike anything before witnessed in the history of mankind.
A deadly contagion that, withing weeks, has brought the most powerful nation to its knees.
Quarantine has long since failed;
countless have died, and many more have been consumed by the ravage of illness.
Others have suffered a worse fate.
Now, in the aftermath of ruin, a new dawn is soon upon us.
For those fortunate enough to have survived, by fate or sheer determination, things will never be the same.

No help is coming.

No safety exists.

Will you, a survivor in the twilight of human civilization, discover the truth of out death;
or will you succumb to the infection?

---

---

DAY 25
Saturday, August 13, 2016
69°F (21°C) - Cloudy

---

SAMANTHA TALLOW
Liz's Pet Shop, Chicago

The girl had spent the night sleeping in a dog's kennel. Admittedly, it was quite comfortable, more-so than a regular bed what with the abundance of blankets and soft bedding, and while not for the claustrophobic the plastic walls did give a much needed sense of safety when outside there was none to be found. There was even a restroom nearby with functional plumbing! Had there been food the girl could maybe justify staying a bit longer, but, no matter how safe or comfortable she was, there were more pressing concerns that had to be addressed before the coming day was out.

Namely, finding her father.

Her father was a CFO for a multinational corporation and had been in the United States on business. Samantha, his only daughter, had accompanied him as she had many times before when not in school. They had been on their way to the airport to leave for home when the attacks happened, although it wasn't until much later that the girl was privileged to the knowledge of just how bad the situation had become, and by then it was already too late. Her father, however, was optimistic even as civilization fell to pieces around them, but if he truly was hopeful, or else lying for the sake of his beloved daughter, Samantha would never know. He'd never tell. As for where he was now, the night before yesterday they had been separated by those things while attempting to find a safe passage out of the city. They had a plan, a place to meet-up should something like this occur, but given the state of the city it had been a slow and difficult journey for the girl, especially so as her disability forced her to be more considerate of her surroundings. Still, she couldn't be too far now, and no doubt her father was awaiting her. Maybe his optimism had worked in the end.

Samantha crawled out from the kennel and stretched, feeling a bit exposed in the darkened store but otherwise having no cause for alarm. The pet store had escaped the devastation caused by the riots and subsequent looting. A broken window and a slight mess in one aisle, but the registers and safe looked to be locked, and, better still, no animals were sold here, meaning that Samantha could explore without contending with the thought of having to find those poor creatures dead in their cages. (A few unfortunate goldfish were floating bottoms-up in cloudy water but that was the worse of it.) A thorough search of the store had turned up nothing of use or importance, a discarded adjustable wrench being the most of it, and after doing her best to lock the door to the manager's office she had fashioned herself a bed for the night. Now it was simply a matter of making certain she had everything before leaving.

Her backpack was sitting atop the kennel and hadn't been touched. A paranoid thought to be sure but one couldn't be too careful given all that had happened in the past few weeks. Inside it were some granola bars, a portable radio (which was useless to her), a flashlight with spare batteries, a sketchpad, and some spare clothing. Samantha considered changing into something more fresh. Her T-shirt and leggings were dirty, and she'd gone longer than she'd like without changing her underwear. She could also use a shower if she was at all honest with herself. It had been almost a week now and she was entirely self-conscious about her less-than-pleasant body odor. The grime was bothering her.

Throwing a blanket inside with the wrench she'd found, Samantha zipped up, slid the backpack over her shoulder, and cautiously made her way out from the little office. The empty store greeted her. She made a quick round through the aisles, mindful of the glass, before detouring to the restroom. She washed her face and stared at her reflection for a moment. Blue-green eyes stared back. Her hair was tangled, limp, and somehow less blond than it had been a few days ago. Her smile was crooked and in need of a toothbrush.

CVS. There was a pharmacy nearby, attached to the pet store but on the opposite side of the block. A toothbrush and deodorant.

Samantha nodded to herself, finding no harm in delaying her search for a minute or two so as to attend to some personal needs. She set off for the storefront, pausing to consider a can of dog food, eyeing it for a long moment as her stomach growled in support of such a desperate idea. Unsure of whether she could even eat such foodstuffs, she passed and promised herself to search the pharmacy for food as well. A snack would do.

Just a little while longer.

The front of the store was mostly intact other than the aforementioned window. That aside, it looked almost ready to open for business for the day. Inviting compared to the devastation of outside. The street was desolate and more than a bit foreboding. Not as bad as downtown had been, but Samantha was reluctant nonetheless to leave the safety of the pet shop, Liz's Pet Shop according to the sign, an unusual beacon of safety in a sea of troubles. Steeling herself, she stepped up to the broken window, glass shards cracking unknowingly beneath her feet, and slowly peered outside like a meerkat poking its head up from a burrow. Nothing but the lonely echo of what had once been. Cautious, she emerged from the store and took stock of her situation.

She wasn't very confident in herself, but, regardless, she had to push ahead. She'd come this far so she allowed her father's optimism to give her hope and thus determination, and slowly she made her way down the street towards the intersection, eyes wide and alert for any danger that may well sneak up upon her. The only lasting concern was if she was heading in the right direction. Samantha couldn't see Willis Tower from here.

Maybe the CVS would have a map. She'd check and go from there. One problem at a time.

---

DEAD AIR RADIO — 107.1 FM

"Good morning Chicago!

This is Mr. Dead Air, and for those of you just now tuning in this is 107.1 FM, Dead Air Radio, bringing you the latest news and music because, and let's be honest here, the apocalypse sucks, absolutely, totally, dreadfully boring with a capital 'B,' so allow me to make it a little less so. It is my privileged, no, my honor in being your ultra-fabulous host.

Looking outside I see clouds so expect a cloudy day. Slight chance of rain. Maybe. What do I know? The weatherman's dead out back so your guess is as good as mine. Now, for the daily news. Let's see here. Yeah, everything is still dead as fuck. No change-"

. . .

"Yeah, I can say whatever I want to. Who's gonna stop me? The FCC? Hah!

Sorry folks. A technical difficulty on my end. Nothing to say, so let's get on with the tunes. Alright, so, what do we have for your listening pleasure. Junk. Garbage. Absolute garbage. I apologize, but my selection at the moment is slim to fuck-all. Hey, if you, my darling listeners, come across any spare CDs, cassettes, or 8-tracks, feel free to bring 'em down to the station. Ah! A little old, but I feel that it suits our inaugural broadcast just nicely. Here's The End of the World by R.E.M. Enjoy."

[Anowa]

DAY 25
Saturday, August 13, 2016
69°F (21°C) - Cloudy

---

SARAH KONIG
BUDDY
CVS, Chicago

SAMANTHA TALLOW

Things had been quiet the last few days. The only thing that really came to Sarah's ears where the sounds that Buddy made, the rumble of the CDC owned Ram's engine, and the distant sound of screams and muffled gunfire as people fought for their lives. THough in the passenger seatm Buddy perked up, spotting something that she didn't. Her eyes followed his gaze, a CVS... wait no, a pet store. Sarah couldn't help but chuckle, Buddy might've been a bit smarter than the average dog, but the domestication was still there. Pet store still meant food to the little guy. And as her gaze turned to that of the CVS, she realized that while alive and healthy, the duo were transmission vectors. Meaning they'd need face masks of some sort, well, at least she did. Buddy understood well enough what it meant if he licked or bit someone.

As she keyed the diesel engine off and coasted into the parking lot. The front windows of the CVS smashed and frankly a threat to her tires. Her brakes squeaked a bit as she stopped. The sound of Buddy popping open his side and hopping out echoing through the air as Sarah put the vehicle in park.

Sarah followed her canine compadre out of the vehicle, though noticing he was rather silent and still near the entrance, ears full forward, eyes locked on something. Buddy knew something was there that Sarah frankly didn't.

Sarah paused and pulled her pistol from it's holster on her belt, flicking the safety off and readying it, "Lead me to 'em Buddy."

The dog lead the way, striding into the store, he slowed as he wandered down to the entrance of one of the aisles. He paused at the entrance, eyes locking on something and his tail drifting downwards, standard posture for a dog to worry. Sarah slowly idled up beside him, her eyes following his and spotting a girl, back towards her and slowly walking down the aisle. Sarah took aim at the girl's head, before hesitating for a moment. What if she wasn't infected?

Sarah whistled, no answer.

Her aim didn't waver, but her finger was no longer reaching for the trigger. Instead, she knelt down, picking up an empty tin can, she tossed it at the girl, mising but still skittering across the ground within her view.

Sarah simply waited for her to turn around, or pause, or react in some way.

[Arengin Union]

Samuel Griggs
CVS pharmacy. 121 W Kinzie St, Chicago, IL 60610, USA.

So quiet, so very quiet. It was weird just how such a metropolitan giant had become into a silent grave of nothing but walking corpses and crazy's that would kill you and eat you at the first sight, not on that order. For Samuel it was weird to simply be able to walk up to any shelve and grab whatever he wanted, no rules to stop him and no cameras to detect the wrongdoing, but was it even wrongdoing? All what was left was just empty packages of generic medicine, magazines no one would ever read, and some spoil food products on what used to be a full lit freezer area.

The entire place was absent of any interior lighting, only the slight sun glares that would go come through the windows would serve as the only source of light other than a flashlight. Samuel kept looking aisle after aisle, again just garbage pilled onto another and the rest of the shelves all left clean. He needed to find something, he needed food, anything that could give them a push. His bag had some cans of food but those were too valuable to waste, he wanted to make sure nothing would go loose. It was so weird still, how empty the city was, quiet and peaceful as birds chirped outside on a largely cloudy morning, some sun shinning through the clouds only to be hidden away by them.

Samuel kept his shotgun on his right hand as he used his left to set aside anything of no use on the shelves. The empty generic drug packs falling onto the ground as he skimmed through them with his hand. It was useless, nothing was left. Samuel began to make his way out of the last aisle, and then out of the corner of his eye he saw it on the ground right underneath a shelve, a yellow plastic bag with red markings similar to Lay's chips. He strapped his shotgun on his back and like a kid in a birthday party he jumped to see what this bag was. He grabbed it and pulled it out and lo and behold an unopened bag of Lay's. Samuel couldn't hold the smile as he rose from the floor and made his way to the employees lounge. Passing through the aisle Samuel went through one door with the sign of "Authorized Personnel Only" and then stopped at another door left of the hallway.

He lightly approached it and knocked three continuous times and after a short paused another set of three knocks could be heard from the other side of the door. Relieved Samuel entered the unlocked door, revealing a sort of improvised camp. With a small makeshift fireplace and the desks being used as tents for the sleeping Ian. Samuel entered the door, his wife Jessie holding on the M1911 pistol with a shaky hand. Samuel closed the door with a lock behind him and quickly approached Jessie to lightly take the gun off her delicate hands. The two then kissed, their mounts interlocking passionately as both held onto each other with care. They didn't need to say anything, it was clear what both of them felt.

After the kiss, Samuel held up the bag of chips onto Jessie, she smiled innocently as she took them and moved back to sit alongside her sleeping son. Samuel set the m1911 back on his holster on his belt and set the shotgun on the table nearby. The employee lounge had served as a nice hideout the last two days, with the pharmacy looted and a truck crashed right through the entrance it was not likely that anyone would come in, and even then the lounge had a backdoor leading out to the storage room which led to outside, a good place to lay low. Samuel sat right across his wife, he then began to blow air to the small fireplace, the smoke leading out to a vent right on top it was a good way to keep the smoke from suffocating them during the night and keep a light source without having to sacrifice the flashlights.

Jessie began to lightly shake Ian to wake him up. The child opened his eyes to see the familiar gentle face of his mother and the rugged bearded face of his father. He smiled at both of them, Jessie carried him up and sat him right besides him, showing him the bag of chips the child had a visible smile. Jessie opened the bag to reveal the inside, it was filled with delicious chips and Jessie took one to give it to Ian who ate it quickly. Both began to eat, with Samuel simply looking from across the small fireplace, Jessie then made a gesture to her husband, inviting him to eat, he lightly shook his head. It didn't matter to him if he ate today or tomorrow, what mattered was them. Samuel rested his back on the desk standing as obstacle to the door and closed his eyes for a few seconds, hearing the sounds of his wife and child eating away. But with worry still in his mind Samuel kept a tight hold of the holstered pistol as he readied himself to pull it out the minute he heard trouble, but inside this room it was hard to do so, they had to move today. But he wouldn't force them to leave yet, at least give them both a few hours to get ready.

