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Wandering Thoughts

Who knew how long it'd been? With each passing day, Keith felt as though he could watch the buildings become more and more worn down. Rotting away into nothing but a pile of splinters and murky furniture. He couldn't say much else for himself either. The only thing in pristine condition is his rifle, his outfit torn and tattered, bloodstained and dirty. With there still being no sign of any survivors and only the song of the dead - silence - keeping him company, there was of course no real surprise in the fact that Keith's mind was slowly going down the drain as well.

Even worse was that his supplies were running dangerously low, which meant that he'd soon need to leave the 'sanctuary' of his town and head out to explore, something that he had been trying to postpone for as long as possible. But there was no longer any sense in waiting.

Gathering Courage

Keith drew in a deep breath with his hands covering his face, standing up in what felt to him like an eternity. Exhausted and tired of this endless running, this neverending fight for survival, he was starting to long for an end. Not the end that would surely come for him if he sat idle and did nothing, however, but rather the happy ending. Unfortunately for Keith, he had seen enough to know there were very few happy endings in life.

Grasping his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder along with his backpack, filled with whatever scarce amount of supplies that he still has left, he pushes aside the bookshelf that he uses to block entrance to the room in which he sleeps, casting a brief glance at a carving in the wall - he had tried to count the days, but gave up after a while - just before he begins to walk down the staircase that'd lead him out of the worn down motel where he'd been seeking shelter. The sky gave him the usual greeting, dark and gloomy. What had once started off as an eerie white cloud creeping in over the horizon had now enveloped the town in its entirety. Sometimes, he swore he could see shadows and figures walking around in the thick fog.

Rolling his shoulders, Keith steadied his rifle against his shoulder and began to walk forth, eyes weary but remaining alert and keen, steadily tracking his surroundings for the slightest of movements with his ears perked up on top of his head, having to mostly rely on them since the dense mist hinders his eyesight. The only reason Keith even knows where he is going at all is because he recognises the buildings that he passes by, even in their wrecked, miserable state.

Just as he reached the outskirts of the town, where he could no longer make use of the buildings to help navigate due to leaving them behind him, he froze up suddenly. He had to take one last look at what he was leaving behind - or at least, that's what he wanted to do - all he could see was the mist. Perhaps that was good, all things considered... not that his last memories of the town weren't already contaminated, but he supposed that he might as well not make it worse by seeing it all clearly.

The Journey Begins

Turning tail, the husky set off in a light jog and strangely enough, the further from the town he came, the better he could see, as though the town had been clouding his senses all along, making him wonder for a moment why he hadn't left earlier... it wasn't like he had anything to stay for. It had been well over an hour, no doubt, and he couldn't have been happier with his decision. Though, the husky had in no way prepared himself - nor could he had, really - for what came after a few more steps. The sudden glare of something so bright he had no choice but to shut his eyes tight and even cover up his face with his right arm. The pain this light brought with it was enough to make him grit his teeth. He felt as though something was trying to bore holes into his arm and get to his eyes, and it wasn't until a whole minute later that he was actually able to squint open his eyes to see what the source of the powerful light was. The sun.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen it and now he was so bedazzled by it that he couldn't bring himself to make another move. It had to be some sort of sign, he thought. A sign of that no matter how bad things get, there's always light at the end of the tunnel - or the mist, in this case. Keith smiled, another thing he hadn't done for a long, long time and began to walk in a more relaxed manner now, even dropping his rifle to let it hang freely from its strap.

Naturally, as with all things good, they have to come to an end, and Keith froze in his tracks again, snapping from his thoughts in the blink of an eye at the sound of footsteps behind him. He spun around in an instant, rifle raised and ready to be fired, but there wasn't anything there to shoot at. Only the dense mist that stood like a massive wall. Finally out of that misery!

"What now..." he mutters quietly to himself, eyes peeled ahead while he begins to walk backwards at a slow but sure pace. A little realisation made his ears perk up on top of his head, twitching. "Those shadows... from earlier.Th-- no. No. I gotta get away from this place," he tells himself quickly, backing off and getting back on track.

A Small Surprise

At times like these, Keith truly wished for someone that could call out mistakes to him, for the moment he turned, he heard the frenzied, hungry groaning. The same kind that he'd become rather familiar with as of late. Without as much as a second thought, Keith once more spun around, pulling the trigger and emptying his rifle in short bursts, barrel aimed at the heads of the charging horde of undead that had came out of nowhere akin to an army of ghosts. How could he not have heard them earlier? "Shit! Fuck! Crap!" he cursed repeatedly, firing burst after burst.

His vocabulary when 'slightly panicked' wasn't the most educational, but at least nobody was around to tell him off for swearing... not that he'd have listened much anyway, in the process of running backwards and shooting his weapon.

