[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/42rCUGr.jpg[/img][/center][hr] [i]How did it spread so fast?!?[/i] was Lizzie's thought as she fearfully treaded through the seemingly deserted streets of New York. Well, she wasn't really thinking about how fast it spread here, considering that the hospital she had been working in, in upper Manhattan, was basically ground zero of the outbreak. But when she had first escaped from here, taking a luxury speedboat out to sea, she thought she would be escaping the worst of it. However, when she reached the next port a state over, she had found undead everywhere and crowding the docks, even animals. The victims of people who, like her, sought refuge by way of the oceans, but were now themselves one of the very things that they were trying to flee from in the first place. She barely made it back to New York before the boat's supply of fuel was exhausted. She considered taking her chances with the sea, maybe head back to England, where she was reasonably certain that this outbreak hadn't reached yet. Plus, having lived with a fisherman for a father, she knew a thing or two about keeping herself fed and alive. But she still needed fresh water, and significantly more supplies and fuel than her present mode of transportation had, in order to make the journey to England. That unfortunately meant she had to return to the docks, and begin the arduous task of scavenging from what was most likely to be a massive dead zone, where other looters or survivors would have already taken what they could for themselves. And she would need a bigger boat or a sailing yacht that could function without fuel if necessary. This was the only reason and motivation for returning here. And considering that the original source of the outbreak can be traced back to a dock much like the one she had left her boat in, where Patient Zero had been brought in to her hospital, and began to spread the illness. If whatever it did to people and animals could be called an illness. They were, in every sense of the word, dead. But yet, they moved, driven by an insatiable hunger for warm flesh and blood. The docks had been relatively clear, and she left in bright daylight, where she could see best. From what little she had learned of them, these "zombies" could still see and hear pretty well, so it was best to stay out of sight and to minimize noise. Just as well she didn't wear leather that creaked with every move. But the problem would be dogs and cats...and rats. They had greater senses than humans, which carried on even in their infected states. She was forced to lure a dog into a tipped over cement truck when she approached it from behind, thinking it was living, but when she saw the greyed eyes and the massive gash on its left flank which she had missed earlier, she narrowly avoided turning into one of the living dead as it pursued her. It was only dumb luck that she found the still churning cement truck and when she climbed over it, the dog leapt at her, but went into the hole, where the turning cement sealed the dog into a stony tomb. Now, her teeth chattering from fear, she began to slink out into the street, mindful for animals and humans living and unliving, because she was reasonably certain survivors would fall into two categories: Deadly, or very skilled, and she couldn't be sure who could be trusted. At least with the dead, they only had one goal. With the living, it could be anything, and the risk was too great. She just wanted to go home. To get away from all this, and maybe to bring what valuable information she had to the governments, so that what happened here could be avoided elsewhere. They needed to find a "cure" or a solution, but it wasn't going to be her, smart as she might be in the field. She didn't have the resources or equipment to do anything with the material and data she had. So she had to survive, had to escape all this. She might very well be the only living being left with some measure of knowledge in this, and how to start solving it. But she also needed to get some food, or she wasn't even going to make the night. Her clothes might not make noise when she moved, but her stomach would be giving her away soon if the growling continued. She froze. Was the growling just her stomach? Or was that something else she was hearing? Slowly turning her head, she scanned the streets, and looked behind her, where she still kept half her body within the doorframe of her chosen safehouse of the day. She'd thoroughly checked the place through, and she was confident even rats couldn't get in here. But Lizzie was a paranoid girl, and that had saved her more than once lately. But there was a dog on the street and she stifled a gasp, whispering, [color=pink]“Oh Lord...”[/color] when she saw a young man, possibly her age or younger, escaping from a bus, and trying to move cautiously away from something, she couldn't quite see from where she was, but that was not Lizzie's concern. She was now wondering whether to forego her general idea of avoiding contact or trying to help him by alerting him to her presence. She was not the best at judging people by look, and he looked like he needed help, but how would she know? For all she knew, he might slit her throat in her sleep, or worse... And he wasn't the only person out there. [i]God please don't let him be bad,[/i] the girl prayed fervently, and she knelt low to the ground, holding the door open to the house she was in, looking right at him, she went, [color=pink]“Psst!”[/color] That was the loudest call she was willing to give. Whatever he was trying to avoid, would hopefully ignore the noise. If he failed to hear that, then she wasn't going to take any further risks. This was already too dangerous as it was. The house she was in was reasonably boarded up and fortified. Indefinitely, she could hide away in here as long as supplies were available. Which meant this was only a temporary solution. There was almost nothing left in her supply of food and water. If this boy saw her and came to her, then they'd have to scrounge somehow. All this went through her head as she watched the boy, trying to make eye contact. [i]Please do not be a psycho, oh, please do not be a psycho...[/i]