With no immediate response coming from the door, Horus set aside his worries and smoked his cigar once again. [color=fff79a][i]"Just in case..."[/i][/color], Horus self-commented, sticking his hand through the gaps in the back-door's boards and carving a serial number into the front of the corroding wood. Though a little hard to understand, the message came ultimately out as [color=fff79a][i]'4137'[/i][/color], the identification numeral of Horus's battalion before the Union Staduim incident.
Firing a few more shots into the swarming zombies tearing at the front of the Motel, whom's destructive progress was proceeding rather slowly, Horus strolled back over to the concierge's desk. [color=fff79a][i]"Oooo... What a pretty you are..."[/i][/color], Horus commented, looking at a usable replica of a confederate cavalry spear displayed prominently on the mantel of the small office. Taking it down, Horus distributed thrusts against the zombies hopelessly punching at the window, the attacks too quick for the ghouls to grasp the weapon before it was pulled back once again. [color=fff79a][i]"I'm keeping you..."[/i][/color], Horus said lovingly to the weapon before looting more of the knickknacks hidden within the lobby.

       In all, Horus found;[list]
[*][b]Calvary Lance;[/b] Long range spear
[*][b]Copper Wiring;[/b] Salvaged from a broken lamp.
[*][b]Complimentary Water Bottles;[/b] More Rations, More of a Chance.[/list]
Chuckling slightly, Horus climbed the creaking stairs up to the second level of the Motel, Shooting the head of a rogue zombie clean off it's shoulders as he did.