Another fence. Hazel slowly tossed her duffel over the wooden palisade and then hoisted herself to the other side, where she found the grass not much greener, but at least the woods seemed less dense a ways off. Regardless, this was the direction her maps and compass insisted she go, so she would have made this path even had the woods become even more prickly and thick, though she really couldn't imagine such a thing was possible. Thank God for this thick leather jacket and tough denim jeans: maybe not practical for the weather, but at least she wasn't leaving a bloody trail behind her. Or, at least a trail of her own blood. Infected... well, you had to do what you had to do.
Hazel stifled a yawn and knelt, picking back up her duffel and checking her trajectory before trudging along again. She could still hear that stupid clicking noise, and there was nothing worse for trying to sleep. Sure, they wouldn't bother you while you were sleeping, but waking up to be surrounded by Bats had been possibly the scariest time of her life. At least they weren't supernatural zombies or anything, but waiting 3 hours for them to move on, holding her breath in suspense the whole time, wasn't something she wanted to do again. So no, thank you very much, she wouldn't be getting any sleep yet. Not until she'd left that sound at least an hour behind her.
She knew where they were, that old church just on the other side of the thick wild growth that she was putting behind her. Had been quite the congregation there, poor lost sheep who weren't even human anymore. Maybe God would have mercy on their souls anyway. But that meant that if she wanted a safe distance between herself and those things, she'd have to manage another hour without finding anything. And the past few days, luck had not been with her. She'd think she'd finally found a nice safe-enough place, and just over the next hill, bam, another stupid hoard of mushrooms. Wherever this wood broke, it better be some desolate field with nothing in sight.
Houses weren't safe, at least the ones with multiple floors. Always happened to be sick in the basements, always the basements. And a nice one-room place with a bed was an invitation to get yourself murdered by whoever happened to pass that way next. As much as life went on much the same as it did before, there was now an ever-present fear in every moment. Zombies would kill you, hunters would kill you, the poor people you'd stumble upon would point their weapons at you, insisting you leave. "We don't know if you're infected."
Well did she look infected? Sure, her eyes were probably dead-looking from lack of sleep, she was dirty, her clothes were bloodied... but really, no, no she didn't. Mushrooms didn't carry around duffel bags! Or wear respirators and goggles... most of the time. Those that did sure were a blessing, though, it was how she'd managed to gather such an impressive array of filters (not that all of them matched her gas mask, but she was pretty sure that if worst came to worst, she could swap out the filter material from one of those into a fitting one). Thinking of which... Hazel glanced down at the yellow indicator on her filter and then back around. She'd be good for another few days unless she ran into more spores. And she was okay on food, and firearms. It was ammo that she really could have used. She only had four more shells in her KSG, handy buckshot that would flatten even the most persistent buggers, but which was hard to just come by out in the wild. She had .380 for her PPK in plenty, and 22LR for another one, but the infected took too many rounds of that caliber to be truly useful. Took half a magazine of 22LR to take down a Bat.
Ah, there was light pouring in beyond those trees, surely... yes. Hazel broke through the trees and shielded her eyes. A road, and beyond it, more woods. Not the best situation, but safe enough. She made her way a few yards into the woods on the other side and collapsed against a tree. Any would do, there was enough leaf cover to hide her under any of them. After a few moments, she unzipped her duffel, pulled out her forest-camo camping blanket, slunk under it, and lay her head back on the bag. Finally, she could get some sleep. Hopefully she'd still be sane when she awoke.
Hazel stifled a yawn and knelt, picking back up her duffel and checking her trajectory before trudging along again. She could still hear that stupid clicking noise, and there was nothing worse for trying to sleep. Sure, they wouldn't bother you while you were sleeping, but waking up to be surrounded by Bats had been possibly the scariest time of her life. At least they weren't supernatural zombies or anything, but waiting 3 hours for them to move on, holding her breath in suspense the whole time, wasn't something she wanted to do again. So no, thank you very much, she wouldn't be getting any sleep yet. Not until she'd left that sound at least an hour behind her.
She knew where they were, that old church just on the other side of the thick wild growth that she was putting behind her. Had been quite the congregation there, poor lost sheep who weren't even human anymore. Maybe God would have mercy on their souls anyway. But that meant that if she wanted a safe distance between herself and those things, she'd have to manage another hour without finding anything. And the past few days, luck had not been with her. She'd think she'd finally found a nice safe-enough place, and just over the next hill, bam, another stupid hoard of mushrooms. Wherever this wood broke, it better be some desolate field with nothing in sight.
Houses weren't safe, at least the ones with multiple floors. Always happened to be sick in the basements, always the basements. And a nice one-room place with a bed was an invitation to get yourself murdered by whoever happened to pass that way next. As much as life went on much the same as it did before, there was now an ever-present fear in every moment. Zombies would kill you, hunters would kill you, the poor people you'd stumble upon would point their weapons at you, insisting you leave. "We don't know if you're infected."
Well did she look infected? Sure, her eyes were probably dead-looking from lack of sleep, she was dirty, her clothes were bloodied... but really, no, no she didn't. Mushrooms didn't carry around duffel bags! Or wear respirators and goggles... most of the time. Those that did sure were a blessing, though, it was how she'd managed to gather such an impressive array of filters (not that all of them matched her gas mask, but she was pretty sure that if worst came to worst, she could swap out the filter material from one of those into a fitting one). Thinking of which... Hazel glanced down at the yellow indicator on her filter and then back around. She'd be good for another few days unless she ran into more spores. And she was okay on food, and firearms. It was ammo that she really could have used. She only had four more shells in her KSG, handy buckshot that would flatten even the most persistent buggers, but which was hard to just come by out in the wild. She had .380 for her PPK in plenty, and 22LR for another one, but the infected took too many rounds of that caliber to be truly useful. Took half a magazine of 22LR to take down a Bat.
Ah, there was light pouring in beyond those trees, surely... yes. Hazel broke through the trees and shielded her eyes. A road, and beyond it, more woods. Not the best situation, but safe enough. She made her way a few yards into the woods on the other side and collapsed against a tree. Any would do, there was enough leaf cover to hide her under any of them. After a few moments, she unzipped her duffel, pulled out her forest-camo camping blanket, slunk under it, and lay her head back on the bag. Finally, she could get some sleep. Hopefully she'd still be sane when she awoke.