Stepping down and off the ladder, Brian found himself confronted with the most peculiar sight. The entire room was covered in white blankets and sheets, the occasional splash of colourful paint on walls, bodies strewn in all directions. In a pile in the corner were some of these white sheets, it wasn't cold at night by any stretch of the word, but he could use them none the less. Throwing a few over his shoulder at a time, he made 3 runs carrying them to the top then returning for more. When he returned and there were none left to collect, he began to move the bodies and sheets aside, wrapping the corpses in white and rolling them off to the right hand side.

Once he had done this, after around 20 minutes, he headed for the far door which led out and onto the balcony that surrounded the huge room. At first the wide door wouldn't budge, so he gave it a quick knock with his shoulder and it burst free. The wind rushed through Brian’s hair and made his eyes water, stepping out and looking across the way, Brian saw someone come out of the door on the roof of the building opposite, around a storey shorter than the Peachtree. They walked to the edge and looked like they were about to jump - it was only then that Brian saw the walkers following him.

"Don’t do it! No!" Brian screamed desperately, his voice being snatched by the wind.

Hurriedly lifting his pistol from its holster, Brian placed his right gun hand wrist on his left forearm and aimed carefully for the door. The man down there, at least they looked male, had taken his own gun out too. Firing one shot, he saw the bullet rip through an infected torso and watched it drop to the floor, his second shot completely missed.

[i]Why isn't he shooting?[/i]

Firing desperately into the mob of infected Brian hit only a few, there were too many, he saw the man looking up to him, his arm raising to his head, and  Brian saw him fall backwards as his head jerked to one side. The infected swarmed on the body, and he had to look away. [i]Fuck!
[/i]

Walking back into the room Brian closed the window and sat on one of the expensive chairs, throwing his feet up onto the table. This wasn't how people were meant to die; this wasn't how it was meant to be. After a long time lying back with his eyes closed, with such thoughts running through his head, Brian got up off the chair and began to search the room for anything he might find useful.

He would try and make his way to the opposite building, give that man a proper funeral somehow.