[Beiarusia]

SAMANTHA TALLOW
CVS, Chicago Avenue, Chicago, IL

The CVS was empty. No people, and heavily looted by rioters, but a few things had been overlooked. Some bandages were left on the counter, the nearby cash register torn open and the money inside stolen. Not what she was looking for but bandages were good to have. Prepared for anything. Yeah, that was a good reason.

Surprisingly, there was some toothpaste to be found, a decent amount, most of it the basic mint flavour, as well as a toothbrush that hadn't been opened. The little detour was already proving advantageous. All Samantha needed now was some deodorant. That would be harder to find. The store was a mess, trashed, and nothing that remained was where it should be. It was as if someone had made a mess for the sake of doing so. Maybe they had. No blood that she could see so that ruled out a struggle. No bodies.

She shivered at the thought. The memory. Stumbling across the remains of someone ravaged by those monsters.

Her father had tried to shield her away from the worst of it, to keep her innocence, but she wasn't a child, and she wasn't as oblivious as he'd have liked her to be. Not anymore. A quick glance was all it took to tarnish blissful ignorance.

Samantha continued walking down the broken aisles. Looking for deodorant or whatever else she could find, forcing the thought of the half-eaten man back down to where it wouldn't trouble her any longer. She couldn't dwell on it. Keep moving. Find what I need and get to Willis Tower. Yeah, that was the plan, a good plan, and she could do it even if she was alone. She was too preoccupied to notice the woman behind her, gun aimed at her head, and quite obviously she couldn't hear the whistle, her deaf ears betraying her in her moment of distraction. She did see the can rolling down at her feet, and curiosity naturally turned her eye, and then she saw the woman and the dog and the gun held high. Samantha yelped in panic and tried to scramble away down another aisle, but lost her footing on the junk. She fell, and on her hands and knees scurried behind an empty shelf.

Her heart was beating fast enough to pound against the inside of her rib cage, but she wasn't dead. The woman hadn't tried to shoot her, nor had she tried to eat her like those things. The first person she'd seen in days. Paranoia said to run, to hide, or that she'd be dead in the next sixty seconds. Her naivety said to trust the woman as much as she'd trust a stranger.

She could have killed me.

The woman had had the opportunity, yet, instead, she revealed herself as opposed to coming up from behind. There was a dog, too, a big German Shepard, and it hadn't come yet to tear out her throat. Maybe they were okay.

Maybe.

Not that Samantha had much of an escape. The only exit was behind the woman. Undoubtedly there was an emergency exit somewhere, and Samantha was a fast runner, but she couldn't outrun the dog, or gun. She had to hope that whoever this was was friendly and not interested in robbing a teenaged girl lost far, far away from home. Optimistic. Be optimistic. Not everyone was out to get her. She just had to believe that everything would work out okay.

Samantha peeked, saw the woman and dog, and quickly ducked back into cover. She worked her backpack loose and quickly scribbled a message in her sketchpad in messy lettering. She peeked again, holding the paper so that it could be seen.

What do you want?

She tapped at her mouth and then her ear, assuming the woman would understand her disability.

Code: Select all

Bandages +4

[Anowa]

SAMANTHA TALLOW
CVS, Chicago Avenue, Chicago, IL

What do you want?

She tapped at her mouth and then her ear, assuming the woman would understand her disability.

SARAH KONIG
BUDDY
CVS, Chicago Avenue, Chicago

She wasn't infected. As the girl turned, Sarah's gun lowered after a moment. Before promptly jumping as the girl fell over, making quite the racket. Sarah's hand immediately went to the universal sign for 'quiet', a single finger over her lips as she looked down at Buddy. Nothing notable, except his ears were turning and he was sniffing the ground.

Sarah looked back over the the girl, who happened to be writing something down.

What do you want?

'A lot of things, Kid.'. Sarah took a step forward, but as she did, Buddy's mouth closed around her forearm, gently, though hard enough to make her pause. he let go and look up at her, tongue barely sticking out of his mouth. And then Sarah's eyes widened for a moment, before looking back at the kid. Her eyes softened, as she looked around for those masks. Instead she found a single bandage. Sliding her gun back into it's holster, she proceeded to take the rather dusty bandage and wrap a rather impromptu face mask around her mouth and nose.

With that done, she approached the girl, Buddy soon wandering off to look for random stuff.

She knelt down to be with the girl, taking the pen and notepad when offered.

Food, water, to survive. Maybe a safe place to sleep.
Me and Buddy (the dog) are transmission vectors, so treat us like AIDS patients.
What's your name?

As Sarah handed the notepad back to girl, she fished around her neck for a rather dated relic, producing the stamped set of plates she'd kept after her service. Giving the girl a look at who she was.

KONIG, SARAH U.
419-624-378, O-
CATHOLIC

With that, the elder of the two gave a comforting smile to the likely deaf girl, sadly covered up by the bandage mask she wore.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

DAY 25
Penthouse, Autumn Ridge Apartments, Chicago
Crystal Wu

Crystal huddled herself inside the penthouse, atop the apartment across the street, near the park. Her security team fled the penthouse already and escaped from her presence. No amount of money can be use to pay them up when they cannot escape the city. She should've bailed out and back to Taiwan, but there is no way she'd left the city without her fiancee on tow. He should be saved, the last contact with him was during his occupation. Some kind of Atlas-related, and evacuation-related. She better planned her next plan from here. Penthouse is fine and safe, but that's very dangerous to go outside without some preparation. Luckily, the penthouse has an emergency stairs that can be used in this time, which led to the back alley of the apartment. Sounds tiring, but that needs to be done.

She scrounged up the penthouse of hers, finding several things left by Lee. A backpack. A military-grade ration and the utensils, should be good. A flashlight, but no batteries. A pepper spray and a bottle of water from the fridge. Fridge's dead, but not with the water. The last thing is a handgun. She touched it before, at least knew how to handle the gun. But she never use it or even firing with it. Some said it was because she had the protection of either her Atlas fiancee or her security team, which may or may not be true and which she regretted.

She opened the door of her penthouse, looked to the both sides. No sights of anything or anyone, so far. She opened up her emergency stairs door slowly and soon made her way downstairs. It took her two rest periods to reached the first floor, but she also immensely exhausted. Should've been prepared more for this.

[Tayner]

Luke LaForge
Chicago
Day 25

He hadn't slept the night before, being too hungry to sleep, even after eating his last provisions, half a pack of dry and stale crackers. He spent a couple days looking for food, although he took care to avoid any of the infected that would stand in his way. His shotgun would wake up the city, and he didn't have the ammo or energy to do any real fighting. To make matters worse, he ran out of menthols just as fast as he ran out of food, worsening his mood. He tried not to drag his feet as he trekked through the streets looking for potential places to loot.

His eyes caught the sight of the drug store, a CVS to be exact. He entered the store, propping the door open to allow more sunlight in to dawn the aisles of the store. It didn't take long for him to find a can of cat food, the only foodstuff present, and he mentally sighed as he took a hold of the tab on top of the can and pulled it open, the scent of wet chicken and slime filling his nose. He had to give the company who made the food credit, it still tasted better than MREs, but that wasn't really saying much.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans, and withdrew his water canteen. He took a sip before realizing there were only a few drops left at best. Open a door and the window closes. Damnit. He thought as he continued his looting of the store, weapon raised now as he ventured into the back. No infected, no survivors, no food. After a thorough search he found nothing more than some disinfectant and alcohol (although he promptly discarded the PBR, as much as he wanted to get wasted right now), and he re-examined the bathroom again.

He looked into the mirror, dirt and grime smuged over his clothes and face, his black unkempt hair draping down and a scruffy beard growing in. If one were acute enough in their observations they could notice a certain paleness to his face, or the bags under his eyes. He leaned on the sink, slouched over after observing himself for a second, and curiously turned the cold water handle to the sink. He smiled as some water, of questionable quality, came through.

LaForge, as a country folk, never did trust city water, but he didn't have the luxury of caring right now. He filled up his canteen and proceeded to drink as much as he could from it before topping it off again. He then proceeded to wash his hands and face, and even his feet before he dried them off and changed out his socks, discarding the old ones. By now his stomach felt a little twisted, but he'd live. If cats could eat human food, then humans could stomach cat food, right?

He shrugged off the thought and felt the fatigue catch up with him. He sighed, and exited the bathroom to see if he could find anything else useful in the store before moving on. He didn't get four feet out of the gentlemen's room before hearing the unmistakable sound of an engine, accompanied by the squeaking of breaks as it slowed down and cut off. Just about 100 thoughts flashed though Luke's mind before he simply ducked down in the aisles. Then he heard faint footsteps and caught a shadow in the corner of his eye.

Too soon to be the person with the vehicle, he hadn't even heard a door slam yet. (Although it wasn't long until he did.)

In a minute he heard light footfalls, his heart pumping now. A whistle resonated though the store, directed at someone that wasn't LaForge. A rattling and a scuffle, and Luke rounded a corner to take in the scene. A kid, a dog, and a woman having an exchange, the type without weapons involved. They no doubt noticed Luke as the three turned to see him. He quickly clicked the safety on his weapon on before removing his right hand from the pistol grip, holding out an open palm. These were the first people he'd seen in weeks.

"Fri-" he croaked before clearing out his throat, having not spoken in days, accompanied with the tobacco abuse he'd been committing.

"Friendly." He finally said, hoping he wouldn't find himself with a bullet hole or two in his skull.

[Sulania]

Angela Rus
Day 25
Episcopal Church, 48 N Hoyne Ave Chicago

One small can of beans, that was Angela's allotted rations for the day. Of course, it's easy to allot rations when the only person eating them is herself, though the measure of self-control to only eat such a small amount for one day. Angela tasted the baked beans, the sweet taste of brown sugar with a hint of hickory smoked bacon. "A sophisticated taste for a more sophisticated time" she whispered to herself in the middle of the lonely pew in the ever lonely church. She took another spoon full after another, unfortunately all of it blurring itself to satisfy her hunger, her mind focused on sating her survival needs than savoring that taste that, not too long ago, would have been just par of the course of all the various foods.

She raised from the pew, upon finishing her bowl, leaving it at the seat. Removing herself from the row, she walked up towards the pulpit. She took one longing look at it, from where she used to spread the Word, and did her work in the world. She had to wrestle herself from that momentary daze and recollect herself. She had taken stock prior, and she was getting low on food and water, and thus would need to go out in search of some. Unlike the good ole days, can't order anything on Amazon anymore. She wanted to get more supplies for things like medical purposes and entertainment anyway, watching Armageddon outside gets old pretty fast, surprisingly, and aside from the occasional tempted looter that needed scaring away, she was incredibly bored with herself.

While she didn't know the area extensively well, being from Pennsylvania, she still had become a little acquainted with the area. There was a CVS not too far to the north of her, so she could start there for some basic supplies and work her way around the local area, probably at least get a map of the city from there. While she would make a shopping list, she found it quite easy to remember what she needed. She found it peculiar, but she could think through a lot of things since the outbreak. Perhaps it was God's way of looking out for her, or maybe she had some hidden potential that the outbreak unlocked, much of that didn't phase as much as it did when she first noticed.

She snatched her leather jacket hanging at the end of the pew she used as a bed, as well as holstered her two trusty pistols. Granted, she couldn't dual wield like in one of those ultra-violent video games the kids played, but it looked a little more intimidating to have two on her at once and it gave her a backup in case one ran out and she needed a quick remedy for that. After getting herself all together, she exited through the back door where she was the least likely to draw attention to the church, locking it behind her, and making her way north to the CVS.

She began her trek from Hoyne Ave to the CVS near Westem, occasionally ducking into cover and avoiding infected and cutting through buildings to shorten the trip and avoid the occasional congregation of infected.

