[b]Peachtree Tower,
Alanta, Georgia
United States of America[/b]

Brian lay there in the sun, its warmth spilling over him as his friends swam in the pool among the floats. Laughing manically as they splashed water at one another, Brian smiled to himself. Their manic childish laughter echoed around him like the chattering of rifle fire - he took the last of his fresh lemonade and poured it over his dry lips, just a few drips dropped down and their cool touch soon disappeared. 

Brian opened his eyes.

The sun was just rising over the city and its rays crept around the stone pillar to his right and streaked across his waking face. Below him in the streets he heard gunshots one after the other, ripping through infected flesh, or maybe just normal flesh. Brian hoped not.

Humans were dying out, the entire city was eerily silent for the most part. Some days Brian would go round with nothing but his own breath and the sound of his footsteps to keep him company. Lifting his hands from under himself he rolled over, blinking as a drop of water impacted on his cheek. Wiping it from his face he sat up with his arms behind him and arched his neck back until he heard the satisfying click. Falling onto his back once more, he rolled onto his front and pushed himself up and off the floor. He had set up camp at the very top of the Tower, good vantage point and plenty of fresh air for the lungs. The whole place had been under maintenance so he climbed up the scaffolding, almost falling a few times, he took the rope the builders had been using to pulley up a bucket , and took it all the way to the top. Tying it around one of the pillars and securing it with another rope, he made a nice little secure hold to grip when he took himself down to street level.

Today was the day Brian had decided to venture down into the tower. He knew that the top two floors should be empty because they were closed off and not in use, but you never know. Taking the bucket from under the drip in the left corner he splashed water over his face and searching blindly for his towel. His hands scanning over his rucksack he gripped the soft material and held it to his face, dabbing the beads of now dirty water away and squeezing the remains from his beard. [i]Shaving foam.[/i] Brian thought.

[i]I need myself some shaving foam. [/i]