*Snow-Fallen Zombies* 2.0 * * * Deep with in the montains of France, lays the city of Neigeflacon, a small town that has one of the longist winters in the world outside of Siberia. The town has limited communicasion to the outside world and only one way out to civilizasion. On all sides it is boardered by a very large mountain range and a thick forrest of giant pines, where exspreincedmen have either died or became lost in the thicket. On this dreadful day, something happned to one unexspected trucker delivering supplies into the city from outside the mountain range, he was attacked. His wounds were miner, only a few scratches, so after dispatching the assalint, he contiued in his rout, not knowing that from that, he would cause doom to fall down apon the city of Neineflacon. It's been three days since the Outbreack, and the 6 mounth winter is slowly creeping apon them. Inside the medical building, our survivers have found refuge behind the boarded up windows and doors of the clinic. The town docter, a Dr. Philips J. Gilbertson, tried his best to protect the people under his care. But alast, his old heart couldn't take the stress of the undead as well as the cold, and he died from a heart attack on the second night. Issac, the local butcher, took apart a few of the chairs in the waiting room with the help of Ib, the 14 year old who was under apprenticeship of the local smithy, for the materials they needed to barracaide them selves in. Mark took residence on the second floor of the small, house like hospital. It would appear that the stress was getting to him. It was his first day on the force 4 days ago. From their time in the city, three days have past and they managed to get as meny survivers as they possibly could. Their numbers are now at 12 and are slowly declining from the stress and the infection. For a city with a populasion of under 1,250 people, this has to be one of the worce things that could of happned to Neigeflacon. This is the third night with the undead roaming the streets abroad. Food is getting scarse and there is talk going around the other survivers that they might leave, to fend for them selves out in the wilderness. They fear the banging on the windows, the wanting hands outstreatching through any holes they can push their rotted arms through. No one enters the lobby anymore in fear that they might breack in, so who ever has a plan to exit the clinic, has to find another way out.