The blanket was corse, its bristle like fibers feeling more akin to needles. Nonetheless Lee pulled it tighter around him. The mattress could barely be called that - an old sheet wrapped around a mix of fabric scraps and what little feather down could be spared. His tent was small, built only for one. What few belongings he had were scattered beside his bed, the rest of the space bare and empty. His holster was empty. A single magazine missing from the set. His hands, clamy with sweat, grasped the gun beneath the blanket. The cold maw of the barrel kissed his jaw, directed to his brain. His finger lingered on the trigger. He wouldn't be the first to find escape from this world and doubtless he wouldn't be the last. Just another name on a growing list. What difference would it make, hardly anyone would notice he was gone. Here for a month and then gone. Within weeks no one would even remember his name... Yet he hesitated. He lowered the gun and let his finger fall from the trigger. He was scared. Too afraid of what he would face after life to let himself embrace the end. Another day, another wasted attempt.
He ejected the magazine and let it fall with a clatter onto the floor. The gun followed, empty and harmless. He lay there, the blanket prickling his skin, the noise of the late evening merely white noise to him. He hasn't left his bed for three days now, he'd barely eaten either. Condemning himself to an empty, lifeless stupor. Despite his permanent residence in bed he'd hardly slept. Death seemed to have already accepted him despite the beat of his heart. His grey eyes, sunken and heavy, gradually drifted shut and he welcomed sleep for the first time in days.
-
The screaming hit with the power of a shotgun, his heart leaping at the confines of his ribcage with the force of a wild beast. Lee was jarred awake and fell from bed, his belongings scattering as he kicked out, panic striken. Although he was now awake what he was greeted with was like a nightmare. The screaming rattled in his head, shaking lose the memories of that night: the mad rush among the scuffle, crawling through the mud, desperately searching for light, having to claw his way over the bodies of friends in the hopes of escaping the madness...
It was several minutes until Lee could bring himself back to the present. He found himself hyperventilating, cowering and curled up in a corner, drenched in a cold sweat . The flashback had hit him hard, then sudden screams a shock to his system. He fought to calm himself as he slowly rose to shaking legs. It was only then that he noticed the distinct absence of light. Now he understood why the screams had rung out, no lights meant they were vulnerable. He heard the tail end of the announcement and assumed he should do as told. He pulled on his combat pants and vest before scooping up his gun and a magazine from the floor. He took his first few steps outside cautiously, trying to avoid crossing anyone's path. Hs flicked on the monted light on the gun and used it to guide his way in the darkness. Once he reached the square he lingered on the edge of the crowd. His skin was likely palest white and sickly looking but now wasn't a time to be concerned with such things.