OOC The amber rays of dawn broke through the clouds of smoke and soot over Eureka, CA, various natural gas fires only adding to the gloom. The streets were very much the opposite of alive; figures shifted and shambled, stumbling over the bones of the old world with lurched gaits. They hunger... no humanity, no respite, no fatigue, no fear. The individuals who were once human were no longer. The breakdown of society also caused a return to the natural order; humanity was no longer the apex predator. s. lethargica was. Sure, some quarantine zones still remain, where a semblance of order is maintained; this order is tenuous, only reinforced at the barrels of guns, ammunition ever dwindling, slowly but steadily. Basic human necessity was only barely maintained in such zones, prompting the more daring to stake it out on their own in the shell of society. You are one such individual. No matter your background, there is one thing that differentiates you from the meek living in the quarantine. You have initiative. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Zackary's breath was ragged, strained with exertion. It was only two weeks after he decided to escape the quarantine, not content to sit and watch while the world burned and it's occupants consumed each other. He was running through alleyways and vaulting fences, a duffle around his back and a bulletproof vest worn on his person; such physical effort could never be maintained for long when encumbered. He was used to such strains, the pudge from his old life receding to wiry musculature. Rule #1: Cardio. Always be conditioned so you will never turn into a canapé for the undead. Moans and slavering, hissing sounds were not far behind him, moving at a consistent pace, tearing down obstacles as they lurched towards the potential meal. Zackary kept up a fast pace, cutting across a 'busy' street, drawing more attention to himself. Zackary kept looking for potential outs, coming upon a convenience store. Perfect, as the layouts of convenience stores could lose a pursuing horde. While running, Z.C. lifted a single, large bag of jerky from the ransacked aisles as he passed through a metal door titled 'EMPLOYEES ONLY.' It wasn't long until the horde was upon the reinforced door; meaty hands were slamming upon the steel already. Thinking fast, Zackary took a chair and laid it against the knob, as well as sliding the deadbolt. It wouldn't hold for long. Rule #16: Always have an out. Zackary clambered up a ladder leading to the roof; barren, with only various detritus strewn about. The roof was easily accessible to others, making it a great place to escape, or hole up for the time being. He noticed a large section of plywood. Picking up the section, he laid it over the now-closed hatch, sliding a large 64-gallon drum over it. Now that the roof access was sealed, it was time to do some reinforcing. Building supplies were opposite on a still 'under construction' office complex, a precarious plywood bridge laid out to bridge the gap over an alleyway milling with the undead. He set to work.