Scenario #5 A Stray [Marcus, Lindsey, Joe and Haleigh only]

[i]Bzzzzzz......bzzzzz. "It is 6:15pm, Tuesday, August 16. This is Lance Kraft, if you are listening to me, congratulations you have survived another day of this apocalypse we live in. In case you haven't heard there is a shelter in Chicago called Black Mountain, formerly known as the Sears Tower. They can provide you shelter, food, water, a new way of life I hope. Ladies and gentlemen you have a goal, a reason to keep living. Make it to Black Mountain, don't give up hope on a cure. This is Lance Kraft, I'll be back soon because just like you. I need to live as well."[/i]

No one heard the message, the only thing that can be heard are the moans and scrapes of Zed as they approach the buzzing feedback of the radio.

[i]One Hour later[/i]

The sound of a dirt bike can be heard down the vacant road, as Marcus flies down the block as turns the corner. There isn't much time before sunset, but the route is too easy he will be back at the campsite within half a hour, finally making to his destination, he parks his bike and slowly approaches the stairs, his machete drawn. He halts as he approaches the door and notices it has a green circle spray painted on it. He swipes at it with his free hand and it smears. Still fresh, he pushes the door open and casually enters the abandoned club, he heads toward the bar and looks behind the counter, grasping each bottle and shaking it to see if there is any remain of alcohol left he strikes gold as he pulls up half a liter of vodka. He stuffs it into his bag and heads towards the backroom. Just as he thought, the room was stripped, hardly anything left except for the rotting corpses of what seems to be the owner, and a few waitresses. He lets out a sigh as he scans the area a bit more, to see if there is anything else he can grab that could be useful. After ten minutes of searching and coming up short, he makes his towards the entrance, until he notices a shadowy figure, then another and another then finally the moans.

"Shit." He mutters "You have got to be kidding me." He retreats behind the bar, holds his breath as he hears them scrape by, their unbearable stench fills the bar causing his stomach to churn, their moan lingering throughout the alleyway, and growing louder and louder. The door creaks open and the sound of furniture scraping and falling over as a few begin to enter. Marcus grips the handle of his machete tightly, as one zombie approaches the bar and props over the counter. It's as if it knows he's there as it turns it's head towards Marcus's direction his moan turns into a shriek, and his mouth begins to chomp as it reaches out towards Marcus only to be greeted by his machete in between the eyes. As he drives his weapon into it's skull into it's brain the other zombies begin to turn their focus onto him, shrieking and quickly approaching him. He pulls out his machete and makes a run for it towards the backroom. Slamming the door behind him and using a chair to keep it shut, giving him sometime to find an escape route. The door begins to giveaway as it cracks under the constant pressure of the zombies pressing their weight and repeatedly knocking on it. Light begins to seep through the cracks, Marcus runs down the dark path, and constantly searching. Finally an emergency exit and not a moment later as the door bursts open and the zombies fall in, trampling each other as they make their way towards him. He swings the door open, only to be greeted by a couple of more that lunge at him, he side steps to the left juking the first zombie, then drives his machete into the next one, and makes his escape, as he runs out of the building he finds himself in an alley, zombies blocking the path to the street, he looks up towards the fire escape ladder. He tries to pull it down, it's not moving, shakes it vigorously again. Still not moving, the zombies begin closing in on him, strafing and moaning. When all hope seems to be lost, the ladder falls down in front of him, not questioning it he begins to climb to the roof. Finally safe, he takes a moment to remove his helmet and wipe the sweat from his face. He looks down and spots a clearing, and what looks like a ghost in jeans running towards the woods. Maybe that was his savior, but how did it manage to escape? It doesn't matter now, what's important is that he is now stuck on a roof, and the only thing he has to drink is some vodka. That is until he hears the familiar sound of dirt bikes approaching.