The old man stumbled towards the school building, his breathing harsh and labored. Anyone who looked at him would see an old man pushed to near exhaustion, his clothes torn and bloody, some of the blood his own, some of it the black blood of the dead. He pushed on, forcing himself to move towards what looked like a sanctuary. One that had living people inside.

Reaching the doors, he collapsed against them. His knocks were weak and left smears of blood behind. His voice was hoarse from lack of water when he called out. [color=9e0b0f]"Hello...? Help... Someone... please...!"[/color]

When the door opened he nearly fell inside. Propped up by whoever had opened the door, the old man flashed a small but genuinely relieved smile. [color=9e0b0f]God bless you... please... water..."[/color]
He was brought to the cafeteria and given a bottle of water, which he guzzled gratefully. [color=9e0b0f]"Thank you... thank you... God bless... God bless you... Please, may I speak to whoever is leader here? I need help desperately. Please, I beg you. I became separated from my group. I fear they are all dead."[/color]