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      A short, hooded figure walked slowly through the streets, the life sucked out of him. He almost looked like the lumbering corpses that now inhabited the general area. He'd been walking for a long, long while, and even then, he'd had to attempt to drive a car in the process. He'd eventually settled for a bike. It served him well, but a couple minutes back, the tyres gave their last breath. So he was stuck with trudging along the streets, exhausted as shit, starving to death.

      He could remember how it all happened, the night in Philadelphia when the walkers came. The boy had been sleeping soundly in his bed when his mother came and shook him, tears streaming from her eyes. He'd known something was wrong. He was rushed out of the house with a few belongings, and told to go to a place called [i]Wilmington[/i]. He hadn't spent much time listening in Geography, so all he knew was it was another place in Delaware, apparently more safe than Philadelphia. So he'd set off, saying his last words to his mother. As he was walking away, he heard screaming. That's when she died.

      And now, here he was. Walking around mindlessly in a random place. There was a crashed car, and a signpost on the floor at the side of it. He shuffled over to it, pushing it. Thank God he'd gotten used to playfighting with his mother. He managed to lift it slightly, for a long enough time to read the sign. He read it - [i]Welcome to Wilmington.[/i] He let it drop onto the bonnet, causing more damage to the car and-

      "[color=8B4513]JESUSFUCKINGDEADZOMBIEARGH![/color]" The hooded boy jumped back, however weak he was, his heart pumping fast. He stared at the double-dead corpse, with blood splattered across the seat behind it. Someone had clearly popped one in this old lady's head, and he just hoped to god they didn't come back. But he was [i]so[/i] tired, and his legs were burning. So, he walked over to the nearest house and sat down, propping himself up against the cold wall.