[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/szfyBv8.gif[/img][/center][indent] [color=c4df9b][sub][I]Hvass, Illinois[/I][/sub][/color][/indent][indent][color=c4df9b][sup][right][i]7:34 AM, CST[/i][/right][/sup][/color][/indent][hr][indent][color=c4df9b][sup][b]Main Street — [@TGM][/b][/sup][/color][/indent][indent][indent][indent]Mark Hansen leaned against an aging truck, his hands cupping a warm mug of black coffee. To his left and right, a few other Hvassians stood, drinking their own share of the coffee's pot. He had already been up for a few hours prior, still unable to break the workman habit of an early morning even in the face of the apocalypse. Before, it had simply been to pay off monthly bills; to earn a yearly salary. But now, his morning routine had a greater purpose: to ensure his family's survival. How could they improve the walls? What were they to do about rationing? More importantly, what if the fog came back? Such concerns regularly floated about in the back of his head. His thoughts harkened back twenty-odd years ago, back to when he was a draftee at the tail-end of the Vietnam War. Some of his experience, he felt, was still applicable, although they weren't dealing with an opposing army nor were they were a trained group of GIs. No, the town of Hvass was dealing with something far, far more dangerous; something he doubted the small rabble left in Hvass could survive. Had Copeland, the local pastor, been here, Mark figured he'd tell him to cast these worries away; to put his faith in God, that He would save them all. But whatever speech Copeland would've had prepared wouldn't have mattered. His faith in a higher power had long since been shaken. For all Mark knew, it seemed God had already cast them into the fires of Hell. [color=6ecff6]"Bring out your dead! BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!"[/color] A cyclist—Maddox, he and the rest of Hvass had recently come to known for his antics—shouted, interrupting Mark's solemn coffee drinking as he rode past the group and towards the crowd now leaving the furniture store. Almost immediately, Mark shook his head in disapproval, like a parent who had just watched his kid do something absolutely stupid. [color=c4df9b]"Kid's got some screws loose."[/color] He commented, taking a sip of his coffee. [color=c4df9b]"One of these days his [i]humor[/i] is going to get that smirk knocked off his face by the wrong person."[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]