[b]Clayton Burrows – Hill Country State Natural Area[/b]

The cold touch of a nearby draught gradually awoke Clayton from his beauty nap. The room was much darker than before, indicting night-time. As he started to come too he sees the walker hanging from the ceiling still swinging around like a circus monkey, desperate to be free and wild. He started to stand up slowly until he felt a great shot of pain hit his side. He started holding his hand on his hip and then swung around, inadvertently seeing himself in a cracked mirror. He was getting old. He looked some broken toy of a person found in a care home: damaged, unused and forgotten. He knows that he can’t simply walk into a clinic for some pain meds but it wouldn’t matter. He’s never liked visiting those clinics anyway. When you walk in, it’s just a window to your future: old and dependent. He goes to his bag and takes out some painkillers and pops them like they’re candy. A quick breeze scratched his face. The walker was getting closer; looks like determination dies hard. 

Clayton grabbed his gun and backpack and walked out of outpost. He looks behind him to see the walker still inside. The air will do it good. He leaves the door open to let the fresh smell of the world welcome him. The area was still as quiet and ominous as before. It was one of those areas where it seemed like man had never set foot. Some days, Clayton thinks he was born way too late. He loved all those stories of old about the frontier. As a kid he would explore the woods nearby in search of strange new things. That fond old memory brought a rare but appreciated smile to the old man’s face. He looked around and saw the truck still in the same place at it was before; rotting to death like a trapped deer in a bear-claw. It looked liked it hadn’t been used in months. A taillight was busted, the colours were faded, dusty and one of the wing mirrors was cracked. It’s lucky it still looks driveable. Then again, park ranger vehicles were made to last. 

He takes the key for the vehicle out of his jacket packet and places it in the car door keyhole. The key wasn’t budging at first but after some stiff resistance, the car opened. Inside was as empty as heaven. All there was dust. He takes his backpack off and throws it onto the passenger seat. It takes a small look around for good measure. It was extremely dark, with no lights to be seen. It was like looking into the eyes of god…nothing. Clayton must be quick. If there’s a horde around then he is finished. The outpost is made of wood; the creatures will make quick work of it. He shoves the car key into the ignition and proceeded to turn it. All that was heard for around was a deafening roar as the engine rose to life. It was a loud one which is not something to brag about in this world. The car beams were set to full already, making the dirt road in front quite clear to the human eye. He puts his foot down on the accelerator and heads on out to the undead frontier. 

[b]Clayton Burrows – Bandera TX, Main Street, opposite Gas Go Markets Gas Station[/b]

Clayton followed the road for miles now. The mileage above the steering wheel should he has driven about 15 miles now. Unfortunately most of the other gauges don’t even work. The temperature’s broken, revs broken and so has the speed gauge. Even though it doesn’t matter, a part of Clayton feels silently annoyed that it isn’t working but then again. He was domesticated by the old world into believing that every 5 miles, there’s a cop car waiting to bust him for speeding but there isn’t anymore. Not even nature cares if you decide to go 100 mile in a 20 zone. It was way too dark all around to see the environment but every so often he would see hints of abandoned vehicles and ripped out bodies. People described this place as well but Clayton sees this place as the character Oz. The curtain has been pulled away to show the true nature of reality. 

Clayton had just entered the small town of Bandera, Texas. It was eerily quiet on the way in, with nothing but the sound of the engine to drown out the silence. Clayton took caution when coming in. Towns are usually the major harbour for the undead and with car engine and headlights on in the middle of the dark attracted trouble. Clayton hopes to drive through quickly. This was not a place to stop for the night. However, lady luck was not on Clayton’s side as a small but effective burst caused the vehicle to start swaying recklessly on the road. With instinct, Clayton stopped the car suddenly before he toppled upside down. Clayton hopes he hit a body because if he’s got a burst tire then nature is truly testing him. Clayton took his gun and backpack, taking a torch out of the vehicle while doing so, and stepped outside into the dark to analyze the damage of the vehicle. Just as he thought: a burst fucking tire. Clayton cursed under his breath as he quickly looked into the back of the pick up. There’s no spare tyre. This is just getting great for Clayton, he’s stuck in a dark town with the possibility of being raided by either the undead or bandits. He needs to find a tyre quick and drive out. 

Clayton looks around as best as he can, he can only see fades of signs and buildings but in the bigger picture, it’s all just silhouettes. Clayton will only shine his light when necessary; he doesn’t need the attention of a light shining afar. A sign across the road was faint but he could slightly make out. It read ‘Shell’. He must be by a gas station. There may be a chance of a spare tyre around or, if lady luck doesn’t decide to sucker punch him again, there might be a mechanic’s garage nearby. There sometimes common around gas stations. He takes the keys out of the ignition, shutting the vehicle down while doing so. The engine and the beams will attract the wrong crowd if left on. He takes his gun off his arm and holds it in his right hand, proceeding to rest it on has shoulder; due to the weight of the rifle. The other hand is equipped with his torch for obvious reasons. He must be cautious when searching the station. It’s one of the most looted places in this new world. Sometimes, the true nature of the creatures of yesterday can be more terrifying than the true nature of today’s creatures.