12-20-2013, 11:05 PM
The streets are barren and suspiciously silent. I'm walking to a..
Poorly hidden lighthouse.
In hopes to start the light and summon other survivors-If anyone was still out there. As far as I knew the only decent people left on the planet, or at least in North America, were the seven other members of my group. The rest were untrustworthy nomads or tyrannical survivalists. Flush against the wall of a decaying warehouse I peek around the corner.
Straggling along the pothole ridden asphalt is a
Sloppy drug dealer.
and a
Paranoid photographer.
The young looking dealer was on all fours frantically looking for a bag of white powder. I could see it was just behind his left shoe. 'Idiot.' His companion was fumbling with the lens to his camera, constantly looking over his shoulder as to not let a walker sneak up on them. I emerge with my
Watch.
The two unlikely companions get distracted from their tasks by the shining metal.
'Who are you?' the photographer asks, again taking a look over his shoulder. I introduce myself. "June. What are you two doing?"
Convince the reporter to leave the heavily trapped hotel.
They said and continue to explain upon seeing my puzzled expression. "We were overrun in the hotel down the street. We were able to make it out alive but our friend, Bob is still there and refuses to leave. Do you think you can help us?' I glance at my
Below average can opener.
and my
Old scrap metal.
These were the weapons I had to use. I look at what they are equipped with. Strapped to the dealers waist is a
Hazard suit.
and in his pocket are
Lawn darts.
Bob has
Ammo (5.56 mm).
for which I actually have a gun for. Strapped to Bob's arm is
Narcotics.
And interesting place to keep such drugs, but who am I to judge a fellow survivor? and he also holds a
Cordless skill saw.
I groan at my luck. If only any of us have a
Flare gun.
I wield my below average can opener for show. I was very fond of this weapon. It had seen more that its fair share of zombie brains and gore. 'How about this? You help me light that light house and we stop by and save your friend on the way.' At this moment the drug dealer decides to stop his searching and say 'What makes you think you have what it takes to survive two missions?' I look at him incredulously 'The bag of meth is by your show dimrod. If any of us can survive this I think it's me. Not to sound arrogant.'
I continued 'plus I'm pretty skilled at
Hunting.
And not to mention
Carpentry.
Nor do I think either of you can
Survival.
I also have a minor in
Singing.
and
Camouflage.
To be continued
Poorly hidden lighthouse.
In hopes to start the light and summon other survivors-If anyone was still out there. As far as I knew the only decent people left on the planet, or at least in North America, were the seven other members of my group. The rest were untrustworthy nomads or tyrannical survivalists. Flush against the wall of a decaying warehouse I peek around the corner.
Straggling along the pothole ridden asphalt is a
Sloppy drug dealer.
and a
Paranoid photographer.
The young looking dealer was on all fours frantically looking for a bag of white powder. I could see it was just behind his left shoe. 'Idiot.' His companion was fumbling with the lens to his camera, constantly looking over his shoulder as to not let a walker sneak up on them. I emerge with my
Watch.
The two unlikely companions get distracted from their tasks by the shining metal.
'Who are you?' the photographer asks, again taking a look over his shoulder. I introduce myself. "June. What are you two doing?"
Convince the reporter to leave the heavily trapped hotel.
They said and continue to explain upon seeing my puzzled expression. "We were overrun in the hotel down the street. We were able to make it out alive but our friend, Bob is still there and refuses to leave. Do you think you can help us?' I glance at my
Below average can opener.
and my
Old scrap metal.
These were the weapons I had to use. I look at what they are equipped with. Strapped to the dealers waist is a
Hazard suit.
and in his pocket are
Lawn darts.
Bob has
Ammo (5.56 mm).
for which I actually have a gun for. Strapped to Bob's arm is
Narcotics.
And interesting place to keep such drugs, but who am I to judge a fellow survivor? and he also holds a
Cordless skill saw.
I groan at my luck. If only any of us have a
Flare gun.
I wield my below average can opener for show. I was very fond of this weapon. It had seen more that its fair share of zombie brains and gore. 'How about this? You help me light that light house and we stop by and save your friend on the way.' At this moment the drug dealer decides to stop his searching and say 'What makes you think you have what it takes to survive two missions?' I look at him incredulously 'The bag of meth is by your show dimrod. If any of us can survive this I think it's me. Not to sound arrogant.'
I continued 'plus I'm pretty skilled at
Hunting.
And not to mention
Carpentry.
Nor do I think either of you can
Survival.
I also have a minor in
Singing.
and
Camouflage.
To be continued