[Walabam]

Lynn Matsubara
Matsubara's Apartment
Chiacago
Day 25, Saturday

It's the end of the world as we know it. It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine!

"Ugh."

Lynn groaned as her radio alarm clock started to blare the chorus of R.E.M's 'It's the End of the World'. Opening her eyes, she pushed her quilt cover aside, scoffing at the irony of the song that was playing on the radio. Lynn shook her head before climbing out of bed, opening her window and curtains for some fresh air - except, the air wasn't really fresh. Stale, was a better word for the air. Lynn frowned as the sun shone into her apartment, lighting it up. Almost immediately, the windows were slid shut. Lynn turned back to look at her apartment, before turning back to look outside: a stark contrast it was.

As a forensic pathologist, Lynn had seen her fair share of cadavers; victims of homicides, arson, and suicide. However, she couldn't really fathom what she had seen after the attacks. Afraid as she was, Lynn was also curious. She aspired to perform an autopsy on one of them, but she knew that it would be close to impossible.

Lynn's stomach growled. Loudly. It had been days since she'd eaten. She didn't store any canned food for herself, and regretted deeply her choice to become an advocate of fresh food products. On the day of the attacks, the supermarkets had been swept clean by forward-thinkers, leaving Lynn with nothing but fruits in her refrigerator. A dilemma appeared in Lynn's thoughts; to starve to death, or to venture out to seek food and supplies. The CVS. The pharmacy was but a few minutes' walk away, and Lynn hurriedly changed, grabbing her backpack before rushing out of the apartment.

Carefully pushing the frame of the apartment building's glass door open, Lynn glanced around nervously, landing gentle footsteps. The pharmacy was not far, but was not too near either. She was horrified by what she saw, stopping to put on a pair of nitrile gloves, making sure that anything she touched would not have a chance to infect her. With every step she took, came a stronger feeling of fear within her. A random groan, coupled with her heightened senses of fear, sent her sprinting towards the pharmacy. She wanted to scream, but she knew she would only attract unwanted attention.

It was only a matter of minutes before Lynn arrived outside the store. She turned to look around, walking backwards into the CVS store, oblivious to the presence of several other beings that were already inside the store. Lynn slowly turned, and upon the sight of the individuals, jumped in shock, holding both her hands up. "Ahhh! I'm...help me...please!"

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Nancy Kirksey
Loyola University
Mertz Hall

A soft crest of sunlight fell from the heavens, glancing off of Nancy Kirksey’s window and blinding her cold, bitter eyes. She winced, swallowing and leaning her head against the wall to shield herself from any more harmful rays that may pounce her sight. It was the twenty-fifth morning that she was brought back into the land of the living by shrill screeches and a trepidation of commands.

The three girls she had been rooming with were the only other inhabitants of Mertz Hall now, staying over for the Summer so they could work on finding themselves as well as avoiding the search for their parents. Such drama seemed unimportant now; Nancy, in her haze of early wake, rolled out of her bed and stumbled into the empty bed across from her. Monica had been sleeping there; she had complained about needing somebody else in the room with her two weeks ago, and Nancy had been volunteered for the position. She croaked out a gravelly yawn, stepping away from the empty bed and approaching the room’s desk. In her peripheral hearing, the muffled noise of infuriated yelling came to mind, but she was already fumbling for her phone and inhaler resting on the desk. As she stuffed the importants into her pocket, a wicked creaking of the dorm door shook the dark room about. Nancy spun around only to be greeted by the panicked face of Gretchen; a redheaded girl with dotted freckles all about her rosy cheeks and nose. She was friendly enough, and a bit of a chatterbox had Nancy said so herself. Yet Gretchen didn’t seem available for a talk right now. She looked over Nancy, eyes widened and sweat beaming across her speckled forehead. “Nance, we gotta go.” She spoke, the words accentuated by shaky huffs of breath.

Nancy looked over the scared girl with curiosity. “What? What’s going on?” Her mouth was left agape as she reached behind her and picked up her hat; she didn’t bother trying to conceal any form of nakedness on her, due to her now sleeping in her jeans and shirt clothes in case of a situation like this. Gretchen reached out, grabbing Nancy’s wrist with her bony fingers. “We need to go now, they’re in!” The fear in Gretchen’s voice pulled a wretched grunt from Nancy’s throat, pulling her hand away from Gretchen’s grip. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Gretchen stepped back, glancing at Nancy one last time before taking off back into the hallway.

They’re in could only mean one thing, of course. Somehow the infected had discovered them or been let in by a third-party and now the girls were royally fucked. The voices outside became clearer now; Liz and Monica yelling at another group of voices that were screaming back. Nancy slipped into her sneakers before stepping out of her door, never to return.

“Fuck you! You fucking killed us! You fucking killed us!” Nancy would recognize the blonde headed Liz’s high-pitched accusations from anywhere. She stared down the hallway, taking note of the three boys and one new girl, the girl clutching onto an incredibly sickly looking man. Monica was also there, a black girl with clouded brown eyes that were rolling in their sockets. Nancy’s throat began to clutch at breaths, hitching on her own spit and clenching lungs. “Wha, what?!” She stammered, glancing over the group and walking towards them. Gretchen had already returned to the crew of fighters, standing behind Monica and quivering. “What the fuck?! The- the fuck?!” Nancy whimpered, before she heard the bashing from down the hallway. Something behind the door at the end of the hallway; only way out now was through the window. And they needed to go, soon.

***

Clement Willoughby
Washington Elementary School
The Front Doors
School’s Out Forever

The school didn’t look like much, as far as he could see. A few empty shells of cars littered the parking lot, either broken or lacking their keys. Clement Willoughby adjusted his glasses, tightening his grip on the baseball bat at his side. He had left the safety of his apartment in search of food and other survivors but lacked the discovery of any of said items. He would have avoided this elementary school as well had he not heard what sounded like somebody actually speaking. The disjointed nature of the muffled speech would normally alarm him, but it had been too long since he saw a person who wasn’t attempting to feast on the contents of his flesh.

With all said and done, he swallowed hard and clutched the door handle with his free hand. Clement was nervous, of course. What would he even say to the person behind those doors? There was so much yet so little he could say. He pursed his lips, before attempting to pull the doors open and enter the facility. It was always worth a shot.

***

Officer Ruby Almanza
Chicago Juvenile Intervention Support Center
Squad Car

Ruby Almanza wouldn’t dare turn on her siren.

As much as she would have loved to get the boy’s attention, it was unlikely to do much of anything for the two of them except cause a mass to descend and pick their bones. She watched him intently, the boy walking under the sign designating the Intervention Center. She had been sitting in her squad car for the last few hours listening to the radio. She didn’t receive much signals from much of anybody now. There was an SOS signal from a high school nearby, a couple of soldiers trapped in by infected. Ruby had planned to head there later when she had more manpower. How long that would take her, she didn’t know. She tried not to worry herself with them too much, focusing on either the music playing from that guy who called his station Dead Air Radio or looking for any police broadcasts. It had mostly been silence for a while now. She knew that using the radio so much would run her battery down, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of batteries all of a sudden.

And then there was that kid walking along all by himself. Ruby watched him, the boy obviously not an infected person. Frowning, she bit the bullet and shoved her door open.

The kid immediately turned his head, staring into the parking lot of the Intervention Center. She waved him over, the kid looking side to side for a quick foray of his surroundings, then jogged towards her. He seemed nervous, yet perhaps glad. Probably since she was a cop. She looked him over, glaring. “Oh my God.” The kid muttered, amazed at even the prospect of just having found another person; much less an authority figure like a cop. “You alright? You don’t look too good.”

The kid grimaced. “...yeah.”

Ruby returned the frown, her’s more pitious. “What’s your name, dude?”

“Samuel.”

Ruby smirked, leaning against her side of the police car. “I’m Officer Almanza. I mean, my first name is Ruby. I haven’t seen a friendly face in a while.”

“Me neither.”

“What are you doing around here?”

“I dunno. Trying to find a safe place.”

“Yeah? Just your luck. I’m thinking about heading into that Intervention Center, seeing if it’s safe. Been waiting out here for a while, scoping things out. Haven’t noticed much until you came around.”

“Oh.”

Ruby looked around, climbing back into the car and unlocking the passenger door. “Hurry, get in before an infected sees you.” Samuel followed suit, taking his backpack off and placing it at his feet as he sat down and shut his door. “Alright. You just take a rest for a minute. You’ve been walking for a while?” Samuel nodded nervously at this, looking up at the officer. “Yeah. Walked from UCHI to here.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “No shit? You didn’t… get infected, did you?” Samuel shook his head. “No! No, I’m not infected!”

“Right. Sorry. I…” She thought for a minute, looking over the boy, before opening her mouth. “Were you attending?”

“No. Touring. I’m from downstate, but I came up here with a friend. I’m just… I’m just really tired now. Sorry.”

Ruby looked him over, before guessing that questions weren’t perhaps the best motive to keeping this kid with her. She looked at the empty backseat before returning to the boy. “No, no. My fault for interrogating you. If you want, I can unlock the backseat and you can take a rest back there.”

“I… you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Not like I’m arresting anybody anytime soon anyways.”

A friendship had blossomed; somewhat.

***

Mawuli Jackson
Liz’s Pet Shop
CVS Pharmacy

His suit was dirty.

Jackie had gotten into a struggle with an infected just a bit before, ending in said infected getting a bullet flung into its head. However, a tiny bit of blood had coated his shoes and pants annoyingly and dirt had dusted along his jacket. He groaned, approaching the CVS in a fervor to find Band-Aids for the minor cuts and bruises he had earned during his altercation.

Jackie’s previously smoking barrel was now tightly wound to his leg by his belt, a briefcase hanging from his right hand. He certainly thought he looked quite lawyerly, as best as he could given the circumstances. Nobody would expect him to be a criminal who had gunned down two motherfuckers that had crossed him. The murders were justified in his mind; but he was smart enough to know that some people didn’t see criminals in such a bright light, especially after the collapse of society.

He entered the CVS, his dress shoes immediately squeaking on the floor. He looked around, first seeing the woman screaming for help and surrending to nobody he could in particular see. "Fuck's your problem?" He asked with an eyebrow raise and a tone of annoyance, reaching to his belt in case she was one of the "crazies." He looked at her, grimacing and tensing up. "Whoa, whoa, fuckin' calm down bitch, you tryin' to get us killed?!" He approached her from behind and extended a hand to stop her, still unsure of what she was screaming at.

***

Isaiah Thompson
ALDI, N Broadway
Front Doors
Food for Thought

The doors were the easy part of this operation.

Isaiah had figured the entire part of this operation would be the easy part. Most of the stores he had encountered in the last few days he had just been able to waltz in and take whatever the hell he wanted. So, why would this little ALDI be any different at all? Isaiah should never have underestimated the will of a deeply angered old man.

The doors opened for him as he walked up, sliding apart to provide him entrance into this great land. He stepped in, frowning with a pistol in his hand and glancing back and forth. He did manage to make a few scans of the area before noticing the second most important part of the room; a pool of blood, spreading under an empty rack of what was once bread. Isaiah winced, following the partially dried blood to a corpse that just so happened to be leaning against the top of the wall. The top half of his head was gone, revealing skull, teeth, brain, and a torn tongue resting upon the meat soup of a melon this man once had. His hands were in contorted positions, a product of twitching nerves spreading through him.

Isaiah didn’t get this much time to think about the corpse, because the most important part of the room had begun to reveal itself to him. “Yo, what the fu-” He exclaimed upon seeing the decaying body, but was interrupted when he saw the old man with a shotgun aimed at his chest. ”Oh shit!” Isaiah screamed, making haste as the old man fired. He was a good way across the store, having taken cover behind a register counter and taking potshots at whoever entered. Isaiah was just lucky the potshot missed him. The shot shattered the shutting automatic doors, preventing them from ever finishing their close. Isaiah jumped behind a rack, firing two shots off at the man but missing both. He hastily took cover behind a shelf of chips, hiding as best as he could from the psycho. ”GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY STORE!” A scream echoed throughout, Isaiah’s breaths growing heavy and quick.

This was perhaps the very definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place.

