August Lockwood Age- 18 Gender- male Appearance- He's 5'11", blonde haired and grey eyed, his nails are bitten extremely short and he always appears a bit disheveled Other- August was in his freshman year of college and was living with his 23 year old sister when the apocalypse began. He rarely got out much when things were normal due to his anxiety disorder, but when the zombie infection started spreading worldwide he stopped leaving the house. His sister kept them alive, boarding up their doors and windows, finding weapons and food and eventually becoming a near expert at killing zombies. However, she left to find more water one day and didn't return. August soon ran out of food too (at this point in the story he's been out of the house for a day, is just learning about how bad things really are and is hoping to find his sister but is focusing more on finding a safe place for living people, visiting schools and other public buildings in the hopes of finding someone) ________________________________________________________________________________ The doors to the run-down apartment complex slammed shut, August's weight immediately falling back against them to hold them shut as a small mob of zombies threw themselves at it on the other side. He was out of breath, just as much from fear as from running down the street when a group of the undead caught his scent and took chase, and he knew he had to keep moving but for a moment he just slumped over and clenched his eyes closed. The young male had been in an almost constant state of panic and confusion for the past 24 hours, shocked from being suddenly thrown into the chaos of the outside world. He hadn't eaten for several days and had recently run out of water; all he had left was the pistol clutched tightly in his hand, a few bullets still inside. Not that it had proven to be very useful so far considering he barely knew how to shoot. Once when his sister had rushed through the front door of their house with several zombies close at her heels he'd fired in a haze of adrenaline, killing only one while she took care of the others. It had been over in seconds- that was the extent of his experience with guns. So no, he thought hysterically, the gun wouldn't save him. The zombies were still pounding at the door, relentless, and he fumbled with the lock as he forced it completely before rushing without any forethought into nearby stairwell, closing yet another door that separated the zombies outside from him- and found the stairs above him crowded with more zombies. Great, he thought, mouth going dry, heart thundering in his chest as he froze in fear. He was definitely about to die now.