Charles felt the sun leak into the house through his open window, the warmth laying lightly on his face. His face was a mixture of brown eyes and honey brown hair, with round eyes and doll like lips. Although it was winter and extremely cold, he left the window open last night. He got up from the floor he was sleeping on. He looked around forgetting that this wasn't his house and that he was just staying here for the night. Charles didn't bother to wake the other man that was laying beside him. Charles grabbed slipped on the heavy winter attire and his back pack, after lacing up his boots, he headed for the door. The man that slept beside him was clearly awake by this point but didn't want to do anything about it. Charles shut the door behind him and looked at the dirt road he took here, his bike next laying in the frosted grass. There wasn't much snow, but frost and icy wind. Charles went to his bike and picked it up, riding it over the bumpy dirt road that went down the hill to the town. He dreaded the town. All there was guns, dead people, people trying to get as much money as possible, people getting beat up by the new military take over or whatever you want to call them. Nobody knew why there were here. All we know is that we are becoming lower in the human race. Charles reached the town, putting his bike in a small alley way. He started to walk, letting his boots stomp on the cobblestone. He looked over to the drugstore, now guarded by men with guns. They were everywhere. Charles now went to the pub, knowing that they could have a place to sleep in for the night. Charle's small house was burnt down, not being finally stable and not knowing anyone, he had to wonder around for places to stay at. Almost everybody had some damage to their house. Burnt or forced out. He walked into the pub, already feeling as if someone was watching him. Maybe not watching but gazing.