[Huntpublic]

Zachary Cash
343 W Wolf Point Apartments
Floor 2

Zachary had awoken turned over and vomited. He vomited all over his carpet. But it wasn't food vomit more like liquid vomit. He also had a pounding headache. He looked up to see a three bud light beer cans on his nightstand. Behind it, however, was two more. What was I doing last night? he thought, he stood up quickly trying to get his bearings, but that was a bad idea. Blood rushed to his head and made his headache worse his vision was all weird and he felt dizzy. He leaned on the wall adjacent to him waiting for his head rush to be over. It was painful but it lasted for a few seconds.

The only thing he had to drink yesterday was beer. No water. Zach smacked his lips, he was parched and he started to look around for water, but there was none. "Damn," he said to himself. He knew that he would need to leave the safety of his apartment and delve into the infested halls of his apartment. He needed water and he needed food. While putting on his running shoes(he knew he needed to run sooner or later) he heard raspy breathing outside of his door. He hurriedly put on both of his shoes and looked through the hole. He saw a person, but it wasn't a person. The skin was greyish, its eyes sunken and it's mouth full of pus and blood. The blood was very dark and the creature was holding an arm in its hand.

He looked around for his trench knife. It was an eight-inch long black knife with a bronze-knuckles as the handles and spikes on the end of them. Once he had found it he quietly opened his door. He looked to his right and then to his left. On his left, the Zach saw the zombie, it was eerily standing still staring at him. The infected let out a deep, raspy growl and started running towards Zach. He brought up his trench knife and delivered a right hook into the jaw of the infected. He broke the law, whether because it was a good punch or because the bones were decaying he didn't know nor did he care. Anyways, the jaw of the infected dropped on the floor and it became enraged running at him without any care for its body. He stabbed the zombie with vigor. Thus killing it. "Nasty..." he said. And he walked cautiously through the dark halls of the apartment building.

---

He exited the building and found a street full of abandoned cars and infected people walking aimlessly around. He was heading to his restaurant, "Cash's Food Eatery" was the name of it. He walked into his restaurant, everything was relatively still intact, he didn't notice anything missing at least nothing that he could remember. There were water bottles, some unopened, canned tomato paste, canned fruits, meat(but it was thawed out and smelling very bad) and that was about it. So Zach grabbed what he could and made his way back to his apartment.

On his way to his apartment, he knew he needed bandages and first-aid kits and he saw a CVS station coming up. He decided to enter the CVS and get what was left.

He walked in. The store was very quiet, unnaturally quiet. He looked throughout the multiple rows of shelves that would have been full of items. But almost nothing of use was there for him. Just by a quick glance, there was no first aid kits, no Advil, nothing from what he could see. But after going through each shelf as thoroughly as possible, he found two Advil packages and three gauze pads. Along with large adhesive bandages. It was good until he looked over to see three bodies, two of them were on top of a third person. Their heads were bowed over and in jagged motions, they pulled away from the body and then coming back in. They were eating the body. Zach could have taken them on but it would have been hard, so he thought better of it. He backed away slowly. But he backed into a shelf knocking something over. But he didn't have time to figure out what it was. The two infected looked up and ran towards Zach, he barely had enough time to pull out his trench knife and attempt to stab the zombie closest towards him but he missed. Every second they got closer to him. With all of his might, he swung backward and he then slit the throat of the one closest to him.

After knocking the first one down he pulls a low Muy Thai leg kick the other zombie thus dislocating its knee. The zombie fell down and once it was on the ground he smashed its head in by kicking it hard multiple times. While his adrenaline was still pumping he grabbed what he could and ran out of the door. Embarking on his long run back to his apartment.

[Relikai]

Sun Yunri
Day 24

Log 16

It has been twenty four days from my counting. The phone was turned off for two days as the battery needed recharging, and it’s hard setting up the panels under an overcast sky. Telecommunications are still down, as well as the internet. Only some radios work if one could tap into the correct frequency, but that doesn’t help everyone much. No one could reach another even if they knew where to meet, for the streets are roaming, random infected moving about and creeping upon the unsuspecting scavenger.

Everywhere is dangerous. I spent the past few days scavenging, but have come to realise how useless it is with so many other roaming gangs on the streets. Being alone is dangerous, but being in a group could be worse. How does one know if a group of men on edge could be trusted, when desperation finally takes over and they turn their eyes on the only woman around? Therefore I still strike off alone, offering whatever assistance I can to those who try to survive. I do not stay put in one location for long, seeking only running water and whatever foods that's easy to prepare.

Self-tip #16 - Water is life. Soups fill one up even if it's cold. Water helps to clean oneself, and provide a base for cooking. One has to keep clean and nourished, otherwise if the infected don't claim you, the bug bites will.

The smartphone flickered off as she packed it back into her backpack, the solar charger also folding up as she slotted her equipment back into her backpack. The salty water leftover in the can of tuna was mixed with some from her own pack, lessening the thirst it would inflict upon herself while serving as an additional filler after a meal of some bread and fish. While canned food would last for some time, perishables would go bad quickly, and would be best used as foods before they went to waste.

The aluminum bar was still holding strong, Yunri managing to grab it from her gym when the infected started bursting through. Of course, it wasn't the toughest of bars, but with her basic skills in Tae Kwan Do learnt back in Korea during her childhood, she could use it well enough although it was too heavy for her to do spins with it. Thrusting and swinging would do for now as long as it was enough to keep an infected away, and knocking it against tough surfaces was a quick way to spoil the bar.

She was in one of Chicago's many apartments, one of those which has been thoroughly looted before she arrived. The bed was still in relatively good condition though, which helped to soothe her aching body after days of scavenging through rubble, of running from infected creatures, and fighting off both infected and humans who decided that they would make a meal out of her in their own nefarious ways. She has no firearms, despite the urging of her brothers to get one to defend herself. Being in the US not as a resident but as a work permit holder, it would have taken longer to gain access to a gun holding permit, but the time needed for Yunri to get used to a firearm was something the collapse of order denied her from having. Perhaps it was something she should have gotten earlier, but hindsight was always 20/20.

Food. She needed more of it. That and water. Perhaps during this trip she'd encounter an unlucky person with supplies, the path to those essentials made easier by the infected. Cruel, she knew, but necessary until she could actually find an official safe zone with rations enough to keep her alive. She knew that she could bargain with some men for supplies but... she has not fallen low enough to offer her body in exchange for food and protection, for who knows, even accidents might happen during the exchange of goods and services...

"Okay. Let's go." She said to herself, using her voice as a means to coordinate her thoughts. Speaking was crucial, for keeping silent for too long could render one's vocal muscles weak. The door creaked open as she stepped out armed with her pole, the woman dressed in her gym attire, the Activewear shirt and pants leaving few loose garments to get caught onto something, allowing her to access openings as tight as her body would allow. It was a random search, headed in no particular direction. She could memorize her pathing, but the lack of Google Maps had her at a severe disadvantage.

[New Finnish Republic]

Austin Erickson
Day 25
Wrigley Field

---

Austin paused as he neared the entrance to the stadium, taking a few seconds to gaze at the sign above before muttering the words out loud to himself.

"Wrigley Field, Home of the Chicago Cubs."

The sign itself remarkably was still kept intact, probably the only thing in all of Chicago that was. Around him, shattered glass, dead bodies, and spent shell casings littered the floor. It was crazy to think that not even a month ago he had been here with his buddies enjoying a simple game of baseball. After all this time of wanting to go watch the Cubs play, it had to be the first time I go that the world decided to shit itself, he thought to himself. He could still remember that day, everyone cheering, passing around beers, singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" during the seventh inning stretch, and then cheering along to "Go Cubs Go" as the win flag was proudly raised. If it hadn't been for the world going to shit, it would've likely been one of the fondest memories of his life.

But the world did go to shit, and now he was standing in what remained of it. He let out a small sigh of frustration, about to move on to somewhere a lot less dangerous than here when all of a sudden a voice called out to him. Austin snapped around, bat placed firmly in his hands, as the sight of a middle aged man wearing a Cubs jersey greeted him. The man gave him a meak smile, before motioning for him to approach.Austin glanced around, unsure of what to do. This could very well be a trap he was being lead into, and while he might have been able to bash in the brains of anyone or anything who got too close, he stood no chance against someone using a firearm against him. On the other hand, however, if this guy wanted him dead he doubted he would've bothered to call out for him and would've instead just put a bullet into the back of his head while he wasn't looking.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he made his choice as he walked cautiously towards the strange man.

"You realize that most people would've probably shot your ass doing that, right?"

The strange man let out a dry chuckle.

"And you realize that most people would've shot your dumbass while you were staring at that sign, right?"

Austin crossed his arms, his bat displayed prominently in his hands as he stared down at the man.

"Fair point, but they better hope they don't miss."

A small grin appeared on the man's face, causing Austin to become even more nervous.

"It's a good thing that the infected can't use guns then, I guess, for what I'm about to ask you to do."

Austin raised an eyebrow, curious as to what in the hell this man was trying to ask of him. The man reached out his hand for a handshake, and after a few hesitant moments Austin reached out with his own and shook his hand.

"Name's Leonard. Based on what you're wearing, I can see you too are an avid Cubs fan, which will make this all the more interesting for you."

"Austin. And what exactly is it that you're wanting me to do?"

As their hands went apart, Leonard's grin widened.

"Well, I'm sure you're fully aware that a bat signed by certain former player named Ernie Banks is still present in that stadium, correct?"

Austin shrugged.

"I've no idea. If they weren't able to get it out in time before the Guard set up shop there, I suppose it's buried away somewhere in there."

Leonard nodded his head.

"Oh trust me, it's in there. Don't ask how I learned this, but it's supposedly locked inside a safe within the office portion of the stadium."

He pointed a finger at Austin's chest.

"And you, my burly looking boy, will go and retrieve it for me. Of course, with a handsome reward after you do."

Austin's eyes narrowed as he looked at Leonard, unsure if the man was serious or not. He knew damn well that that place was swarming with infected, and going through all of that for a measly baseball bat. Glancing at the stadium behind them, he shook his head.

"You're crazy man. No bat is worth all that trouble, even if it's signed by Mr. Sunshine."

Leonard sighed, dropping the backpack that was strapped on behind him. Opening up the flap, the sight of food, ammunition, and other miscellaneous items were inside. Austin raised an eyebrow at the man.

"It's crazy, I know, but I got to get this bat. This world's gone to shit, and if I can just have one thing to remind of the times before everything went crazy, I would be eternally grateful. Everything in this bag will be yours, and plus I'll owe you a major favor. I can tell by your accent you aren't from these parts, and in these days knowledge is power. All you got to do is just sneak past those infected, nab the bat, bring it back to me, and you can be on your way with all these goodies and more."

He reached out his hand once more, a pleading look on his face.

"So what do you say, Austin? Will you let me have just a little bit of happiness in this shithole?"

Austin paused, unsure of what to do. What this guy was asking for was crazy and beyond dangerous. But he was running low on rations, and God knew he didn't know his way around this city. And plus, Leonard appeared to almost be in tears at this point, a sign that this bat really did mean something to him. Scratching the back of his neck, he let out a groan as he reached out to shake his hand.

"Okay, I'm in. But you better honor that promise for what I'm going to have to do."

A jolt of pure joy and excitement lit up Leonard's face as he quickly nodded his head.

"I promise you, I'll be here waiting with your goodies once you return."

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small key and handed it to Austin.

"You'll need this to get inside the vault. Don't ask where I got it, because trust me, you don't want to know. Once you get it, haul ass back here. I'll be waiting in the bar here across the street. Play your cards right, and you won't have to even deal with the infected if you're quiet enough. But if you do find yourself in trouble, I can tell that you shouldn't have much issue bashing in those fuckers' skulls.

Austin looked at the key in his hand for a few moments before placing it in his own jean pocket. Looking back at Leonard, he spoke up once more.

"Sure you don't want to tag along? Might be some cool stuff in there you'll want as well."

Leonard raised his arms up, shaking his head before patting his belly which nearly poked out from his jersey.

"I'm afraid my fat ass will only serve as a full course meal for the infected. Nah, I'm going to wait it out here. I'll make sure to have the streets cleared out of any of the fuckers before you get here, though."

