Snippet #2244830

Emerson covered her mouth with her muddy palms, trying to lower her breathing volume. It's been several months since the deadly infection came from being a dream, to a living nightmare in weeks. Her breathing died down to a small huff. Emerson hid well behind a few abandon food crates. Her face was sweating, heart pounding, vision blurry. She couldn't tell if she was bitten or just tired from the sleep she's been losing over the past few months. A few blocks down from the ally she was hiding in, a "beast" had wandered to close to her shelter and she begun to silently panick, her gun would attract more so all she could do was flare her knife around and throw punches at the monster before she could get away. Emerson has gotten used to things like that, but one of those..things..have never gotten THAT close to her.

Emerson searched her body for any sight of blood or bite marks,chunks of flesh missing. Nothing. She was safe. She sighed in releif and wiped the mud and dried blood off her hands on the gravel below her.

"Discusting. Those beasts have blood like freeze dried jelly that's been in Africa for two years."She said, almost hurling at the thought.

Emerson stood up and brushed the dirt off her torn jeans. She hasn't changed her outfit since choas reached this town. She was visiting here with her father for a little time together after he was released from rehab, but things quickly hit the curb when people first learned of the sickness, squirming around like spiders in a bathtub. Running for extra gas,clothes,money and other useless things. Luckely, Emerson gathered more then enough of what she needed to survive. Matches,a tarp,weapons and a few scraps of food would keep her steady until she found a group to partisapate in. But unfortunally, Emerson beleives that most of the survivors have left this town behind, in hopes to find better ones with cabel,water and open stores possibly. She didn't beleive in any of that. Emerson quitly crouched around the corner of the ally on the way back to her camping spot near a torn up car dealership. Only maybe, three cars remained, all drained of gas and lacking of wheels, and even the chairs where missing. The beast Emerson fought off earlier was still lugging about, limping and flopping it's only arm around like a ragdoll. It's was far enough from her tarp for her to crawl inside it. Her backpack lied in the corner, away from the small opening where Emerson crawled in and out of every hour or so. The sleepy, weak girl colapsed onto the bag with her pistol in her hand and her knife beside her before her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off into sleep, dreaming that she will survive another night and that maybe, in the next day, she'll find another survivor kind enough to help her and fight alongside her during these tough times.