Joe_Bassett
September 30th, 2015, 04:28 AM
This next part is from the perspective of Matt. I thought I'd use it as a way to break up the action from part 3. I'm not completed with it yet but you guys can go ahead and take it apart. I will update it when it is ready. Thanks!
Two months after everything went to shit I still hadn't found my mom. I was staying in a makeshift refugee camp set up in a park by the city centre. I spent most of the hours of daylight out, searching. The days were getting noticeably shorter. Winter would set in soon. The military officers in charge of the camp were doing their best to ensure everyone was prepared. I hoped to find my mom before then.
I had managed to pick up a one person tent and a sleeping bag from a camping store during a raid organised by some men from the camp. They light enough for me to keep on my pack and I frequently brought them with me on search trips. Sometimes the weather would get bad and I would be stuck away from camp. There wasn't much of an atmosphere of trust at the camp either. Quite frankly, I didn’t feel all that safe about leaving my stuff there.
On another raid I picked up a Glock 19. Not the prettiest of firearms but it would do in a pinch. I also found a flashy revolver that I traded to a soldier for a couple hundred rounds of 9mm and a few MREs.
The camp was set up outside in the shelter of several office buildings ringing the park. Most people had managed to square away a room inside but some of us younger people lived outside. The soldiers had set up a field hospital in one building and another building was a makeshift administrative office. We could have easily spread out and inhabited some more buildings but few people were willing to live even that much further from the relative safety of the soldiers.
The main camp area comprised of an open air mess hall, a smattering of tents, and a few latrines to supplement the few working toilets in the buildings. One of the tents served as a little PX from which one could purchase anything from a toothbrush to the newest cache of semi automatic weapons.
I wasn't the only teenager there. I was, however, the only teenager without a family member or friend at the camp. The few adolescents at the camp rarely interacted with me and I usually kept my distance. There was no point making friends. I think everyone just assumed I was going to disappear into the concrete jungle one day.
This particular day I was sitting inside the food court of what was left of a shopping centre. Ordinarily this place would be bustling with life; instead it was completely dead. The air was thick and infused with the smell of decaying food.
I rested for a brief moment and then shouldered my backpack. I had heard rumors that a group of survivors were holed up either in or around this shopping centre. So far I had seen neither sight nor sound of them. It had taken me half the day to get to where I was now and it looked like I would have to spend the night here. Not the most ideal situation. The nights were the most dangerous.
About three hours after I left Sam on her driveway the group responsible for the bombings transmitted a single, short broadcast on the radio. They claimed that their mission was to create a 'new better America' and that those deemed "unfit" would be purged slowly by the process of natural selection. One of their methods of "natural selection" was to go out after dark and attack, capture, or kill any survivors they encountered.
I walked through the lower levels of the shopping centre, thankful that in this situation, there were no zombies. I don't think I would have lasted this long if there were zombies. I'd probably be a zombie too.
Shards of glass crunched under my feet. The entire mall probably had been looted completely in around two weeks. The stores themselves were empty and shelving was strewn about. Something fell from not too far to my right. I froze for a brief second and then reached for my gun. Whatever it was I wouldn't go down without a fight. There was another clatter, this time to my left.
My heart was racing and I began to move very slowly into the cover of one of the shops. I slipped quietly behind a unit of shelving and crouched there, almost too nervous to breathe. From my position I had a partial view of the walkway I had left. There was some more clattering and then some footsteps. I took my pistol off safety and prepared myself for the worst.
Two months after everything went to shit I still hadn't found my mom. I was staying in a makeshift refugee camp set up in a park by the city centre. I spent most of the hours of daylight out, searching. The days were getting noticeably shorter. Winter would set in soon. The military officers in charge of the camp were doing their best to ensure everyone was prepared. I hoped to find my mom before then.
I had managed to pick up a one person tent and a sleeping bag from a camping store during a raid organised by some men from the camp. They light enough for me to keep on my pack and I frequently brought them with me on search trips. Sometimes the weather would get bad and I would be stuck away from camp. There wasn't much of an atmosphere of trust at the camp either. Quite frankly, I didn’t feel all that safe about leaving my stuff there.
On another raid I picked up a Glock 19. Not the prettiest of firearms but it would do in a pinch. I also found a flashy revolver that I traded to a soldier for a couple hundred rounds of 9mm and a few MREs.
The camp was set up outside in the shelter of several office buildings ringing the park. Most people had managed to square away a room inside but some of us younger people lived outside. The soldiers had set up a field hospital in one building and another building was a makeshift administrative office. We could have easily spread out and inhabited some more buildings but few people were willing to live even that much further from the relative safety of the soldiers.
The main camp area comprised of an open air mess hall, a smattering of tents, and a few latrines to supplement the few working toilets in the buildings. One of the tents served as a little PX from which one could purchase anything from a toothbrush to the newest cache of semi automatic weapons.
I wasn't the only teenager there. I was, however, the only teenager without a family member or friend at the camp. The few adolescents at the camp rarely interacted with me and I usually kept my distance. There was no point making friends. I think everyone just assumed I was going to disappear into the concrete jungle one day.
This particular day I was sitting inside the food court of what was left of a shopping centre. Ordinarily this place would be bustling with life; instead it was completely dead. The air was thick and infused with the smell of decaying food.
I rested for a brief moment and then shouldered my backpack. I had heard rumors that a group of survivors were holed up either in or around this shopping centre. So far I had seen neither sight nor sound of them. It had taken me half the day to get to where I was now and it looked like I would have to spend the night here. Not the most ideal situation. The nights were the most dangerous.
About three hours after I left Sam on her driveway the group responsible for the bombings transmitted a single, short broadcast on the radio. They claimed that their mission was to create a 'new better America' and that those deemed "unfit" would be purged slowly by the process of natural selection. One of their methods of "natural selection" was to go out after dark and attack, capture, or kill any survivors they encountered.
I walked through the lower levels of the shopping centre, thankful that in this situation, there were no zombies. I don't think I would have lasted this long if there were zombies. I'd probably be a zombie too.
Shards of glass crunched under my feet. The entire mall probably had been looted completely in around two weeks. The stores themselves were empty and shelving was strewn about. Something fell from not too far to my right. I froze for a brief second and then reached for my gun. Whatever it was I wouldn't go down without a fight. There was another clatter, this time to my left.
My heart was racing and I began to move very slowly into the cover of one of the shops. I slipped quietly behind a unit of shelving and crouched there, almost too nervous to breathe. From my position I had a partial view of the walkway I had left. There was some more clattering and then some footsteps. I took my pistol off safety and prepared myself for the worst.