Austin nodded, as he had expected just as much from this man. Turning around to where the main entrance was for the stadium, he shot Leonard once last glance as he began to walk.

"Stay safe, you fat bastard."

Leonard gave him a weak grin, a look that spelled out worry on his face as he did.

"You too, you fucking ginger."

[Arengin Union]

Samuel Griggs
CVS pharmacy. 121 W Kinzie St, Chicago, IL 60610, USA.

Both Jessie and Ian with something in their bellies, it was time for the trio to move on. Samuel readying with his backpack and Jessie with her own, keeping Ian close to her and with a blanket covering him to keep him warm. Samuel had his pistol holstered and ready and with his shotgun in hand he set the fire off with his boot as his wife and child prepared to head out into the world. Before Jessie opened the door Samuel was able to stop her, shaking his head to her, she didn't know who or what had roamed inside the pharmacy during the time they had been resting.

Samuel gestured her to stay in the room and Jessie did as she was indicated, dropping down to Ian and keeping him tightly in her arms. Samuel carefully opened the door, exiting quietly and watching every step as he moved along the corridor leading out into the aisle, his shotgun aimed at the front as he moved forward. He could hear garbling sounds as he closed in to the door leading to the aisles, along with a slight whimpering.

Samuel carefully approached the door and opened ever so slightly so that he could see what was happening out in the store. He was greeted to the sight of a man being eaten alive by two of those things, his body still moving as they tore into his flesh and ate to their hearts content. Samuel looked at the man, he was not older than maybe 40, graying balding hair and regular survivor clothes, a crowbar on the floor which had served him to no avail when dealing with the undead. The man turned his eyes towards the slightly opened door, his eyes looking directly through the gap, right through Samuel's eyes, trying to utter the words "Kill me."

Samuel only watched, silent and with little will to do anything, he had a family to take care of and he wouldn't risk a death over ending the misery of someone he didn't know, if anything he provided a good chance for them to escape through the back. He closed the door again leaving the man to his end and headed to the lounge, Jessie still keeping her child on her arms Samuel entered the door and quickly moved the desk back against the door to serve as a blockade.

"What did you see? Is it safe?" Jessie asked, trying to keep a very low voice.

Samuel kept silent for a few seconds, trying to forget what he had just done. He turned to Jessie and lightly touched her cheek, her skin soft and delicate compared to his rough and bearded complexion. She set her own hand on her husbands face, caressing his beard and keeping a pretty smile contrasting to his largely emotionless expression.

"No where in this city is safe. We have to get out soon, lets go through the back." Samuel said, grabbing Jessie's hand and leading her out to the back door, closing it behind him. Jessie kept Ian in her arms as the two entered an alleyway that would lead them back to the street. In the alley there were several exploded cars and burnt corpses, Jessie covered Ian's face so he would not look as Samuel advanced forward with his shotgun ready in had. Keeping caution at every single step he took, careful on every corner and keeping eyes on his wife carrying his child. The family made it through the empty alleyway and into the street, the entrance of the pharmacy right across the corner, the street filled with broken and burnt cars, bodies of both the undead and the living who had died in the fighting. Down on the opposite side of the street Samuel could see undead roaming, aimlessly and with no purpose but to consume. The husband directed his family back towards the corner leading to the entrance of the pharmacy, he had no intention to head back to that place but they would have to go around.

Keeping his shotgun ready Samuel and Jessie both moved towards the corner, as Samuel moved away from the corner and into the street he suddenly bummed not into an undead, but a fellow survivor. An African American man who seemed to be in an awful hurry, Samuel didn't hesitate to raise his shotgun and aim it straight at the mans chest.

"Back up!" Samuel said, trying to keep a quiet voice but anger was apparent in his tone.

[Huntpublic]

Zachary Cash
Outside of a CVS Pharmacy


Zachary was just about to run all the way home. He wanted to avoid as many infected as he could, he was so intent on getting home that he didn't notice two people in an alleyway. But before he could react he heard one of them say, "Back up!". The voice was calm but dominating, a stern deep voice, it almost startled him. Zach turned to look at the people, the one who said "back up" was holding up a shotgun, while there were two others behind him, one of them he didn't notice. A woman holding on to her young son and a man with a beard, family Zach thought. But he backed up like the man said, he backed up all the way to a crashed car, bumping into it. He tried to hide his trench knife as discreetly as he could, and bumping into the car makes hiding the knife look as natural as possible. He quickly raised his hands up above his head, he didn't want to die, at least not today. Though it would be better to have a quick death than being eaten alive by a creature in a slow and painful death.

"Hey, hey, look, man, I mean you no harm. Nor your family. I-I'm Zachary Cash, you could call me Zach or Cash," he paused for a second to see what their reaction was going to be, but before they could do anything, "I'm just telling you my name so I could earn your trust," he grimaced, he thought that this situation was pretty awkward, not to mention that he could have his head blown off any second. "Maybe?" he said. He looked around to see a few infected heading their way. Maybe the commotion from the sound attracted them to the small group.

"Yeah, I guess right now is not the time for introductions, we have a few of those creatures headed our way, so could you like, maybe point the death-gun at them and not me?", he slowly pulled out his knife trying not to make any sudden moves. He was prepared to fight those monsters . . .

[New Grestin]

DAY 25
Saturday, August 13, 2016 | Rago Brothers Funeral Homes | Western Ave and Erie

The day began like most others had for the past week. Carol slept, crammed into the back corner of an office, which itself was crammed into the back corner of a Funeral Home. Her watch had died a day before, but her body knew right when five was coming around. The meek, thinning woman rose to her feet, taking the jacket she'd been using as a blanket and slipping it back on. The room was chilly; she wrapped her arms around herself as she gathered her things. The Funeral Home had been a shelter for the last few days, having been largely saved from damage by virtue of it's inhabitants already being dead. The biters didn't seem to go after things that were long dead. Her accommodations were morbid, but for now they had kept her alive.

The office was the kind that looked like it used to be a broom closet before being repurposed. A cheap file cabinet, a scratched up wooden desk and a broken rolling chair sat surrounded by a clutter of soiled cardboard boxes and paper. She figured that the chemicals they'd likely been storing in here before were shaving a few years off her life, but she didn't mind. If circumstances were anything to go by, it wasn't like she'd need the extra time. She snatched the handgun off the desk and stuffed it in her pocket before heading out. The rest of the building was eerily untouched by the chaos outside. The main lobby had even been prepared for a wake just before the attack. The coffin was empty, but the neatly aligned folding chairs and the smiling photos made her hair stand on end. At first she'd tried to be respectful, try and maybe clean up some poor dead grandmother's wake that never came, but it reminded her too much of home. A lot of things reminded her too much of home.

She'd barred up the morgue proper the first day, of course. Even with towels stuffed into the creases of the door, the unmistakable smell of human decay was still perfectly detectable. That shouldn't bother her by now, she thought, but then again it was hard to get used to death, even when it was all around you. As she strolled into the back, she made a mental checklist of her plan. The plan, if it could even be called that, was to head up to the next intersection and figure it out from there. That was the plan for every day, of course. Move from one intersection to the next, day by day, slowly, methodically, until she found a reliable way to get out of the city. Or at least somewhere secure enough that she could truly call home.

Out the back she went, slowly edging the door into the alley open until she was sure the coast was clear. Quietly, she slipped a pocket knife out of her pants and started walking. Chicago was a nightmare to get around even before the living dead. With the L likely destroyed or out of power and cars too loud to get around safely, she was reduced to creeping through back alleys like a rat. The air was perpetually choked with smog, a mix of fire and ash whipped up from the blazes that ran out of control. A medical mask was strapped to Carol's face almost immediately. It barely filtered ragweed, but it kept enough of the smog out of her mouth to keep her from coughing and drawing attention.

Less than a few minutes in and Carol cracked a smile. Up ahead, there was a coffee shop. The back door was caved in, a smear of blood across the wall nearby. Crouching low, she moved in and peeked inside. The shop was ruined, chairs overturned and the shutters facing the street broken. A body was sprawled out over the counter, with a biter digging into their neck. Carol swept in, coming up behind the creature. It ripped at the dead man's face, peeling bits of it away and snarling like an animal. It had been a woman before, she knew that for sure. Bright bleached blonde pigtails stained with blood, ripped in some places to reveal the torn scalp beneath. Just a torn open shirt and a pair of pants, leaving her unmentionables free and open to the world. Carol grimaced, held her breath, and rammed her foot into the woman's knee. It screamed at her, tumbling to the ground and cracking her head against the counter. The man's body slumped forwards, falling and pinning it to the ground as it flailed, grasping for her. With an almost serene calmness, Carol grabbed the woman's hair and slipped the knife into her throat.

With the dirty business over with, the aging nurse began to rummage through the shop. Unsurprisingly, most of the food had gone off. What was pleasantly surprising was that the coffee had been largely untouched. At least she'd have some creature comforts once she figured out this whole surviving the end of the world thing. She smiled, slipping a bag of some high end hipster espresso into her bag. Just as she did, movement across the street caught her eye. Down to the floor she went, nearly slipping on the distended flesh of the dead man nearby. Inch by inch, she poked her head back out to see a pharmacy across the road. There was no way to be sure, but she felt in her gut that what she'd seen was a person. Someone walking into that building. Carol worked her way over to one of the coffee shop's broken windows and sat, waiting. She'd only ever seen one other person alive in the last week, and she wasn't keen on repeating that encounter.

Instead, she stayed low, and waited. She pulled the pistol from her pocket and gripped it tightly.

---

Code: Select all

Coffee +1

[The Grand Rift]

Shaun Wilds
Day 25
Loyola University
Mertz Hall


“Fuck you! You fucking killed us! You fucking killed us!”, were the only words Shaun could take from the barrage of expletives coming from the small group of girls in Mertz Hall. Whatever else they were saying Shaun wasn't listening. He was seemingly locked in a trance focused solely on Marcus' right calf, which was currently gushing blood from 10 inches by 6 inches bite wound. Even as Lindsey and Clyde began to fire straight back to the girls, yelling our reasoning mixed with equally heinous expletives and incomprehensible panic, Shaun simply stared with the words around him being muffled. He racked his mind thinking of the implications of this bite, what he has to do next, how he will survive, how is he going to have to get rid of Marcus if the time comes, and just the sheer panic of the whole ordeal. A slow but steady rise of lightheadedness began to hit him until Shaun finally snapped "Everybody Shut the fuck up"


"I personally couldn't give a shit right now that I crashed your Girl Scouts Lock-In." Shaun exclaimed while pointing at the girls. "Right now whether you like it or not we are in this together, and because of your shrill yelling there's going to be a lot coming." he continued. The unknown group of girls went silent.

Shaun started again "We have a couple options right now, either escape through the windows or fight our way out, and with the state of my friend I rather not do the latter."

He took a large breath "We are all going to die here if we sit down and argue hysterics...if anyone has any bright ideas tell me now, or me and my group will be out those windows with or without you, taking whatever we can fit in our backpacks in less than ten minutes...you understand me."

Shaun stepped back for a moment letting the silence of the hall hang, all that could be heard was the slow and shuffling infected meandering their way over to the breached Mertz hall. He looked at the girls, probably sophomores, they looked terrified mostly in the direction of Marcus, and my friends did as well except it was towards me.

Lindsey spoke up first saying "Shaun calm the fuck down. We broke into this groups safehouse stop being such an asshole, or you will be the one we leave."

Shaun had a spike of anger until it simmered. He sighed and said, "Fine...fine." Looking towards the girls he calmly stated, "Alright guys here's the deal, I'm sorry but we obviously don't have time to exchange insurance information, so let's agree and say whether we like it or not, in order to survive we have to work together."

Marcus let out a small moan as his sweating became noticeable "My friend here had an accident, he was uh" Shaun took a noticeable pause "Well...bitten, but he'll be just fine as long as we get him out of here."

"Alright, are we good? If so let's get to getting the fuck out of here."