"Eat this!" he calls out, digging a hand into one of his pouches to dig out a grenade - his last one too, it seemed - pulling the pin with his teeth while he continues to fire with the other hand. He held the grenade until he heard the disappointing click-click-click of his rifle, lobbing the explosive at the mass of walking dead and turning around to sprint.

Counting to three in his head, he wondered why the damn thing hadn't blown up already, and had half a mind to check on the situation with a glance over his shoulder, but the sudden blast from behind him had his change his mind, and instead pick up the pace. Pieces of rotten, decomposed and bloody flesh flies past his head along with shrapnel and other pleasantries.

"How the shit am I still alive?!" he asks himself out loud, covering the back of his head and neck with his arms. "Should be a shelter up here... better still be there..." he grunts under his breath, not looking back. Even though the place was a damned wasteland, this little calamity hadn't changed the fact that the place was still pretty much a desert, and he'd taken to learning his way around long ago when he was little, just exploring with his friends.

Indeed, as he had suspected, he soon came up on a large, towering hill. The sand is much looser here than where he previously was, making it quite the struggle for him to ascend, not to mention all the luggage he's dragging around. He wasn't sure if he'd even be able to get the door open to the shelter once he got there, but it was either that or getting lost out in the desert with... them. He didn't know which was worse, really, getting stuck in that bunker for the rest of his life or being chased until the undead felt like giving up out in the scorching heat. At least the sand wouldn't make it easy for them to follow him.

It took him a few minutes, but he'd finally made it... and the old building stood rigid, to the looks of things. A large, square building looking much like a bunker from some past war. Its original purpose was a watchpost, given its location up on top of the hill. Daring to cast a glance behind himself, Keith was pleased to find that his plan had worked. The sand was making it impossible for them to get up the hill, stumbling and falling on top of each other like struggling, braindead zom-... oh, that's right.

A Welcome Respite

"Please be open, please be open, please be open..." Keith repeats to himself, approaching the door, shifting his empty rifle over onto his back as he reaches for the door, taking a solid hold and then pulling hard. To his surprise, the door swung open almost with no effort at all - enough to send Keith stumbling back and onto his rump. "Guess that went better than expected," he says, chuckling quietly and brushing himself off, a sheepish grin on his face. Pushing the door to the bunker open properly, he tilts his head as he steps inside, and his sheepish grin turns into one of glee and delight. Before him on a wide table, positioned along the bunker's left wall to not obstruct entry or exit from it, waits a sniper rifle for someone to come and pick it up. Fortunately for Keith, there wasn't really much of a contest...

"Hoo... it even comes with ammunition!" he expresses cheerily, picking up the two relatively small boxes of ammo that he figured belongs to the rifle. He couldn't read the text on the case due to them being worn out. "This'll last a while. If I wasn't the only survivor of this freak apocalypse, I'd consider calling myself lucky..." he says, snorting and reaching for the sniper rifle to pick it up. Keith is most familiar with this particular beauty - the MSR - it having been his preferred weapon of choice in his army days. Those days weren't too far behind him either, but he wasn't even sure there was an army left to speak of after recent events...

Figuring that he might as well test out his new toy, the husky exits the bunker with an eager swish of his tail, cocking the rifle and making a few adjustments to the scope before aiming it down at the undead that were piling up by the base of the hill. Some seemed to have given up, walking aimlessly into other directions. Keith chooses one of the closer targets, lining up his sights with one of the creatures just as he begins to get back up from another failed attempt at ascending the sandy hill. He folds his ears down and narrows his eyes a bit, then squeezes the trigger with an experienced finger, sending the bullet whistling through the air with a shot that pierces not only the skull of the one he had aimed at, but also the one standing behind, having been just the right height.

The two undead slump to the ground, and Keith turns back into the bunker and drags the door with him, sealing the bunker. A pleased smirk spreads across his muzzle. "Right..." he begins, placing the sniper rifle along with his own rifle back onto the table, stretching out his arms and slumping down into the only chair in there, stood right next to the table. He drops his backpack, digging out of it a few wrapped up parcels of meat that he'd prepared only a day ago.

He also goes about preparing the ground for sleeping, placing down a multitude of blankets for a makeshift matress. The sun was already on its way to sink down into the horizon, Keith figuring he might as well make use of his temporary safe zone to rest up a little more as the sudden attack had him rather exhausted. Once done eating, he wraps the remainder of the meat back up into its package and stuffs it into his backpack, reaching instead for a drink of water, placing the bottle onto the table rather than putting it back in. He grabs the last pair of blankets and wraps himself up in them as he lays down, knowing the nights out in the desert get pretty cold... and pretty fast. Keith was probably more tired than he thought, as the moment he laid down, he could feel his eyelids begin to droop, and his mind slowly drift off into tranquility.