[i]This place isn't going to last much longer.[/i] Jake thought as he fiddled with his swiss army knife. Its once bright red color had faded and it was missing a couple of tools. He looked out over the camp, it was a mess. Still, he'd seen worse - the group of people that he'd passed by down at Manor Park hadn't lasted for more than a handful of days. He felt a shiver down his back as he recollected the shrill echo of screams as their blood plainted the walls. The Shenfield line was no longer safe [i]- was there such a place? -[/i] it crawled with mutated beasts. [i]Literally.[/i] He'd barely escaped a wallcrawler when he'd found his way to Dalston Junction and his new companion - what a stroke of luck that had been. He'd never seen such a large group of survivors before, although, he and his younger brother had avoided people so that wasn't much of a surprise. [i]Samuel.[/i] Jake let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall, he'd slept on concrete for a full week now and his back was sore.
The man to his right was talking to him, what was he going on about?

[i]"[...] from time to time you know? You've seen me praying ever day right? Twice every day even!"[/i]

His name was Fuaad, his yellowish skin and turban made him quite noticable among the people in Dalston. Most of the people here were locals who'd had parents or grandparents with brains enough to go underground when the bombing started. Not that it mattered, though. The beasts roaming Londons' underground had claimed just as many survivors. He and Fuaad had met at the Stratford crossing and travelled together from there. He'd grown fond of the somewhat charming man, well as fond as two complete strangers could be.

[i]" - I suggest we move south and travel against Hoxton. What do you say?"[/i]

The man had learned not to expect much of an answer from him, not with words anyway. Jake nodded to his companion as he stood up and stretched his arms over his head.