[Ubaria]

Leon Joseph Byrne
August 13th, 2016
Ukrainian Village, Downtown Chicago

A warm and tranquil breeze trickled down the abandoned avenues of what used to be Chicago, rustling the treetops and scuttling litter across the skies like a flock of dancing birds. The sights and sounds that were familiar to the urban chaos of downtown Chicago were now eerily absent and replaced only by an uneasy silence, occasionally broken by the crack of a distant gunshot or explosion some-way off in the distance, indicating that there were indeed some lucky - or unlucky - few still alive in the city. Otherwise, the streets were absent of recent human activity for block after block, every street and avenue a similar picture of the carnage that had unfolded during the panic; cars and vans strewn around haphazardly clogged the roads, some had been in obvious accidents where they had mounted the pavement, striking lamp-posts, fire hydrants and other sidewalk clutter. Others had just been left where they lay, doors and trunks still open and many with belongings still remaining inside. Occasionally there were the odd signs of a fight that had went down, apparent by the coating of empty bullet casings and stains of dried blood on the concrete, nearby surfaces adorned with bullet holes suggested that many had died here, with no corpses left behind, it could only be assumed that they had long since turned.

Ukrainian Village. Just another borough in Chicago which had fared no better than any other, a heavily touristy district with many restaurants, cafe's and eateries to fulfill a plethora of culinary tastes. Leon had come here in the hopes of scavenging some still edible and somewhat nutritious food as energy bars could only carry him so far. The man had been fortuitous in his endeavors to survive this long, scavenging by night and resting by day, his lack of food situation had forced him to venture out to see if he could find something - anything - to rest his uneasy stomach. Every building he had checked thus far had turned up nil, only rotten scraps of food that would do more harm than good, it seemed many had the same idea as him and had cleaned the place out perhaps days ago, but the need to survive pushed him further into the district. He had been fortunate to avoid most of the shamblers that seemed to occupy the streets in the built up areas of town, but that was soon about to change as he could a glance of something moving not too far away.

Around a hundred foot down the road, between the ruined vehicles and police barricades he saw them. Undead. Fifteen of them at a guess, were all shuffling vacantly around in circles, bumping into things and occasionally vocalizing in guttural moans and mumbles, though none seemed too alert to notice Leon scuttling from cover to cover down the road. Ahead lay some buildings that looked relatively untouched and he would either have to turn back the way he had come, or risk sneaking past the zombies to reach what could potentially be a rich bounty of foo on the other side. Luckily, the intersection in afforded some possibility of avoidance and so Leon managed to slink between the cars and vans to reach a side access alley that would bypass the undead in the road. Proceeding through the alleyway at a light jogging pace, he passed nothing noteworthy until a strange sound caught his attention from nearby and after a moment or two of confused searching, it seemed to be coming from a nearby fire-exit, the unmistakable sound of a guitar coupled with the thudding metronome of a drum came from within.

The music was off beat and intermittent, suggesting that it wasn't a CD or a recorded source and that could only mean somebody was inside. The door itself was prevented from opening by a stack of wooden pallets jamming the lock-bar mechanism, yet this was simply remedied by a swift boot which dislodged the offending blockage and freed up the door to open, which Leon did with utmost caution. Upon entering, the door led to the back area of what seemed to be a bar, a corridor on his left led over to a kitchen area whilst the right hooked around and led down the side of an elevated stage platform. Forgoing the notion of food for a moment, Leon pressed himself to the brick wall, sticking to the shadows until he could peer around and get an eye on who was creating the music which by now was rather loud and obnoxious, it was a wonder how the zombies outside hadn't heard the racket. Eventually Leon reached a corner and was instantly met with the heated smell of alcohol and something else, a strange earthy smell, like herbs almost, the source of which loomed into view quickly. Two men and one women were poised atop the stage, one sat on a drum-kit whilst the other two strummed on a guitar and danced carefree, bottles in hand. A fourth quickly made himself known.

"Make a move and i'll use this."

Leon froze on the spot, his blood running ice cold as the chilling touch of sharp metal pressed against the side of his neck, a blade. Another hand grabbed him by the arm and shoved him forward into the stagelight where the other three quickly halted their merriment to observe the commotion.

"Who's this?" The young woman was next to speak, jumping off the stage with a bottle of liquor still in hand. She seemed less concerned and more inquisitive than anything else.

The man with the knife withdrew the blade quickly and it could be heard snicking back into itself.

"Caught him lurking around the back. He was trying to sneak up on yous"

Leon turned around and attempted to object, but was quickly ignored. "How did you get in here anyway. I thought the doors were locked?" The heavy set man snarled, speaking with a gruff and course British accent, it matched his tall and heavily built stature, square jaw and pointed nose. The man looked old but not overally so, his short black hair was untreated and grey streaks could be seen throughout. He scowled at Leon judgmentally.

"The door was blocked. I just moved some wood and - "

"So it was you blocked us in?" He jabbed.

"No!? I just came here looking for food and i heard some music ... " Leon spluttered, obviously shaken and in a state of mild shock.

It was at this point that another man stepped in. The one with the guitar. "Don look, you're scaring the poor kid half to death." He spoke in a more relaxed and familiar accent, slurred slightly perhaps due to the whiskey which could be smelt on his breath. This man was equally as tall as the last one but far skinnier, sporting shoulder length dirty blonde hair with a thin wrap of ginger stubble from ear to ear, a wool flat cap was skewed atop his head and he peered at Leon through a pair of square, frameless glasses.

"Sorry for the terrible introduction. Ignore old misery bones Donald over there and let us start over." He began with a friendly grin. "I'm Arnold by the way. That's Ken on the drums" Arnold gestured over to the man sat at the drumkit who simply raised one hand in response. Ken had long hair akin to his bandmate, but black that was tied into a loose pony tail with a long black wizard like beard that hung from his chin. His torn denim jacket revealed rippling muscles that were covered in an assortment of Gothic and Religiously themed tattoos.

"And this is Hoa." Arnold turned and gestured to the girl at his side. She was short, dwarfed by the gigantic figures that were her bandmates, her round face was hidden behind a curtain of auburn hair and her eyes peered over the top of a pair of tinted designer shades. Hoa gave a mock bow.

"And what do we call you?" Hoa asked, handing Leon a bottle of clear liquid that was either Vodka or White Rum, not that he tasted it.

"L - Leon ... Leon Byrne" Leon responded quietly.

"Well Leon my lad. We're XIII Leagues, a small band from this great city of Chicago. Don't worry if you've never heard of us, not many have." Arnold jested, waltzing back to the stage uneasily, obviously his balance impaired by the liquor and perhaps something else too. "We were due to play a gig in this very venue but, unfortunately, the end of the fucking world postponed that indefinitely. But don't fret, you get a private VIP show. Also don't mind those guys out there, they're not here for the music." Arnold gestured to the front fascia of the bar where the shadows of the undead could still be seen shuffling aimlessly through the shuttered window.

"Now get that down you. Don't be shy now." Arnold gestured to the bottle in Leon's hand and gave a mischievous grin.

"I don't drink." Leon bluntly replied and handed back the bottle to Arnold who simply shrugged and instead handed Leon a small white package off a nearby guitar case.

"How about a smoke? Don't believe all that shit the government tells you. After all, they're not here to tell you! It's some good stuff. I guarantee you won't feel so glum after some of the finest stuff this side of Chicago." The guitarist jabbered on.

"No. Sorry." Leon replied bluntly once again, handing the joint back carefully.

"Well. Suit yourself lad. What do you do for fun?" Arnold placed the joint between his lips and took a long drag, holding the smoke in his mouth for a long while before letting it trickle from his nostrils, promptly handing it to Ken who did the same.

Leon shrugged and sat down on a nearby speaker, holding his stomach which was starting to growl rather vigorously. This was picked up by Hoa who snapped her fingers over to Donald who was still sulking in the corner.

"Donald. Get this poor guy something to eat. We still have that jerky somewhere right?"

Donald rolled his eyes and vanished down the corridor, down towards the kitchen area all whilst muttering various things under his breath.

"Don't worry about him. He's just cranky about this whole apocalypse thing."

Leon was still in a state of confusion. These people seemed rather rather nonchalant in the face of all that was happening, supposedly that was the drugs and liquor keeping the panic and fear from taking root, it seemed the band was complacent on living out their days in a drug and booze filled ecstasy and that Donald was the only one who seemed concerned on their welfare, even if it was almost at the expense of Leon himself. The man soon returned with several packets of Jerky and hard biscuits. Leon quickly began devouring the meal that was washed down with a bottle of water that he still had in his pack.

"Hungry huh Leo?" Arnold queried, plucking a series of slow paced chords on his guitar. Leon nodded with a mouth still full of beef jerky.

"We can't feed him and us forever. We have to think about moving soon, now that we can actually get out the back door. We can head for the airport or something." Arnold spoke whilst pacing around the bar area impatiently, eyes torn between the zombies outside and his fellow crew on the stage.

"We can't. It's not safe out there. We can wait for the army right? They will get here soon." Hoa replied after taking a drag from the joint that was still being passed around. Leon shuffled awkwardly on his seat as Arnold looked over from Hoa to him.

"It's safe enough for him to move around so why can't it be safe enough for us? We can find the army and they will evacuate us ... right?"

There was an uneasy silence. They obviously had been locked in for so long that they hadn't realized the gravity of the situation outside. There was no evacuation, there was no army and there wasn't any way they were escaping on their own. In short, they were trapped and alone. Leon gulped and shook his head solemnly.

"Army ceased evacuations days ago. They've left the city." He replied simply. Donald's shoulders slumped down in dismay, his face dropping into a gaunt look of disappointment and trepidation. It was a moment before he spoke again.

"Still. We can't stay here. Food won't last forever and eventually those fuckers are going to get in."

[Walabam]

Lynn Matsubara

"Whoa, whoa, fuckin' calm down bitch, you tryin' to get us killed?!"

Lynn turned herself slowly towards the voice, uttering words of apology. "I'm sorry...it's just...I'm just..." Lynn struggled to get the words out of her mouth. She wasn't really much of an extrovert before the attacks either way, and she needed time to adapt. Lynn had cooped herself in her apartment out of fear; the fear of both the creatures and thugs alike. Slowly, Lynn put down both her hands as the face of a black man, sighing in relief. "I'm...sorry about that," uttered Lynn, further explaining, "I'm just very freaked out by this whole thing. And...and I...I can't really understand what the fuck is going on."

The man was probably the first proper human being she had seen after the attacks. "I'm Lynn. Lynn Matsubara. Uhm," Lynn started to quickly take off the blue nitrile gloves she was wearing, cleaning the sweat off her palms on her pants before offering the man her hand. "Nice to meet you," she continued. The man didn't sound very friendly at first, but what choice did Lynn have? She knew she couldn't beat this battle on her own. Besides, the man might have supplies that she needed, and vice versa. "I'm here looking for food and other necessities. What about you?"

Despite offering a handshake to the man, Lynn knew to keep her distance. However, this was not because of fear towards the man. Rather, it was Lynn's self-consciousness, noting the odor she had on her body and her appearance in general. Her apartment's water supply was cut off, and she had relied on bottled water to stay hydrated. Sure, she could've used some water to give herself a wipe, but staying alive was more important to her than how she presented herself. Who was she going to present herself to anyway?

Apparently, this man.

[Wallenburg]

Steven Larson || August 13
West Patterson Avenue, Lake View

---

The streets of Lake View were relatively empty of both the living and the dead. The military's final efforts to establish a safe zone within Wrigley Field had pulled most of the terrified inhabitants out of their homes, and had simultaneously attracted the hunger of the countless cannibals that had brought the city to its knees. The military's gunfire had kept him awake the night that they established the shelter, and since then he had heard very little from the stadium. Maybe the people there had been evacuated out of the city, maybe the gunfire had gone silent for entirely different reasons. Steven did not want to think about it.

With fewer people living nearby, Steven was confident that food raids would become easier. While what little fresh food remained in stock would soon rot away into nothing, the non-perishables available in the looted supermarkets could keep Steven alive for months. Up ahead, with it's right tires hopping the curb, a Volkswagen sedan quietly beat away metal music. Steven stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, circling the abandoned car. Bullet holes riddled the rear of the vehicle, barely missing the gas tank. The battery was clearly functioning, based on the radio's activity. As the music faded out, a voice came on air, cheerfully reporting what it called the end of the world. Steven stopped next to the car and rested his backpack against its front tire. Carefully, he drew a thick map out of the backpack and laid it flat against the side of the car. Already he had circled several points of interest, supermarkets and grocery stores so far unraided. The Walgreens just ahead didn't have much food left, but certainly the few people still roaming Lake View could not have raided its whole stock of medical supplies.

