The Survivor Ch.2

Burial (The Broadcast)

     After the near death encounter with the infected left him shaking, he had to sit down for a moment. It was the closest he ever came to being bitten by an infected and being killed. It was not a pleasn't experience and he was sceptical that he wasn't bit due to the amount of adrenaline rushing through him at the moment which hindered him from thinking straight. Luckily, after the adrenaline in his system thined out enough to stop shaking excessively, he was able to inspect himself to find he wasn't injured at all. Just shook up.

     After he got over himself, he got up and decided, since there was only one of them, the decent thing for him to would be to bury him... After he searched him of coarse. Waste not, want not, especially these days right? As he began patting him down, he didn't find much at first: a Zippo lighter (the best kind of lighter ever made in his opinion), a cigarrete pack with 3 smokes left, some 12 guage slug rounds for a shotgun but (sadly) no gun present, a key of some sort (seems like for a pad lock), and some type of pocket-sized note book. He thought this was some kind of journal that would give him an idea of who this person use to be. He flipped it open a bit toward the end:

June 27- Afternoon

Heard that voice on the radio again. Said that survivors were gathering in some shit-hole town by the name of "Kent City." Not sure what to think, but do I really want to pass up a chance like that?
Fuck it, I'm gathering supplies and making my way there tonight. Anything is better than slogging through this nightmare on my own. Hope I can get there before nightfall.

     The name of the town gave him a very nestolgic and grimm feeling. The survivor flipped forward a page to find blood on the last entery. This must have been the point he became infected:

June 28- Evening

One of the zombie fucks got a bite off me! Took a chunk clea-blood stain-my leg. I can't even walk right anymore! So-blood stain-a bitch! I knew this was a bad idea ever since I heard that radio broadcast on 140.98. God, I'm tired. Need to slee-

     The rest was too stained with blood to read. The only thing that was clear was the frequency he heard the radio message. 140.98... Why does that sound so familliar he wonders... That was enough reading for now. Now was the time for the work.

     He put the man's body in a tarp and drug away from his hide out and began to dig a hole. He got about 5ft. deep when he decided this was enough to make it a have way proper burial. He placed the man it the hole, tarp and all, and filled what was left to fill up. Once he finished up, he jammed his shovel into the ground and made the Catholic Cross motion with his right hand (forhead, chest, left shoulder, right shoulder, kiss index figer knuckle). Nothing else need be said in his opinion. No long prayer, no parting sermen, no tearful farewell; to him the Cross said it all.

~Later that Night~

     The survivor sat down with the usual meal he had grown used to: A glass of water, a can of beans and a special treat of fire-cooked venison (medium rare). As he swallowed down a mouth full of beans he could not help but think of Kent City. His old school came to mind first and what a hell hole it was for him. He could not help but think about how the people there gave up on him and looked for any reason to get rid of him... Until one day they found an assinine reason.

~~~

     "Tyler, could you come with me to my office for a bit?" the dean of students asked him casualy. Tyler stood from his chair an accompanied him to his office expecting a talk. only he thought it was about him not graduating from the highschool, which he expected. But it was something else; an ambush to assassinate his character.
     
     As Tyler and the dean walked through the office door, he could feel something was up.
     
     "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

     "Just wait in that room until I come for you, okay?" he pointed to the office's waiting room. Tyler didn't like that at all, especially since he wouldn't tell him what the deal was.

     About an hour later he came back with a police officer. Tyler REALLY had a bad feeling now.

     "Tyler, this is Officer Frank," he began, "He would like to talk to you about what you wrote in your Finals Essay to Mrs. Bubblitz yesterday."

     "What's this about?!" Tyler demmanded as he shot up from his seat. This caused a bad reaction. The officer had placed a hand on his fire arm.

~~~

     The survivor just shook his head to get the memory to stop playing back in his mind. This was not the time to think about his shitty past. Instead, he began to think about that infected man's journal entery. Were there really other survivors gathering at his home town? Only one way to find out. He grabbed his plate and walked over to his battery powered transistor radio. He began to tune it so it would be on the right channel once on to save battery power. Once at the frequency 140.98, he clicked on the radio. Nothing. But it also wasn't static so it was a start.

     The silence went on for about another 30 second until he could swear he could hear something faint. He turned the "fine tune" knob until his susspicion was confirmed.

*static* -here. An escape is here! A SOLUTION is here! All who can here this should brave the journy to get to Kent City. You are not alone. There are other survivors here who can provide medical attention, food, shelter and protecion!-

     Other than the voice saying where the nearest location of a highway they can travel from to get there would be, the message repeated from there which was a call for concern. If it was reapeating, how long ago was it made and how can he be sure the people who made it are still there? This wasn't something he could decide on in one night. He chokeded down the last bite of his meal and turned off the radio. Would he be ready to rejoin ANY kind of society? Would he even want to? He would have to sleep on it.

...Sleep...
Yeah, right...