The Survivor Ch.3

Preperation

     "Mr. Colby, sit down and stay calm," the officer cautioned Tyler, "There's no reason to get uncivil."

     "Then I'll ask you again 'civily'," Tyler began, "What is this about?"

     "Acording to Mr. P here you wrote a very 'terrorrist' derived statement in your essay to Mrs. Bubblitz." the offier said, "Something about 'pushing a button', I beleive?"

~~~

     The survivor snapped awake, bowie blade in hand, and slashed hard impulsively at nothing but air. Drenched in sweat, his eyes twitched around and scanned the room for something that wasn't there; his demonds. After he calmed down a bit he let out a sigh of anxiety rather than relief. He sat up on the side of his cot and wipped some of the sweat off his forehead.

     "Get the hell out of there..." he said to himself as he tapped the side of the bowie lightly against his head, but to no avail. Whatever began to haunt him now would stay in there for some time.

     His morning routine was the usual: checking the area of his hideout for infected stragelers that managed to make there way here, a short bath in the creek nearby (more like a rinse-off due to the fact that soap was difficult to find now), find some manner of canned goods for breakfast and sit in front of the highway map to search out towns to scavange supplies from, but this time he was searching for a route to Kent City. As far as he could tell he was about 7 miles north from Apple Avenue; the road he remembers the most from his childhood/adolecance.

     He couldn't believe this himself, but he decided to go back. Some factors helped him come to this decision. He wanted to see if there were any supplies left for him to scavange, see if anybody was left alive and, while he was there, piss on whats left of KC High School. His mind was made up after that last thought.

     He would need to prepear by grabbing some food, gathering his revolver, bowie knife and rifle and any ammunition he had, and grabbing his gear which included the following:

1x Thickley Padded Jacket

1x Czech Army M10M Gas Mask (Courtesey of an army surplus company)

1x Zippo Lighter (from zombie's corpse)

5x Sets of Fire Crakers

3x Molotov Cocktails

1x Swiss Army Satchel to put everything in as well as anything else he comes across

     Once he had all his gear together he put on the gas mask. Most people have difficulty with gas masks due to the fact that it was hard as hell to breath and gets very hot with the things on and people become winded after a while, but the survivor knew how to properly wear a gas mask and did so to keep from blood getting in his face, mouth and eyes to keep from becoming infected rather than breathing harmful gas, smoke or chemicals. The fire crackers were for distracting large groups of infected to a certain spot so he could move around without being detected and overwhelmed. As for the molotovs, well, lets just say they don't like being fried into little Jimmy Dean human saussage links.

     He stood for a moment to get use to the feeling of the gas mask being on his face and adjust his breathing. 'Man, it's been a while,' was all he could think as his breathing became labored, but soon that subsided and wearing the mask was like riding a bike; a cumbersome, hot and tiresome bike.

     All was set. Now he locked up everything to keep any stragllers from gettinginot the hideout while he was away. Not very often, mind you, but often enough to make it a problem and the only people that have ever come around are people that wish to rob him blind and leave him for dead. Becomes a problem when any survivor left is no better than the infected you're fighting against. THAT'S when you can tell that humanity has truely fallen.

...Huh...
...I guess it has fallen after all...
...Shit...