...It got worse. As a woman stumbled out of the fog she shouted out, "Harold? ...Harold?! There was no time as a tendril from the sewer drain whipped up around one of her legs and dragged her slowly down. She screamed and clawed at the pavement as she was draged to the small opening. More tentacles surged up as the leg was torn off ans she fainted thankfully to the sight of the others grabbing and pulling her into the storm drain whether the pieces fit or not the creatures didnt care. The wet crunching and snapping of bone could be heard until the last piece was gone and the blood streaks remained. 

Michael would have to run and hide during the trek. Some of the road signs hand been taken and probably turned into weapons. The fog made it nearly impossible to see the end of a street or even to the next intersection. Buildings were boarded up or broken into there was no in between. Though the streets had blood on them and some dried some streets seemed to be oddly blood free. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur or rotting meat. and yet some streets were scent free. It was a truly unnerving experience. It could easily be just the thing to drive lesser minds mad. Most of the map was accurate. Nothing really changed to the buildings or land marks where street signs were gone. The buildings that were marked as safe didnt stand out from the non safe ones. 

As Michael looked at the map he could hear another womans voice. Looking up on the third floor of the building a window was open and a older woman was waving and softly speaking. It was hard to make out from the distance. She was a dark haired woman who was in desperate need of a brush. Her long black unkept hair blew about her as she waved a semi white piece of cloth at Michael. Beckoning him to come closer. On the map she was in one of the safe buildings and it had a trader mark telling him it had the good people.