[center][i][img]http://i.imgur.com/GQesDmV.png[/img]The Washington-Lee Gymnasium[/i][/center]

The Washington-Lee High School had been a Fema evacuation point. When? Is not apparantly obvious, but the place looks pristine, so it could not have been long before the government pulled out of it. A few barren plastic tables and chairs are scattered throughout the gym's vast expanse, and a few clutters paper lay about the place. Upon further inspection, they appear to be various forms asking for an evacuee's credentials - although one of them catches the group's eye over the others. 

Written hastily in black marker on the back of one of the forms, is the following:

[center][i]NOT SAFE. DEAD INSIDE. MOVED TO EASTON. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO JOURNEY THERE ALONE.[/i][/center]

Well that's helpful. It was probably written in the opening days, when everyone was confident the National Guard would be more than enough to restore order. How wrong they were, and how wrong you were. 

The gym is enclosed on three sides by a solid brick wall, save for a fire door that leads out onto the green. You came in that way, barring it with a chair leg upon your entry. A few shamblers had spotted you flee the bus, and whilst the gun shots drew most of them away, you know a few stragglers are still heading for the school. 

As if to high light this point, the barred doors shudder as bloody palms start slamming against them from the other side. You all look down at the deceased man, and wonder if you'll share his fate.

A murmur breaks out from a side-cupboard, just off past the left bank of benches. It is a sound you know all too well, for you heard no intelligible words, just a muffled groan. There is the sound of something rolling along the polished floor, and everyone looks in the direction of the noise. A basket ball, stained with bloody hand prints, is making its way from the side-cupboard and comes to a standstill. Then you hear the disorganised footsteps of a shambler - no, shamblers. 

Sure enough, the first monstrosity to emerge from the cupboard is - was - a boy of 14 years. He's dressed in his school's attire, and missing his right arm below the elbow. Gore coats his face. Dead, white eyes fix the group with that souless, manic stare that is so common in shamblers.

Then another shambler appears. A fat old woman stuffed into a business suit, emerges from the cupboard. Aside from her crippling weight, she appears in better shape. Her gait is unnatural, there is no woddle as you would expect from a living person, but a purposeful march. Arms out stretched, she moans at your group hungrily.

The third shambler is a younger man, wearing a similar suit. You identify the intact FEMA badge on his chest immediately - so not everyone made it out in an orderly manner. His stomach has been gorged open, and his entrails hang from him like a sickly rope. Every few steps he trips on them, falling to the floor, only to crawl back to his feet in a gangling manner. 

The trio approach the group slowly, but with the primitive determination of the dead.

The group could run past them - the doors granting access to the rest of the school lay behind, and up two flights of stairs to the far left and right. However, would they want three of the dead following in their wake?