Despite everything, Theodore Richford was still standing. The old world was dead and gone, nothing but memories in the minds of the precious few who were still alive. The new world was a harsh and unforgiving place. Most of humanity had fallen in the first weeks, and those that survived found that they were no longer at the top of the food chain. Monsters lurked in the dark, now. The undead were the most plentiful by far, but they were also far from the most dangerous.
Ted was lucky enough to be away from civilization when the world ended. He was a hunter then, stalking deer in the Pennsylvania wilderness. At first, he didn't even know the world had ended. Away from civilization, the signs that something was wrong came gradually. Radio stations changing to repeated warnings, then silence. Abandoned vehicles on the road, seemingly broken into. The buzzing of insects grew louder, then the shuffling of feet in the night. Things, shapes moving in the darkness.
Adapting to this new world wasn't easy, but he managed. He had plenty of experience with living off the land, and he knew the area well. But above all else, he was a skilled hunter. The prey was like nothing he had faced before, and unlike the deer, they fought back. But for all their differences, all their alien features, they weren't immune to bullets. So, he hunted them.
The storm was relentless, and Ted knew he had to find shelter before exposure and exhaustion put an end to him. He wasn't sure where he was, but it seemed like he had wandered into a town, or maybe a city. The undead would likely be nearby, but he hadn't seen any sign of them so far. Still, he couldn't let himself be caught off guard. He'd have to find shelter soon- a building he could secure, or at least a place where he could set up a lean-to. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find a working car to replace the one that had broken down on him hours earlier.
But in the night, he couldn't see anything. Finally, he rounded the corner, where a street lamp stood bright against the darkness. The building next to it had its lights on, beckoning him in. Despite the strangeness of it all, something compelled him to go inside. Something about the area made him feel safer. So, he opened the door, and walked in.
As he shut the door behind him, the others in the bar would be able to get a good look at him. He appeared to be middle-aged, and his skin was pale. He was a gaunt figure, the demands of the new world having dealt a heavy toll to his body. He was incredibly skinny, and the look on his face was that of someone who hadn't slept in a long time. He wore a dark green knit hat, with some of his black hairs poking out, as well as an old Army jacket, cargo pants, and hiking boots. He had a rucksack and a rifle strapped to his back, and a shotgun in his right hand. Everything was covered by a clear plastic poncho, thrown over his other clothing to protect it from the rain.
Looking around, he immediately noticed that he wasn't alone. A bartender and someone in a hoodie, who was sitting at the bar. The impossibility of the scenario was obvious. A place like this couldn't exist, not in a city, or even a small town. But despite everything, no horde of undead appeared to smash through the windows and break down the doors. Somehow, this place existed, and he was here. Something about it told him that, despite how impossible it seemed, he had nothing to fear.
So, after giving the bartender a nod, he wiped off his boots, then walked over to the wall. He took off the poncho first, folding it up and placing it down before placing his rucksack, rifle, and shotgun next to it. Finally, he took off his hat and placed it on top of the rucksack, before walking over to the bar and sitting down, one seat away from the stranger. After a few moments, he looked up at the bartender. "Hey..." He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. Looking over at the stranger, he noticed the menu in front of them. "Uh...could I have a menu?"
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