[INDENT][INDENT][sub][hr][/sub][color=#c3b091][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=gray][I]Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkins' Diner[/I][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][SUP][RIGHT][b]Date:[/b] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4952137][COLOR=gray][I]May 15th, 2019[/I][/COLOR][/url][/right][/SUP][/color][sub][hr][/sub]
[INDENT]
Cassidy Montoya was growing restless. Ever since the start of the apocalypse she'd developed a routine to ensure her own survival: daytime was spent either scavenging for supplies or staying on the move, trying to make her way out of town. Nighttime, when the Dead were obscured by the dark, was when she'd hunker down and get a few hours' rest. It was draining, of course, but Cass figured it was her best chance at staying alive.

Ever since she'd wrapped herself with these other survivors, though, things had changed.

They didn't travel for as long as she would've liked. Took a little too long whenever they stopped to scavenge. Spent too much time resting or strategizing. It made her anxious. Every second they spent sitting around in this diner felt like a risk. What happened when that broadcast ended and the dead descended on them? There were too many to fight off, and the building didn't have enough exits for Cass's liking- if those things managed to surround the group before they could scamper away, they'd be royally fucked.

There were strength in numbers, but...why'd she get stuck with [i]these[/i] guys? 

[color=c3b091]"How much longer do we got before that broadcast ends?"[/color] She spoke up suddenly, turning to look up at Karen as she started to make her way toward the kitchen. Cass had collapsed up against the diner's far wall when they first arrived, setting her overstuffed bag down beside her so she could use it as a makeshift pillow. Now that they were talking about actually picking through the supplies and moving out, though, Montoya was quick to get back to her feet.

[color=c3b091]"I don't like the idea of waitin' another hour fer the next one 'fore we get outta here. There's way too many'a those things right outside to risk it."[/color] 

She glanced briefly at the other members of their little troupe, trying to calculate how the four of them would do if they ended up cornered. All of 'em were armed to some level, and at least [i]appeared[/i] to be healthy and active; neither of those would matter much if they didn't have the stomach for a fight with, y'know, [i]the living dead[/i]. Not that Montoya could really blame 'em or anything. She was still having trouble accepting that this wasn't a fucked up fever dream or a trip gone horribly wrong.

[color=c3b091][i]Sooner we get to that camp the better. We'll be able to wait this shitstorm out there, n' maybe...maybe Riley'll have made it out there too.[/i][/color] 
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