The Solanum Virus 2 » Places

         Down the street from the group Diana and the others are occupying was a bar with the windows and doors boarded up. Inside where over-turned chairs and tables. Broken glass, bloodstains, and a ceiling fan hanging of it's hinges. The scene looked like the victim of a hurricane but in all of it's stillness was a man sitting at the bar drinking from a bottle whiskey. He is skin is a pasty white and his hair made up in shaggy dreadlocks as his reddish hair hanged above his shoulders. He slumped with his elbows on the bar as he had a bored look upon his face. The only thing given him light was dimly lit oil lantern as he took modest swigs from the bottle. Only so slight lifting his head up when drinking only to proceed to place the bottle upon a dirty coaster. Troy sighed as he took his father's trench knife. He used this in the IRA in his day but once he and the rest of them moved to America he put up in his study. When he died though his mother gave it to him saying, "Yer Da wanted you to 'ave dis." she said as he handed Troy the knife. "Tank ye mom." Troy responded as he held the knife in his hands. This was the last thing Troy had to remember him by. He missed his father sometimes but he was glad he didn't have to suffer through this shit like the rest of humanity. As far as he knew his mother was still alive he would need to find her or at least know what happened to her.

As of now he was stuck in this town with no mode of transportation since he had to abandon his car when the engine died. All he had were the clothes on his back, an musty old tan backpack, a pump-action shotgun, and his father's knife. Unfortunately he was running out of shells and soon the gun will be just about useless in a fight. So Troy sat there still drinking form the bottle as his gaze tilted from side to side, up and down. He would have to leave here soon, there isn't much in this place. Most of the alcohol was looted or drained. He was lucky to find a half empty bottle of whiskey. There were no kegs of beer down stairs since most of the barrels were busted. As for food there wasn't much of that either some moldy bread and cheese but that is about it. This bar wasn't the greatest place to be holed up in but at least there were no Zombies, Troy sought to that when he killed the ones lurking upstairs. There weren't that many only two or three. He killed them using the gun he was lucky the noise didn't attract more of them but he did firmly secure the area. All though the windows were boarded up the door was left naked. So he barricaded it with some tables and chairs and a couple of empty barrels. The back door entrance was more secure at the time since the lock wasn't actually broken unlike the front door. So he kept the door locked and carried the keys to it in his pocket. So he had an exit when he was good and ready to leave.

Troy went for another drink when he noticed the bottle was nearly dry. He shouldn't wander too far tonight considering he is feeling tipsy. There were some beds upstairs were the owner lived and not all of them were down right ruined. Some of them were overturned and ripped apart, others covered in blood but one or two of them were in fair condition. It was there he had been resting the past couple of days. Yet this would be his last night and then he would be moving on. Although the bread is stale and the cheese moldy, it was all he had for food and it would have to do for tonight's meal. Troy grimaced when he thought he had to eat the rotten food but it is a matter of survival. Troy knew this and therefor he couldn't complain as he knew it would at least keeping going for another day.