Alright, so, what do we have for your listening pleasure. Junk. Garbage. Absolute garbage. I apologize, but my selection at the moment is slim to fuck-all. Hey, if you, my darling listeners, come across any spare CDs, cassettes, or 8-tracks, feel free to bring 'em down to the station. Ah! A little old, but I feel that it suits our inaugural broadcast just nicely.

Steven took interest, and after a few minutes managed to pinpoint a radio station on the map, no thanks to the broadcaster who had failed to mention a location. If he's well off enough to spend his time joking on the radio, he's certain to have some surplus supplies.

He folded up the map and slid it back into the backpack. Approaching the Walgreens carefully, he could hear movement within, the sound of something dragging broken glass along the ground. Steven drew his handgun. Someone or something had nearly demolished the storefront, shattering the windows and throwing debris across the street before it. Several bodies, fresh, littered the inside of the store. Steven walked in a wide arc around the entrance and windows of the store, scanning as much of the store as he could without going in.

"Hey," croaked a voice from inside the store. "Is someone there? Help?"

Steven lowered his gun and approached the store entrance. Glass crunched underfoot as he carefully stepped over the bodies. Some were the infected, clearly, marked by their blood-stained mouths. Others were not. All of them had bullet holes through them.

"Hey, please help. I can't move." The weak voice struggled its way over the aisles. Steven walked towards it, increasingly unsettled. He found the source, a man much younger than him, struggling to reach for a pack of large bandages. His blood had begun to pool underneath him, trickling steadily out of the man's side.

"Jesus Christ," murmured Steven. He looked into the man's terrified, desperate eyes. "What happened?"

"Some group of people...cleaned this place out. Got me with all the crazies. Didn't have room on their truck. Said they'd send someone back for me. Please help."

Even without medical experience, Steven could already tell the man had lost too much blood, and that moving him would probably kill him more quickly. The shelves were nearly empty, the pack of bandages the last of a presumably large and varied stock. Steven grabbed a pack of bandages and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, looking over the man, hoping to figure out a way to help him. Apart from what he had in his hands, the store was entirely empty of useful supplies. Steven tore open the box of bandages and handed the man two of them. "Sorry, that's all I can do for you. I need to go."

He rushed out of the store, shoving his new supplies into his backpack. Broken glass shifted about behind him, perhaps as the other man hastily bandaged his wound, hoping to buy some time. Carefully, Steven retraced his path from the apartment. The building, as quiet as he had left it, took him in once more as he searched through his cabinets for decent music. Throwing a few CDs into his bag and tucking a record of Holst's The Planets under his arm, Steven set out again, this time for where he expected to find a peculiar broadcaster looping through his limited selection of tunes.


West Addison Street, Lake View

---

Steven saw Wrigley Field from over half a mile away, its lighting system towering above the surroundings on spindly metal beams. The infected had concentrated in the stadium, and in anticipation Steven had planned to detour south on his way to the radio station. To his surprise, only one infected man roamed the entire length of the street between his apartment and the stadium. The emaciated creature took notice of Steven only when he already had his knife drawn, ready to attack. It dropped to the ground quickly and quietly, although Steven struggled somewhat to pull his knife from its back. Not one to take any chances, he knelt over the dying creature and stabbed it in the stomach several times over. Now sure that the man was dead, he scanned the area slowly. Steven made damned sure no other infected were around to surprise him. Still with his eyes focused on the roads around him, he cleaned the bloody knife on the infected man's filthy t-shirt. Some more blood had found its way up to Steven's cuffs, but he could do little to remedy that. Most likely, the shirt would collect far more blood as Steven made his way out of Chicago.

A ten foot tall chain fence encircled this side of Wrigley, held in place by concrete barricades. Some sat further back toward the field, as if pushed by some massive force. Others lay on their side, fencing scattered on the ground. Approaching the stadium's southeast side, Steven could hear hungry groans and lazy shuffles echoing out from over the top of the stadium. So, that's where they all are. I guess they didn't evacuate in time. A particularly distinct growl caught Steven's ears. He looked up to see an infected woman, perhaps twice his age, glaring at him cravingly from a fenced-off platform underneath the stadium seats. She clutched the green handrail and shouted out a hungry roar, yet she did not approach him. At least two dozen feet above the ground, she would almost certainly die should she fall or jump from the platform. Steven kept moving, though, knowing that if she drew too much attention that other infected in the area might have better luck attacking him.

The entrance to Wrigley sported countless dead bodies in various states of decomposition. These were not fresh kills, nor were they all victims of the infected. As Steven neared the noxious scene, he could see dozens, perhaps hundreds of spent casings peppered across the ground among shattered glass and dried blood. And in the middle of the terrible display stood a rather portly man in a Cubs jersey.

"What the hell?" Steven made his way to the other side of the street and ducked behind a car. Certainly that man could not be responsible for all that carnage, but why the hell was he standing in front of the stadium entrance among so many bodies as if he were waiting for another target? "Maybe it was a better idea to detour south after all."

Code: Select all

+ 1 16 oz isopropyl alcohol
+ 8 large bandages
+ 3 CDs
+ 1 vinyl record

[Insaeldor]

Julian Ryuhn
Loyola University
25th day of the Outbreak

"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked."
-Psalm 91 5-8

I looked out at Mertz Hall from the window inside St. Joseph's Seminary. I turned my body back towards the altar and closed my bible. I looked up and was gazed upon by a statue of the Virgin Mary as she stood onto a snake and holding a red Rosary in her left hand. While i don't remember who placed it there, or how it got there i still took it and placed it around neck. I then bowed to my knees in front of the Altar. I made the sign of the cross and recited the trinitarian formula before i prayed, in a hushed almost self talking manor as to keep my presence an unknown to the outside as i had been doing for my time here.

"Jesus, I will arise; Jesus do thou accompany me;
Jesus, do thou lock my heart into thine, And let my body and my soul
Be commended unto thee.
The Lord is crucified.
May God guard and protect my senses
So that misfortunes may not overcome me.
In the name of God the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost.
Amen!"

I stood back up and looked back at the window. The campus was so serene and calm at times, it was one of those mornings, nothing of note going on and the sound of Robin's chirping. I however could not stay and admire the outside for long, if any of the infected were to come by and notice me be in an awful situation. I grabbed my backpack and made my way over to one of the blind spots in the seminary, a small corner where the wall suddenly protrude out from the conventional geometry, the protrusion made way for a small closet on the other side of the wall. It also made a nice notched out space for me to sleep and stay without worry of someone seeing me through a window, even then however I still made sure I had no lights on or even spoke to loudly. An insidious fear o overwhelmed my stay here, I knew I'd mostly likely have to head out eventually as my supply of sacraments and bottled water ran dry. That after all was the only thing left after all the perishables went to waste as the electricity failed. The sisters still had some canned goods around like Kidney Beans and Peaches, but they only had an electric opener. Thus it was useless.

While I had started out my stay in the seminary, helping the congregation as many came to pray and confess the numbers had dwindled significantly. Father O'Rourke went to go check on a church in North Mayfield and never returned. The sisters either didn't make it initially or went out to find stuff, food, help, whatever. They never came back either. It was just me now. Huddled in that corner. Waiting, for what I can't say, for help or for death, that's really all I could be waiting for. I'd seen what happened to those that left. Those that thought highly of themselves are figured they could weather the storm of pestilence that crippled the city. I laid down in my bed and covered up with the small fleece blanket, bringing it to my nice and just below my ears. The hard floor had grown on me, it was about as comfortable as anything else I'd get. I laid down hoping to get about 30 minutes of sleep. But as my body laid down and came to settle I couldn't help but be overtaken by fantasies.

What if I had gone with Father O'Rourke? Would he had made it to the church? Could we have saved them? Are they still alive? If I'd given him my gun he could at the very least have defended himself. What if I had protested more when the sisters wanted to leave? I sank lower and the pit grew deeper in my stomach. I drowned in my guilt. I had been for days now, everytime I had a moment of silence my mind drifted towards my inadequacies regarding how I'd handle the situation here in the seminary. I could never right my wrongs, thus I was to live with the fact that my lack of advocacy and my inability to others was the reason I sat here alone with only the memories of the dead.

As I laid down the blowing of the wind was cut off by a faint scream. My ears perked up and I jumped to my feet, I tried orient myself to see where it was coming from. Another scream quickly followed. I lunged for my backpack and pulled out the Hi-Point I kept inside of it and loaded in one of the magazines. I looked out the window again, towards Mertz hall when I could hear a third scream. My guess was that it was coming from there, God only know how many infected would make their way here. Best to keep myself hidden and avoid anything unnecessary.

Those poor souls in Mertz hall. May God have mercy on them.

[Sulania]

Angela Rus
Day 25
Near the CVS Pharmacy on Chicago Ave

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me." Angela whispered to herself as she traversed the streets of Chicago in her lonesome. She remembered making her casual strolls along these streets when she first moved to the city, whether it was with natives from her congregation or just for the leisure of the streets by herself. Now, with the city falling into ruins of infection, that once leisurely stroll was one of caution and fear, regularly ducking into cover and hiding in buildings to evade the infected. From those days, she never remembered the street names or the signs, just remembering turns and landmarks, now it all came easy to her. Streets and signs and the various markers all laid perfectly cemented, another sign of divine providence for her, as if the Lord Himself is aiding her in the smallest of ways.

Every so often, whispering passages to herself from scripture, or making a silent prayer for safety. These mixed in with the inner monologues that have likely kept her from going crazy in the long absence of real human interaction. Thinking through things or reminiscing when the streets were filled with people of various stories and backgrounds. She looked to a curb of a ruined building, remembering a homeless man whom she gave money too. To a cafe where she had had coffee with a colleague of hers from the Catholic Church, Father O'Rourke, someone whom she kept correspondence with, and noted for his grace and understanding, though they had differing faiths.

In the past, Angela would have likely been broken by this. It was all a little too surreal, and despite that she maintained a calm mind to it. While she could imagine it all and understand it was her, there was a little bit of a disconnect. She didn't feel horribly broken at seeing these things, she felt remorse and sad for those lost, but not broken. It was an odd thing, something she has learned to trying not to think about too much lest it give her a headache. Something changed her, though beyond Divine, she had no idea what.

She rounded the corner, ready to begin her scavenging work, when she noticed the commotion near the CVS, her very own objective. She ducked behind the corner again, and leaned in to overhear. She didn't have a good vantage point, she didn't even see who it was that she was hiding from all that well. For all she knew, she could be hiding from a few people, to potentially a whole enclave in the CVS.

Regardless, the amount of commotion that could be caused wouldn't be good for hiding from the infected. While she maintained her cover, she took her XD 9mm from its holster and prepared for any infected or hostilities from the mass of survivors near the CVS.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

Crystal Wu
Washington Elementary School
School’s Out Forever

The streets are clogged with abandoned vehicles. Luckily, Crystal managed to reach the streets rather unharmed. So far she hasn't got any sights on infected ones, though she should've been more wary of her surroundings. She remembered of a school near here that was an evacuation point, at one point. Should go there, there may be some survivors inside. Perhaps even soldiers who still resided in Chicago, or trapped, for a lack of optimistic term. She spotted an abandoned military jeep on the streets. A key still intact, she almost happily celebrated it. She opened the door and started the engine. It will be loud and attracts infected, so better be fast on this one.

What she didn't know was that it was the wrong school that she'd about to reached.

Her jeep reached an abandoned grocery store as it ran out of fuel. It stopped slowly and then completely not far from the school. She obviously went off the jeep and basically walked faster to the direction of the school. There are sights of Infected, so she has to avoid them at all cost. Her gun is just one and not many melee weapons, though she finally reached the school and she arrived at the front door. The door was slightly open, but no sights of survivors...outside.

