[b]Henry "Hank" Gunderson - Baton Rouge[/b]

The sounds of gunshots rang through the street in Baton Rouge where Hank was scrambling up a fire escape, firing rounds from his 9mm pistol into the horde of undead. He felt a rough hand grab onto his left foot, and immediately kicked whatever it was in what felt like its face. Hank fired one more round into the horde, and an eater fell to the ground. After doing so, he quickly got up out of reach. 

Hank stopped for a minute to regain his breath and stamina, leaning against the brickwall of the apartment building. "Jesus Christ.." he muttered. Observing the horde of eaters, Hank estimated that there were about 30 of them, all desperate to tear into his skin. He stood up, stuck his handgun in his belt, and pulled his aluminum baseball bat out of the makeshift sheath he had made from cloth.

Wiping the sweat off of his forehead, Hank crawled through the window into the second floor apartment. It was very dark, and a rotting corpse lay on the floor, with a handgun next to it. The guy must have blown his brains out. After examining the pistol that was on the floor, Hank found that it used the same ammunition as his own. "It's not like the guy needs it anymore.." Hank said to himself as he unloaded the seven rounds in the clip, and put the gun in his messenger bag. If he encountered any other survivors, Hank might be able to trade the gun for other supplies.

After searching the apartment for other useful items, Hank left through the door and cautiously checked to see if other rooms were unlocked. None were. He figured he would try and break in tomorrow, and found a safe spot to rest.