"Better be prepared for this," as she pulled her handgun out. Not much training is not enough, but that's what she got. She walked to the door, slowly, and entered the school.

[Relikai]

Sun Yunri
Day 24, Washington Elementary


It was one of those places where one might find some supplies. Not exactly food, but electronics and whatever useful tools she could find. A school was a well equipped institution after all, with their own canteens, sick bays, and might contain other necessities one would find in a mainstream shop like a pharmacy or homewares shop.

Climbing over the gate was easy enough, all her athletic and acrobatic training which came under her fitness regime in maintaining her figure as a model coming into play. Although not as strong as athletes, she could hold on her own, swinging her body over the fence, her boots finding enough traction on the metal as she lay her pole on the other side. Retrieving the metal bar, she scouted the perimeter of the school, the red bricks standing out against the surroundings. Avoiding windows which remained closed, Yunri stepped softly on the grass, keeping an eye out for any possible hiding spots for infected, her weapon in hand and ready to swing whenever.

An open window presented itself soon enough, the woman hopping across after ensuring that the place was empty, her boots not making much sound as she walked heel to toe, taking each step slowly as she passed by the empty classroom. Her target destination would be the sick bay, or the kitchen, although she wasn't sure if she actually heard noises somewhere along the school corridors as she walked on, her backpack strapped tightly to her back...

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Nancy Kirksey
Loyola University
Mertz Hall

Nancy’s face showed mere fright before her frown faltered into a scowl. The yelling boy was getting loud, just as Liz had been mere moments before. “You shut the fuck up, you broke into our fucking dorm! Fuck you, you fucking asshole.” Her mouth coiled up, teeth clenched and her tiny fists balled up. “Don’t fucking talk down to us.” A hot breath left her mouth, her lips drawing back in a heated purse. She had never seen the cloaked asshole in her life; though she may have recognized him had he not dressed up for the break-in as a rioter. She wasn’t given much time to contemplate the jackoff’s name however. From the combined might of the screaming match, the break in, and the infected banging at the door, a buzz of hot intensity had swarmed the outside. A wretched shriek rung across the dorm, before a window in the left hallway shattered with a streak of blood and darkness.

The thing fell in, screeching in pain but making no physical indication of it. Its maw was open wide with the teeth of a horse, which bit into the wrist of the defending Liz as quickly as it had burst in. Screaming sounded out through the room, while one of the hinges on the door loosened and broke. One of the boys rushed for Liz, but the thing had already tackled her to the floor. Its hands went up slammed them down upon the crying Liz. One arm fell into her arm and cracked the bleeding wrist, the other slamming the back of her head into the floor. The boy kicked the thing that used to be a student of Loyola, throwing it off balance but letting it still latch onto Liz’s arm. Liz stopped screaming, now only a gurgle and series of grunts dipping from her throat. Gretchen ran to help, Monica stricken in fear and the others too far away to make it. The boy managed to kick it off finally, a stomp cracking across its forehead. Blood poured from it. The door creaked again with a loud crack, splintering at the top. Even more shouting could be heard outside now, another crack came from the thing’s skull, Liz was twitching, oh God she was twitching and now her arms were coming together and her mouth was open and

The thing was dead now. A pool of blood had begun to crease all through the carpet flooring of the hall, both from Liz and the thing. Gretchen screamed, bowing down to Liz. “Liz! Liz! No no no no! Noooo, noooo!” She grabbed Liz by the shoulders, who made no response other than to writhe about the floor in confusion. The boy who had killed the thing rushed to the window it had burst from, wrapping his hand in his long sleeve. He took it to the frame, grabbing pieces of glass and tearing them out. Shaun also began to turn to this method of escape, assisting with his sleeve as best he could.

Nancy was dumbfounded; the only good friends she’d had for the last year were breaking apart in front of her. Monica slid to the floor, crying against the wall. Gretchen was still trying to wake the shaking Liz, tears streaming down her own face, blood leaking across her hands. “No, no…” Nancy felt like puking. Butterflies ran amuck in her stomach, throat clenching tight. She latched onto her inhaler, bringing it to her mouth and shooting a puff of air into her lungs. With that breath, she put it back down in her pocket. It hadn’t helped much. She stepped towards them, now entering the crossroads of the hallway this had occurred. The door snapped again, another hinge coming loose. Monica leapt to her feet, looking at Liz. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry Liz, I’m so sorry…” She cried, tears wreaking havoc on the makeup she still doused her face with every other day. “Fuck… Gretchen, come on!” Nancy yelled as Monica ran to the others who were finishing up the window. Gretchen sniffled, ignoring her pleas. “Gretchen come on!” Nancy screamed again, the first of the boys jumping out the window. Gretchen looked up at Nancy, the tears leaking down her face. “I…” She stammered, the infected man and the girl carrying him scattering out of the dorm next. Nancy ran past the kneeling girl, guilt nipping at her but self-preservation serving as a protective plate from its jaws.

She followed Shaun and Monica out, the six survivors running as fast as they could. Nancy cut into a cold sprint, the only sound now that of screaming from behind and her own legs pounding on the grass. The students dashed onto the road next, stone bricks leading up to a vast building that Nancy was only mildly familiar with: Saint Joseph’s Seminary. The infected had already left the dorms Gretchen and Liz perhaps slowing a few of them down. Nancy ran to the doors with Monica and the boy who had crushed the thing’s head. They tried to open them; but they would not budge. “No! Fuck fuck fuck!” The boy yelled, Nancy herself screaming out a flurry of curses. ”Fuck! No God please, God please!” She slammed on the door with her shoulder, shaking it but doing more to hurt her muscle rather than the hardwood. There had been an open waist high gate behind them; the girl with the infected boy closed it, a near futile attempt to stop the onslaught. “The windows maybe, the windows maybe!?” Monica cried out, as Nancy and the other boy continued to try and kick the doors down to little avail. “Fuck! Fuck!” Nancy screamed, the infected only drawing closer.

Code: Select all

Elizabeth Teely (Deceased, Blunt Force Head Trauma)
Gretchen Abernathy (Deceased, Infected Horde)


***

Clement Willoughby
Washington Elementary School
The Front Doors
School’s Out Forever

Clement Willoughby had made quite the leisure into Washington Elementary School. The inside was exactly what he expected. Massive bricks that formed the walls painted white, shitty tile flooring with the same curled dots peppering each piece of the floor. Clement clicked his tongue, that fresh school smell wafting through his nostrils. His concentration was damaged however, when he switched his body around at the creak of the door. “Oh!” He gasped, stumbling back before huffing a breath. “Oh God, you scared me.”

A woman had followed him into the school, inadvertently or not. “Sorry, sorry.” He sniffled, looking upon the woman and the gun she carried. A twinge of fright struck his brain, but he had to calm himself down. It wasn’t like she was going to shoot him, of course. Why would she do that? “Rough introduction. My bad. Did you… did you hear the voice coming from here too?”

***

As Sun Yunri wandered the halls of Washington Elementary, an elderly man limped from behind her, muttering under his breath. His nostrils were flaring, his mind was running, and his eyes were twitching in every which way as he stumbled upon the young woman. “Excuse me young lady, are you here for the PTA meeting? That’s taking place inside the gymnasium.” He smiled as best as he could, rotting teeth behind a pair of wrinkled lips. “Get out.”

His smile never faltered. “Get out! Get out get out get out get out!” He shrieked, running at her as best as his old legs could take him, the crowbar swinging behind him.

***

Mawuli Jackson
Liz’s Pet Shop
CVS Pharmacy

Jackie listened to the woman, nodding along with wide-eyes the whole time. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay.” He followed along with her, resisting an eye roll but keeping himself at least modestly polite. Whether he liked it or not, this was the only person he had at the moment; he needed to keep an aura of being a professional, a polite lawyer that didn’t go around calling people “nigga” and “bitch.” He looked at her, pursing his lips. “Nah, it’s fine, it’s good. Just don’t be so loud, you know what I mean? Could fu- could get every one of the, uh, infected comin’ at us.”

He listened to her give her name and watched as she extended her hand for a shake, something he was a bit surprised by. He hadn’t expected this level of formality between the two, much less such a friendly person, but he took it in stride. He returned the handshake, fumbling over his words. “I’m uh, Jonathan… McCormick.” He hesitated and as they finished the handshake he withdrew. “Good to meet you.” They stood in silence for but a moment before Jackie realized he needed to continue the conversation before things got too awkward and his cracks started to show. “I’m uh, lookin’ for some Band-Aids. Scraped myself up. See my suit? Got all dirty and sh… because of some crazy guy.” He tugged at his tie, dusting off his jacket and twisting the briefcase at his side nervously.

***

Isaiah Thompson
ALDI, N Broadway
Hiding
Food for Thought

“Fucking bitch…” Isaiah muttered under his breath, still hiding behind the shelf of chips. He was busy attempting to scramble his brain back into action, before another shot burst across the store. ”FUCK YOU!” The old man screamed back at him as the shelf exploded into splinters, chips, and crinkling bags. ”Fuck!” Isaiah cried out, falling onto his back as the shelf geysered its contents onto the floor. It had become increasingly clear to Isaiah that the food in this ALDI had been hardly worth it. He crawled backwards, another shot clearing a chunk of the shelf out above him. ”Fuck you, you old bastard!” Isaiah howled, climbing onto his hands and knees as he reached the end of the shelf. He scrambled out from his cover, firing two shots at the old man once again. The card reader on the register erupted, while the old man fired off one last shot before chunks of metal flew into his eyes. “Aw, sonuvabitch!” He swore, falling from his stance and crawling to the floor.

“Motherfucker! Shouldn’t have fucked wit’ me!” Isaiah screamed, having just dodged the last shotgun blast by clambering behind a pillar. He peeked his head out, hearing the man crying out in pain and rounding the corner of the pillar. He broke into a full sprint, rushing around the counter to see the man wincing, tiny streams of blood leaking from his cheeks. He was wincing, trying to blink debris out of his eyes while snatching at his shotgun. Isaiah reacted fast; gun still in his hand, he jumped down onto the old man’s back and pushed his head into the ground. ”No! No motherfucker, you need to stop! Stop it, fucking stop!”

”Fuck you, fuck you! This is my fucking store!”

”Fucking quit it, stop it! You fuckin’ killed a guy! So fucking stop it!”

They sat there for a minute, just breathing, faces red and sweat pouring from their brows. “No… oh God, oh God… I’m so sorry, God forgive me, God forgive me…”

Isaiah reached past the man, wringing the shotgun from his hands and standing up. “Fuckin’... what the fuck.” He spit on the floor, looking up at the doors. “You probably got a bunch of crazy fucks on their way. Dumb motherfucker.” He ran around the counter and towards the broken sliding door, grabbing a shelf and doing his best to push it in front of the doorway. The shelf dug up against the corpse of the man who had been so unlucky just before, but it was at least covering the passage now. “Shit. Fuckin… got myself into this shit.”

He walked back to the counter, only to see the old fat man weeping on the floor like a fussy baby. “You one sad mothafucka, you know that?”

He walked away again, now holding the shotgun in both hands after having stuffed his pistol into his jeans. A quick search of the area revealed two vinyl ropes hidden in a tent package, which he ripped open like a kid on Christmas. Returning to the snotting man, he bent down. “Jesus Christ. Don’t get any of that shit on me. I ain’t trustin’ you like a mothafucka.” The vinyl went around his wrists easily, stuck at his back. The legs were next, tightened up as best as Isaiah could with what he had. He hooked the vinyl to the register just to keep it held in place even more, and from Isaiah’s perspective he had done an alright job of restraining the man. Not like he needed to anyways. The store owner was a blubbering mess, flopping about on the ground. He wasn’t talking now, just moaning and crying into the floor. “Man, you need to grow a fuckin’ pair already. Old fuckin’ bastard.” Peering under the counter, he saw the box of shotgun shells the man had been taking from, lapping them up and shoving them into his pockets. “You can have this bitch back once I’m sure you ain’t gonna finish me.”

Code: Select all

Winchester SXP Defender x1
12 Gauge x14
Junk Food x10
Raw Food x10
NPC (Martin Rockford, 57)